I clutch my brother to my shaking chest as the beam of light sweeps just past us. So close, I think, so close. Note to self: Be more careful. It's not just you that will have to deal with the repercussions. Kneeling down, I look directly at my brother, John.

'Are you okay? Did you get hurt?' He doesn't answer.

'We're almost there. We're almost safe.' He doesn't look back at me. He looks in my direction, sure, but he doesn't look at me; he looks straight through me without seeing me. He hasn't looked at me for a long time.

I take his hand as I straighten back upright, listening for noises. If only he weren't with me, I could have gotten to the storage unit and back again with no hassle. If only, if only, if only. Wishes won't help me now, they won't help us survive. You can't live on wishes but oh, if you could; I'd wish myself right out of this dump, out of District Five and to a place where I don't have to steal every day of my life.

We stand in the shadows for a few more moments waiting. Then finally, we get our cue; A door opens across the path and just above where we are standing and a Peacekeeper, dressed in his regular uniform, clumsily stumbles out. I recognise him from previous late night raids. Mid forties, with salt and pepper hair and a limp to his stride, he has never been one for the chase. Despite his big size, he's severely out of shape; those of us at school who dare to speculate about it assume that he's there to invoke fear in the weakest and most vulnerable of us. Beware of the bear. The blank look on his face suggests that you could walk straight past him with an armload of provisions and he wouldn't notice. He reminds me of John.

I know that as soon as he rounds the corner, we have roughly ten seconds to dart across the pathway and into the gap between the butchers and the badly disguised hideout(Which pretends to be a pawnbrokers) that the Peacekeeper just exited before the flashlights make their next sweep. Gathering up all of my strength and tightening my grip on John's hand, I look again into his eyes and search for any sign of fear. There's nothing.

"Are you ready?" I ask him. I take his silence as a yes and pull us as fast as I can into the open air, exposing us to anyone who may be watching. We're like animals as we surge forward, pushing as fast and quietly as we can. As sly as a pair of foxes slinking away with their prize. We're so close to making it that I can almost smell the bittersweet scent of home, hear the shouts of my father and the screech of the whistles from the yard where my brother is playing...

But then I realise that the whistles aren't inside my head. The piercing noise is surrounding me from the darkness of the night. I whip my head to the origin of the sound, and find the peacekeeper I foolishly waved off as unobservant with his fat lips wrapped relentlessly around the whistle calling for my capture. I turn my face skyward and discover that the whole of my body is bathed in the harsh white light we were trying desperately to avoid. It is then that I feel the emptiness of my hand, and look down to find it empty. Sick with fear, I cast my eyes desperately to our goal-the shadows of the buildings. I search the gap for John, the dread becoming too much to handle, when I notice the furtive glint of a familiar pair of amber eyes. As quickly as they appear, they're gone. I hear footsteps escaping down the alleyway.

How poetic; that's the first time he's looked at me in years, and it might be the last time I'll ever see him.

I vaguely remember handcuffs being snapped over my wrists, and being shoved carelessly down the streets. Voices shout over my head but I can't focus on what they're saying. Will John get caught? Will he be safe? Will he be chosen at the Reaping tomorrow? But I cannot dwell on these questions because I'm being taken through a door, and in my haze I almost don't notice the building I'm being taken into. The Justice building.