Prologue:

In The Land of Forbidden Rights

The sunlight struck my face as I groaned at the start of yet another new day. I tried not to wake my sleeping husband, but thanks to the noise the mattress made, that was impossible.

I felt a hand grace my own as I stood up. He usually does that when he wants to talk, or when he wants to 'play', or when something is wrong. If I had to guess correctly, it was neither of the first two.

He groaned softly as he looked up at my barely clothed form.

"Good morning, beautiful," he started, "you excited?"

I rolled my eyes at him.

"What's there to be excited about?" I spoke as I rose from my bed.

He sat up in bed, revealing the somewhat cut form that was my husband's body.

"The Reaping? The one day where kids sign their death warrants?" He spoke matter-of-factly.

That's right. It's reaping day. Ugh. That's right…..the one day I hate the most, and where I receive kids who will most likely die in the annual Hunger Games. The games were established as a way of punishing those who rebelled against the capitol by forcing their kids to fight to the death every year.

"John, you know how much I hate reaping day." I sighed. I didn't, as much as I had obligations to, want to look at these new kids.

"I know, Emily. But, you know you have to get through this….for them, right?"

"Of course I know, John, but those poor kids-you don't know what they are going to have to face in that arena! The cold, the sickness, the inhumanity and brutality of the other tributes! It-it's just sickening…and…!" John grabbed my arm, turned me around, and had me look in his eyes.

"Emily! Listen to me! I know what you went through was traumatic, but you need to get over it. Every year, it's like this. I know it's not easy, but those kids need you. As District 11's coach, they need you. They need guidance, experience that they can draw from, and they can't draw from it if their coach is doing nothing but ignoring and avoiding them at every turn. Please, I know you can do this…"

John kissed my forehead as I fell into his chest, crying. He continued to soothe me, or attempt to at least. He doesn't know what I went through in the arena….he doesn't understand. He just doesn't understand….

I was entered in because of my father….