A short little oneshot that i came up with yesterday about the first ever Hunger Games.

Disclaimer: I do not own the Hunger Games.

I stared into the eyes of my soon-to-be killer. As he raised his knife I knew that I would die. Before I even had a chance to live.

He smiled.

~o~o~

It seemed a life time ago that I had first heard the news. As "punishment" for our rebellion, every district in Panem had to send one boy and one girl between the ages of twelve and eighteen to fight to the death on national TV. They were calling it the Hunger Games.

"They" of course, being President Snow. The old mans hatred of the Districts was fueled by the fact that the rebels had killed his first born son. His next son would take over when he was gone and the Districts whispered that he was even more bloodthirsty and ruthless than his father. Even his breath smelled of blood.

Although I didn't cared if I was picked or not; the Capitol had already destroyed some part of me. My best friend and almost boyfriend, Thomas, fought in the last major battle of the rebellion. Since we were both from the poorest past of the poorest District, otherwise known as the Seam, we've had little to none training in combat. But he said it was his duty to try and stop the Capitol. The capitol, which stands back and doesn't give a damn that the lower Districts are slowly starving. Meanwhile the Capitol slowly gets richer.

Well, they fought and they lost. And Thomas was executed publically in the main square of our District. I can still remember every little detail because it's burned into the tissues of my brain.

"And now, Thomas Everson, charged with rebellion and treason against the Capitol." The Peacekeeper smiled viciously as they lined him up on the ground to be shot. They didn't even give him a blindfold.

I had run in front of him, despite my mothers protest. I tried to cover him with my body, to protect him. Right before the Peacekeeper dragged me off, he looked me in the eye and said, "I love you, Kathleen Mason."

Then they shot him. And I didn't have a chance to tell him that I loved him too.

Anyway, like I said, I didn't care if they chose me or not. They probably would; I had strong feelings that the Capitol would rig the "Reaping", as they were calling it.

But it was still a shock when I was picked.

Me and all the other girls that were sixteen were standing in a roped off section before a platform. I barley heard the Capitol representative talk about "punishment" and "the winner will receive huge rewards" and "look at it as entertainment, after all, your being forced to watch." I didn't hear because I was staring at the spot where half of me had been shot to death.

So, when she reached in for the slip of paper and called out "Kathleen Mason", it took me a minute to realize that she meant me. I climbed onto the stage, each footstep sounding like a nail in my coffin.

I looked out to where my mother was crying tremendously and hoped that wherever Thomas was, he would know that I was coming, and probably sooner than later.

For the next few weeks, they interviewed us at the Capitol. The other twenty three tributes and I were confused; we hadn't done anything, why were we being punished, why were we being forced to fight against each other? We didn't even want to.

My "stylist" as they were calling her was annoying, to say the least. She kept going on about how much of an honor it is to be chosen. She made me sick with hatred. Hatred for her, the Capitol, and President Snow. Him most of all. Plus, she had a horrible fashion sense.

Then, it was the day. The day that they would rise all of the tributes into an arena and force us to fight each other. Only one of the tributes seemed to be happy about it. A big burly boy from District one. He actually wanted to win.

He disgusts me.

When we were raised into the arena, I had one minute to take it in. There were hills to the right. One of them looked like a volcano since it was sprouting lava. Also, there was no water source in sight.

"Ladies and Gentlemen, let the first ever Hunger Games begin!" The announcer's voice rang out through the arena. I think his name is Claudius Templesmith of something.

There's a big pile of supplies directly at the center of the circle of tributes. But no one is paying it any attention. We all just want to run into the trees and try not to die. Only the big guy from District one is poised to run toward it.

A gong sounds and I start running as fast as my legs can carry me, my hair billowing out behind me. All I can think is "I don't want to die, not yet." But I will, and soon. I can feel it.

Nothing happens for a few hours, I hear no cannon, which is supposed to be the signal for a death. I don't think anyone wants to kill someone. We're all just kids, after all.

Then, I see the volcano explode across the arena. Someone stupidly screams. I guess the controllers of the game want to drive us together, force us to kill each other. Pretty soon we'll get the picture: kill or be killed.

I start walking again; I have a dagger that I picked up a while ago. It probably won't do me any good at all.

I hear a sound to my right. I try to turn but I'm not fast enough. Someone pushes me to the ground. I roll over, it's the boy from District one. He has a long sharp looking knife in his hand.

I try to get up but he sits on top of me. "Goodnight, bitch" he growls. I gasp and try to reason with him, "Are you really going to kill me?"

I stare into my soon-to-be killers face. In response, he raises his knife and I knew I would die. Before I even had a chance to live.

He smiles.

My mind sums up the image of Thomas, how he would react if he knew that I was just going to give up. I don't want to die, but I will die happily if I knew that I stopped this freak from winning. I reach for my dagger.

He leans closer and is about to stab the knife into my chest. I have a better aim, though. I drive my dagger as hard as I can into his heart. His eyes widen and lucky me, he has time to drive his knife into my side. I think it punctures a lung and maybe my heart.

I cry in pain as he drives it deeper. Then he falls off of me. We're both going to die here. My vision starts to blacken as I loose even more blood. I hear a canon fire, the other boy is dead. But that is all unimportant. I can see Thomas, holding his arms open, welcoming me. In the back of my mind I hear another canon. Suddenly, I feel lighter. I step out of my body and into Thomas's arms, never to be separated again.

The first thing I say in my new life is, "I love you Thomas Everson."