"Oh, honey, you look SO handsome! The spitting image of your father," crooned Mother. Without opening my mouth, I sighed quietly, giving a nod to my head. How did I look like Papa? I suppose there are some mutual facial features, but with my dirty blonde hair and green-blue eyes so similar to Mother's, there's no immediate resemblance. No, it's my sister Holly that inherited the reddish-brown locks and hazel eyes of Papa. Normally, she wasn't much of a looker; today, however, was an exception. Her hair was combed, washed three times, and done up in a high ponytail with a red ribbon.

Of course, I had cleaned up for The Reaping as well. My long, silky bangs had been slicked back to reveal my forehead. Around my neck was a faded black tie, worn from hanging in a closet all year except for this one annual event. I was also wearing a freshly ironed white button down shirt with black dress pants, although on my feet were the same patched boots I wore every day. I gulped quietly, turning away from my reflection in the mirror to gaze out the cracked bedroom window. Somber people were flooding into the streets… It was time to go.

We left our home in a single file line: me at the front, Holly close behind, then Papa holding one 2 year old, proceeded by Mother holding another. I loved my twin siblings, yet I hated them at the same time. They were not planned: they seemed to just appear one day. As a 14 year old with only a singular 12 year old sister, I had it in my mind that my family was done grow. Yet there I was, with a mom telling me she'd be having another baby. How incredibly better off we would have been without the twins… Making no more than anybody else in our coal mining District, my parents could barely afford to take care of themselves.

Just like everyone else, my family came to a halt in the center of town. A too-wide-to-be-legitimate smile was plastered on Mother's face as she gave me a little shove toward the boys aged 12 to 18. I reached to give Holly's bony hand a reassuring squeeze before heading off, only to have her yank herself away and sweep off to the other girls. I made a sound that was half a groan, half a sigh, and melted in with the possible male Tributes.

Effie Trinket tapped a microphone up on stage, adjusting her hideous lime green wig with her free hand. She began her speech… but I didn't hear a word she spoke. Here I was, my name being submitted for the fifth year in a row, yet I was still shaking in my boots. Surely I wasn't going to be chosen… I couldn't be, with people like Gale Hawthorne among us. I mean, at the rate he's going, the poor chap will most likely have his name in the drawing 50 times before he turns 18- that is, if he lives until then.

"As always, ladies first!" chimed Effie Trinket. My eyes flickered back up to the stage. How long had it been since I last averted my attention? Surely it had been a few minutes, if they'd already shown that god awful video they did every year…. She stuck her manicured hand into the glass bowl teeming with slips of paper, her fingers searching around for a moment. Seemingly satisfied, she pulled out a piece. She cleared her throat unnecessarily. "This year's female Tribute representing District 12 shall be…" There was an overly dramatic pause during which you probably could hear a pin drop. "…Holly Midman!"

My heart gave an unnatural shudder. "What?" I cried out. Everybody's eyes flicked to me, but only for a moment: my sister was the main focus now. Gradually, as if everything was in slow motion, the other girls made a path for Holly to walk over. Their faces showed looks of sympathy, but their eyes danced with relief.

"Come now, dear, don't be shy!" Effie purred. Looking like she'd been slapped across the face, Holly trudged step-by-step up to the stage. Effie patted her on the shoulder, a revoltingly bright smile on her painted lips. "Now whoever shall the boys be?"

This time, I truly held my breath, which wasn't all that hard to do, since my body seemed to have stopped working. Once again, Effie took more time than needed digging in the bowl until she grasped her choice. A terrifying mixture of shock and pleasure seeped into her face. "My, look what we have here! This is one of the first times in Hunger Games history, if I'm not mistaken, that the two Tributes selected have been siblings!" Siblings? Oh dear God, no… It couldn't be… But it was. Effie sang my name out loud and clear: "Gavin Midman!"

Once more, a deadly silence surrounded the area. I stood statue still, as if waiting for someone to volunteer to replace me. That was impossible, though: I was close to nobody but my parents, siblings, and teachers. Nobody would care enough to replace me… Nobody would die for me… With a shuddering breath, I made my way up to the stage, my legs feeling like they were made out of lead.

"Well, there you have it! The fine pair of sibling Tributes standing here for the 72nd annual Hunger Games! Shake hands, darlings," Effie chimed. How could any one human being be so excited to know that a brother and sister would have to kill each other? I put my hand out dazedly, Holly glaring daggers as if this whole thing was my fault. She took my hand stiffly, her eyes not losing contact with my own. Effie giggled. "Lovely! Happy Hunger Games, dears, and may the odds me ever in your favor!"

Holly has this way of always convincing people to side with her simply by arching an eyebrow or crossing her arms. This being said, as seconds ticked by without either of us making a movement, I whispered "I'm sorry" as if I truly believed this was all my fault. I reached for my sister's hand as we were ushered offstage- a gesture to show she wasn't alone in this; she clenched her fist and stared straight ahead as if she was the only person in the world.

Perhaps killing her wouldn't be so hard after all…

Oh dear God, what did I just say? If my feelings were like this before I'd even set foot out of my district, what type of person would I be once I was in the arena? Once I was in the arena… The reality of that statement stung me painfully and sent numbing chills throughout my body. Surely, I would no longer be Gavin Midman come a few days' time. Images of myself in the place of Tributes from previous Hunger Games, brutally strangling a frail boy, or stabbing a spear through someone's stomach, or delivering the death blow to my own sister played through my mind.

Surely, I would no longer be human.