I walked home, the gravel crunching under my feet. Slowly, my house came into view. It looked really small from the outside; most wouldn't realize how big it was until they were standing at the front door. It really was a pretty house. Honeysuckle climbed the stone walls to the roof, roses bloomed on lattices in the garden, which was dotted with brightly hued tulips and peonies. My mother loved to garden; it was the one thing she could do for hours. She was good at it too. She has a green thumb.

I stepped in through the front door, planning to go upstairs to my bedroom. I was kicking off my old, dirt covered tennis shoes when I heard them. My mom, talking to someone I had never heard before.

"She's... difficult." My mother said, her voice muffled. She hesitated for a moment, as if scared she had said the wrong thing, before continuing. "I mean, I love her, but she is quite stubborn. I've been training her for months, but she absolutely refuses volunteer. I know she can win the Games. She just needs to have confidence in herself. I need your help. Will you do it?"

I stood pressed against the wall separating the dining room from the entryway of our house, eavesdropping. It was obvious my mom was talking about me participating in the Hunger Games, but who could she be talking to? And what does she need help with? My mom was the kind of person who wasn't scared to do anything; she loved taking risks. I think they make her feel important.

Then, an annoyingly high-pitched voice with a ridiculous Capitol accent replied. "Of course. You have been most generous; don't worry. Your daughter will have a place in this year's Hunger Games."

I quickly sucked in a breath, filling my lungs past their normal capacity. Ever so slowly, I released it through my nose. I was past seeing reason; my mother had just sent me off to my death.

How dare she. My mother, who has cared and nurtured me, thinks of me as nothing more than a ticket to fame and glory through the Hunger Games. She doesn't even realize the fact that I don't want to be in the Hunger Games, let alone win. I knew I would die in those Games, that those horrid people would have no sympathy on me and kill me at their first chance. The other tributes would have to be insane to even consider forming an alliance with me; I have nothing to offer. Nothing to guarantee me success. Yet here she was, sending me off to die. Like I was nothing.

The sound of the chairs scraping back on the luxurious wooden floor is what brought me back to my senses.

"Thank you so much for your help."

"Any time, darling, any time. I can't wait to see how this turns out; it should make for quite an interesting Hunger Games after all."

Footsteps began to ring out through the open house; I quickly scrambled up the stairs to my bedroom. Behind me, I heard a door closing. The District 1 escort had just left our house, after promising my mother the glory of having her only child be in the 125th Annual Hunger Games.