Chapter 1: … Like Dogs in a Pound

"Spare him." I demand as I gaze directly into the eyes of the gamekeeper, Seneca Crane.

"But… Miss Rosaline… I can't…" He stutters.

"You're the gamekeeper. You can do anything…can't you?" I question the condescending tone in my voice stinging his ego.

"But the President…"

"…wants me to be happy…" I mutter in a clipped tone.

"I understand but…

"Make it happen," I snap as I storm out of the room, "Or you won't survive the Hunger Games either!" I stomp down the long hallway of pure white that gleams from the long windows that line the walkway, purposeful steps echoing off the walls.

Finnick is waiting at the entrance to my rooms with a smug little smirk on his face.

"What are you smirking at?" I question as I open the French style doors to my room and breeze by him. He, of course, follows with that annoyingly smug smirk on his face.

"What were you talking to the Crane about?" He questions with his normal devious air.

"None of your business," I snap defensively.

"You're going to make him spare your lover boy, aren't you? Usually you don't care this much…"

"Usually I don't get involved."

"With good reason…"

"Is there something you needed Finnick?" I question my friend in exasperation.

"My tributes are dead so I don't really have anything else to do…"

I know that as a mentor he can't be impartial and emotionless like I am. He gets a chance to get to know them as people, something that I try to avoid. I walk over toward him and open my arms in a hug which he gladly returns. He is only a couple of years older than me and when he was first made a tribute he was my favorite. I ended up sponsoring him and I was quite pleased when he won. We pulled away from one another and I hold him at arm's length for a bit.

"Why is he so special?" he questions breaking the moment.

I shrug to avoid the question as I walk over to my wall of nail polishes gazing about at the array of colors to distract me from his prying.

"Is it because he looks like him?"

"Drop it Finnick!" I snap in a sharp voice, although I know that he isn't the least bit afraid of me like everyone else is. When you are the favorite granddaughter of President Snow you are practically royalty. What am I talking about? I am royalty.

He merely sends me a sad smile and wraps his arms around me from behind. Finnick had become one of my best friends over the past few years. It hadn't been easy to win his trust, but I think that, despite our backgrounds, that he truly does care about me. Of course, had it not been for him I don't think I would be this way anyway.

I glance over to the screen that has been permanently tuned to the Hunger Games since its beginning. I watch with concealed horror as the wolves, the final horrifying twist that the entire department has been so proud of, begins to attempt to literally rip him apart. All of a sudden the wolves back off of him and a canon goes off and a hover craft comes and collects him. Contrary to popular belief, he isn't dead; instead I know that a team of highly skilled doctors are taking care of him right now. When he is returned to me he will be as good as new and I can't wait.

I allow a small smirk of delight to grace my lips as the camera shifts to the hovercraft and the doctors, who are madly working to save the life of Cato Brimstone.

The Day of the Reaping

"ROSALINE!" screeches the voice of my stylist as she barrels into my sitting room. I jump startled out of the trance that the book I'm reading has me locked in. I glare over at her, like everyone else in this damn place she doesn't even have the grace to look ashamed for her rude actions.

"What is it Luxury?" Yes… her name is Luxury…

"THE REAPING! The new tributes are about to be revealed! And if rumor has it, and I think it does, it's going to be an interesting year!"

I wince as she squeals in excitement runs over to me and grabs my arm dragging me off into the next room where a large TV is set up to watch the reapings.

I don't understand all of this excitement… I mean really it's like watching a funeral march. I sigh as I'm forced to endure another year of torment at the hands of the Hunger Games.

I recall the day I realized that the Hunger Games weren't just a Reality TV Show, that the death that it depicts is real. As President Snow's Granddaughter, especially when I was little, all of the celebrities wanted to meet me. Getting their picture taken with me at premieres and events is a huge deal. Also I got to meet he tributes, I loved meeting them. When I was about 9 one in particular one stood out to me from the beginning. When I met him I was enamored and followed him about whenever I could get away. I cried when he went off to the Hunger Games but I knew that after they were done filming the Hunger Games that he would come back and play with me like he said he would. When he died in the games I was excited that I would get to see him soon. I asked Grandpa about it, but he just looked at me in concern.

"You know what death is, don't you my little Rose?"

I not hesitantly in confusion, 'what could this possibly have to do with my request to see Collin?'

"Well Rosie… He's dead…"

"No silly!" I exclaim in relief, "He just died in the Games, he isn't really dead!" I laugh innocently.

"But darling… the games are real… I'm afraid that Collin really is dead…"

In that moment, stark understanding hit me like a bolt of electricity. The images of his death, gruesome and bloody, at the hands of a cruel tribute are burned into my memory. That was, of course, just my first taste of the horror that The Hunger Games provide.

"The Tributes from District Two are: Clove Faneil and Cato Brimstone!"

I pale at the image displayed on the screen of the male tribute from District Two. He is the spitting image of him…

What am I supposed to do now?