A/N: This is a retelling of the first book "The Hunger Games", from Prim's perspective. Although I'm keeping it pretty much the same as the book, I have to add some things in because... That's what fan fictions do! I know some things are described differently in this fan-fiction that in the actual book, but that's because Prim always had a brighter and more optimistic look on life than Katniss, even in the worst of times. No, she's not the bubbly Effie Trinket, but she manages to find light in any dark situation. Please leave constructive criticism, as it would really help me for the next chapters! Happy Hunger Games!

The bright sunlight of morning breaks through the window, and blinds me. I jolt to cover my face, and sink back into the blankets. It's no use, the sun is too warm to go back to sleep, and I probably wouldn't have been able to sink back into my dreams anyway. It is reaping day after all.

I manage to slip out of the bed without waking my mother. The depression seems to have physically sunk down into her face. Not even a Capitol makeover could make her look like herself again. Still, she's beautiful. I kiss her forehead and brush her hair back with my fingers before going outside.

Buttercup follows at my heels. I know he's just a cat, but it seems like even he can sense what today holds. Brushing his bright yellow coat against my ankles, I reach down and scoop him into my arms.

"Your infections starting to go away," I say smiling. Half of one of his ears was missing when I found him years ago, but it had just recently been infected after he cut it on something. The seam, where we live, is not exactly sanitary, so this was bound to happen sooner or later.

From the distance of my front porch, I see my sister Katniss slipping away into the woods. I wanted to catch her before she left this morning, but somehow I knew she'd already be gone. I doubt she slept at all last night. Her name's going to be in the reaping ball at least twenty times. The odds are not in our favor.

It's obvious that Katniss takes after our father. Whenever she has something on her mind, she slips out into the woods. It's her sanctuary, her stronghold. It's also completely illegal territory, but she keeps on good terms with the law enforcement in District 12. By trading them what she kills, they keep their mouth shut.

Her friend Gale Hawthorne usually joins her, but I believe he uses a separate entrance to the woods, so I wouldn't see him enter the woods. He's got a lot on his plate too today, with forty-two slips of paper in the reaping ball with his name signed on it. Plus, he's got four other people to support. At least Katniss only has two.

With that thought brings chills to my spine. This is the first year that Primrose Everdeen will be written on one of those slips. I try not to think about it too much, because the more I do, the darker it gets.

The reaping isn't for another five hours, so I do have time to kill. I start out to milk my goat, Lady. She was a birthday present from Katniss one year. I used the milk from yesterday to make goat cheese as a reaping gift for her. I didn't check to see if it was gone, but I'm sure she took it this morning. It's what I always give her on reaping day.

Making dairy products from Lady and apothecary are my specialties. While Katniss was learning how to hunt from my father, I would pick up the things my mother did in her apothecary shop. She was talented back in her prime, but ever since my father died, she's been less like a mother, and more like a lifeless lump of bones and skin. Katniss is essentially my mother, and Gale the same with his family.

Both of our fathers died together in a mine explosion five years ago. I was seven, Katniss was twelve, and Gale was fourteen. This was when my mother checked out of reality. I believe Gale's mother took to the news easier than ours did, but Gale was still needed to support his three siblings and mother.

Katniss hunts for food in the woods, and I get what I can from Lady. Katniss also signs up for tesserae, a small supply of grains and oil for the family, but it just means her name goes into the reaping ball more each time she gets it. I tried to sign up for it this year, but she wouldn't let me. What she catches, we eat, or she trades it for other things we need at the Hob. I've never been there with her, and frankly I don't believe I wish to go. District 12 itself terrifies me at times, even at my own home. Venturing out to its darker parts is not on the top of my to-do list.

Milking Lady has become a quick and simple process, because I've had so much practice. Even after following me to her for five years, Buttercup still keeps a safe distance between him and Lady whenever we go.

"Prim!" I hear someone call my name, and it takes a few seconds to register who it is.

"Rory!" It's Gale's younger brother, Rory. He's only a year ahead of me in school, but we usually eat lunch together. He runs over to me and hands me a small sack filled with berries.

