(Read dis) My first fanfiction! :o Okay so I'll take a moment to explain to you: It's the 150th annual hunger games(we can just pretend that the second rebellion never happened. Cliché, I know, deal with it. X3 any who, for the quarter quell, to show that no one is too crazy to serve the capitol, both tributes from districts 6-12 will be reaped from the local asylum. But no one can volunteer in any of the districts, also. Tehehe…. Oh, and just to let you know, my main OC's name is Megan Kirus.

I looked gloomily ahead as I walked with my family to the reaping. I live in District four, so usually I'd be completely safe because I would instantly be volunteered for after my name was called. Unfortunately, no volunteers were aloud. If I was called….I didn't even want to think about it.

I clutched my little brother's hand as we arrived at town square. He was only one year younger than me. I was 15, and scared as hell. Although, so were many other girls. My family was wealthy enough, we didn't need to put our names in extra times for food.

After getting my blood drawn, I took my place with the other fifteen year-old girls. Some of the careers looked disappointed. It must be so depressing when you can't volunteer to go kill children.

I watched as the District four escort, Comos Tresup, walked, or rather waddled, seing as she was wearing an extremely oversized and poofy dress, onto the stage. She spoke with a cheery voice into the microphone, "Welcome, District four, to the 150th Annual Hunger Games tribute reaping!" They didn't even bother playing the video of the lecture we got for rebelling all those decades ago. We all got the message; the capitol owns us. We will never be free. We are cursed to give up children to these brutal blood-thirsty rulers for eternity.

There was an awkward silence before Tresup spoke again, "Well then….ladies first!" She reached into the bowl with all the female's names. After awhile of chasing one small envelope around the bowl with her long fake finger-nails, she finally caught it with a successful, "Aha!" and pulled it out. Tresup carefully ripped it open, and glanced at the name inside.

"Megan Kirus!" She called out. I froze, not exactly registering, no, not accepting what had just been said, much less fitting it into my version of reality. "Excuse me?" I choked out. All heads turned towards me. Tresup flinched with annoyance, and began to read the name again. "Megan Ki-" "I heard you!" I practically yelled, and forcing myself to stomp up to the stage, crossing my arms and glaring at the crowd.

Tresup glared at me before reaching into the boys bowl, and pulling out a name. "Toby Kirus," She called out. I blinked. Once. Twice. Then it hit me. My little brother was going into the games with me. His survival meant my death, and the other way around. Not to mention we had to go into an arena with 12 psychopathic maniacs.

"No!" I tried to say, but it stuck like glue in my throat. I watched, trembling, as my little brother walked up into the stage. No matter how fierce I looked on the inside, on the inside, I was screaming. I was screaming for my own life, screaming for my brother's golden innocence. Screaming at my body to just run, run as fast as I could and hide.

"Well now, shake hands!" Piped the high voice of Cosmos Tresup. I turned to my brother, and he turned to me. He reached his hand out to me, and I took it. But I didn't shake it. Instead, I pulled him into a hug. I started sobbing. Not just because of the fact that I was scared for us, but because I was weak. I wasn't cut out to be in the hunger games, much less this time period. I didn't go fishing with the others. I helped my mother and father cook the fish, I didn't catch it. I had no skills with tridents. By my name being called, my fate was sealed that moment, right then and there.

One way or another, I wasn't making it out of these games alive.

I apologize for the size, it's kind of short, and the paragraphs go a bit to fast, plus I didn't think I made it nearly as descriptive as it should be…..gah, I'm criticizing myself! I want to know your opion.