We first moved to the outskirts of London when I was 10. I remember it as clear as day; we met Uncle Haymitch at London City airport, we call him 'Uncle' when really he's only a family friend...I'll come back to that.

Prim, my little sister was only 6 back then. She thought we we're going to live with the Queen and be best friends with the Princesses. It made Haymitch chuckle at least. She had the right to think every thing was like a fairytale at 6, even though it was so far from that.

Still is I guess.

I'd only be on a plane once before, back when I was 3 or something, to go to Disneyland Florida. I remember it only being a 2 hour flight from our local airport, Beckley, to Orlando. Being as I was only thinking about meeting Mickey and Minnie, I guess I didn't mind it that much. Anyway who can remember being 3 clearly? That holiday was the only one we went on as family; me, Mum and Dad. Prim wasn't even born. After that, we could never save up enough money to even rent out a caravan at the local 'West Virginia Campers'. My Dad had become pretty much desolate, as he got kicked out his business job and was forced to work down the local coal mine, under strict rules that my Mum didn't need to work as she had me, and soon-to-be Prim to look after. He even if his salary had been almost halved.

We lived in Bluefield, WV, a renowned coal mining town. Had been for years. My Father always told us that once he lost his first job, he never wanted to ended up working down the mines, like his Father- my Grandfather. But he had no choice, it was either job and money or no job and no money, meaning no food on the table. I think you can guess which he chose.

Anyway back to London. We ended up here because-

Because, we were now orphans.

It still hurts even to say that.

My Father had died in a tragic mining accident, like my Grandfather.

That's why he didn't want to end up in them.

But he did.

He had no choice.

My Mother then went into complete shutdown, he loved him too much, she couldn't, well refused look after us anymore and we had no relatives around who were willing to take us in. That's when it got even worse.

She overdosed on some over-the-counter drugs one night.

And died.

That's when social services came to put us into care.

I thought this was going to be our life from then on.

Stuck in there.

Maybe, shunted across America with different foster parents.

Maybe, being adopted-

All of this happening because of a few weeks that turned our life around-

For the worse.

But that's when we got that call.

From Haymitch. Uncle Haymitch.

He got informed our parents deaths via the services, who were trying to their hardest to find anyone who might take us in. I remember telling them about him, saying that my Mum used to be friends with his wife Maysilee, before they moved out to England. I thought of him ever wanting to bring us in (after his Maysilee's death from cancer) would be a miracle. He didn't really know us that well and was never the one for being around kids.

Let alone looking after them.

However that call happened.

He wanted to let us stay with him over in London.

I couldn't believe at first.

He actually wanted us.

Prim told she could see something now.

She said she could see hope.

After that, we stayed in the care home for about a month as one of the social workers; Effie Trinket, an all round bubbly and optimistic woman, went over to see what kind of state Haymitch was living in and whether it was worth the hassle of sending us over there. He obviously made an impression though. She came back as excited as ever, waving the signed paperwork in her delicate hands, manicured with hot pink nail varnish.

As always.

"Girlies. I'm so proud of you. You're going to love it over there. Yes, it will take a while to adjust to the British way of life, but you'll be fine. Trust me," she said, as she kissed both of our foreheads, her eyes a little glossy with tears.

Then, she handed us over to our new guardian, Uncle Haymitch. Prim hugged her hard. I don't do hugs. I just waved back at her vigorous ones. She had come with us on the plane journey, which was actually made it little less daunting. As like I said I've only been on a plane once before, and Prim never had.

We both decided we hated flying.

The turbulence for a good 3 hours, hit us hard.

Guess, we aren't going to be coming back to America anytime soon.

We were both glad of coming off that 'metal death-bird' (as Prim called it), even if that meant we were staying with a guy we knew nothing about- it was better than nothing.

I just grasped onto the small strings of hope Prim told me she could see.

And Effie's kind words.

We were going to be alright.

To be honest with you though, I lost all hope when I saw him for the first time. Head hunched low from across the gate, his back pressed against the 'Arrivals' sign, where Effie was walking us to. As soon as he could hear Effie shouting from across the terminal "Haymitch!", his head lifted slightly just making eye contact with us. He didn't even smile.

"He looks scary," Prim whispered to me, as we came closer.

I didn't reply to that. I just smiled at her sweetly then I kissed her hair.

I didn't want to make myself vulnerable by agreeing with her, I was the only real family she had left and was trying my all to stay strong for her (still am), but I couldn't deny it. He looked as if his was in his mid 40's, with long, greasy, dark hair, olive skin and deep grey eyes. Surprisingly having the similar features as me. Apart from the greasy hair, 40 year-old man part. Although many families who originated from the coal-mining industry side of Bluefield always did have the iconic, dark 'seam' (as my Mother called them) features. Like my Father's side of the family. My Mother's side (my Mother included) had pretty much the complete opposite in features; fair skin and hair with blue eyes, they originated from the merchants side of the town; bakers, butchers etc… Prim had inherited those features; many people could hardly believe that we were related let alone sisters.

"Hello sweethearts," he says, gruffly, finally looking up to reach our eyes.