Rosaline Snow's POV
As I slouch on the stiff, lumpy cot of the shelter, the grainy television buzzes to life. Ugh. Mandatory viewing. The reporter, Janice Jackman, flickers onscreen, standing in the newly-built Justice Building of the Capitol. This doesn't surprise me. Janice has pretty much been reporting 24/7 for the past few weeks. Janice's dull mouse brown hair is in it's usual sloppy bun, and her beady eyes still have that rodent-like feel to them. She's still wearing her drab, generic suit, and her face is still droopy and free of alterations. Janice Jackman is one of the world's most boring people. She never changes. I begin to tune her monotonous commentary out, and my eyelids began to droop. I think I might sleep through this mandatory viewing.
Janice drones on, and I begin to think I hate her voice more than any voice in the world. More than my stylist Serania's shrill, annoying squeal. More than my stupid grandfather Coriolanus Snow's slithery snarl. I hope that a voice will replace Janice's. Any voice, I don't care unless it's not hers. And suddenly, as if on cue, it does. President Paylor's authoritative voice interrupts my thoughts. "As decided in a vote before the passing of former president Alma Coin, we will proceed with a final and symbolic Hunger Games. There will be on twist to the Games- the tributes will be the Capitol children aged 12-18 most directly related to the Capitol citizens who held the most power. "
I feel like someone has just clubbed me with a mace or whatever they used in the Hunger Games. I choke on the air and my heart kicks into high gear, beating out of my chest. I have to get out of here. My grandfather was the former president Coriolanus Snow, the president who oppressed and starved the Districts, murdered their children year after year. He held the most power in the Capitol before the rebellion. I am Rosaline Isabelle Snow, grand daughter of former President Snow and as of right now, a tribute in the Hunger Games.