"Rory, oh my! There's so many of them. How did you even manage to fi—"

"Happy Hunger Games." He cuts me off, kisses me on the cheek, and runs back towards his home. I try and subdue the blushing until after he's turned around and a safe distance away, but I fear it was too late. I taste one of the berries, and share some with Buttercup and Lady. I'm not sure what kind it was, but it was delicious nonetheless. I smiled to myself, and began to walk back home.

By the time I got there, my mother is awake and preparing my attire.

"This was Katniss's first reaping dress," she says as she touches up a seam that was coming loose. "There, it's good as new. Now quick, take a bath." She has warm water waiting for me in the washroom. I put the goat milk on the table, but I slip the bag on berries under the bed. I'll save these for me and Katniss to have later tonight. When they're properly hidden, I slip to the bath.

Once I'm clean and back into the room, she slips the dress on me. It's too big for me, but she pins it until it stays. I'm trying to tuck it in the back when Katniss walks in the door with a bag of today's game and trades. She looks simply beautiful once she's bathed and slips into one of my mother's old blue apothecary dresses. I complimented her, and she hugged me.

"Prim, this is the first year that you're in the reaping ball, and your name is only in there once. You don't have anything to worry about." I smile at her to show I understand, but in the back of my mind, I still fear. Not necessarily for my fate, but for hers, Gale's, and Rory's.

She notices the puff of dress sticking out of the back of my dress, and she said I looked like a duckling. I quacked at her, and then we began to eat. She put fish and greens in a stew for dinner, and strawberries and fresh bakery bread she got today on the counter to go with it. For lunch, we drink goat milk, and eat the tessera grain bread. It's not very tasty, but it's not like any of us have the appetite to eat anyway. One o'clock seems to get here way too fast, and we make our way off to the square, where the reaping is held.

The square is normally happy, but even with the festive hunger games decorations, an invisible dark cloud hangs over the entire district. Several Peacekeepers guide me and Katniss away to the area where they keep the female reaping candidates.

"I love you Katniss." She replies the same before they push her towards the front of the crowd, with the eldest girls. I stand at the back alone. I see Rory on the other side of the square, standing with the males. His names in there seven times, because he took out tessera without Gale's knowledge earlier in the year. He paid for that decision later, I'm sure. Somewhere in the back of my mind, I pray that isn't chosen.

My mother stands with Ms. Hawthorne, and her other two children, Vick and Posy, against one of the shop walls. They seem to be exchanging light conversation, but nothing too deep. Their children could be fighting each other to the death in a matter of days. This is not the time to be making friends.

A shady group of men towards the back of the square are exchanging money, and it's obvious they're placing bets. The thought of people finding some slight sense of joy out of the hunger games, especially here in District 12, sickened me to my stomach.

Effie Trinket, the district twelve escort, stands on stage, looking bubbly as always in a spring green suit. The District Twelve Mayor, Mayor Undersee sits beside her. They both look around for Haymitch Abernathy, who should be filling the empty chair. He's the only living winner of the Hunger Games from District 12. He's usually drunk when he shows up to anything nowadays anyway.

Once they're tired of waiting, Mayor Undersee takes the stage, and reads the history of Panem, and how the Hunger Games came to be.

Every year, each of the twelve districts of Panem selects one teenage boy and girl to partake in the Hunger Games. The twenty-four of them are thrown into an arena, and they have to fight to the death. The last one standing comes back home, and lives a life of luxury. However, the richer districts have the better chances of winning, as they can train for this event their entire lives. We in the poorer districts have to struggle to survive as it is, let alone in the Hunger Games.

Around seventy-five years ago, the districts began to rebel against the Capitol, and District 13 was destroyed entirely in the fight. The Hunger Games is the Capitol's way of showing the nation that even the youngest of children were at the mercy of the Capitol.

I try my best to escape reality for this time, because the last thing I want to hear about right now is rebellion. Instead, I focus on single Mockingjay bird that's flying around the square. I glance up quickly, and all I see is Haymitch running onto the state, in an extremely drunken state.

I then began to wish how I was a simple Mockingjay. They have no real cares in the world. They're not pitted to the death every year because of the actions of their ancestors. They don't have to starve to death in exchange for a slightly less chance of being mauled to death by other birds their age. They are the living definition of freedom. I almost let out a sigh of happiness, until something grave registers with my ears.

Effie Trinket has just called my name.