It was always a terrifying feeling, waking up on this morning and feeling the sleep that had gathered in the corners of my eyes and knowing that this was potentially the last time that I would wake up in this familiar bed, in my home and surrounded by people who loved me. I leaned up, letting the threadbare blanket that miraculously conserved my heat slip and pool around my waist. I shivered, the bitterly cold morning caressed my skin curiously as I looked around the tiny room that I shared with my two sisters, pretending... just pretending, that this was the last time that I would wake up here and that every glance of the worn and dusty room was precious.

I pushed myself from beneath the warm covers, grimacing as the cold wooden floor burned against my bare feet. "Violet." I grumbled. "Violet, get up you lazy beast." I called to the quivering lump that was my younger sister, stifling a yawn. Violet could never be accused of being a morning person, since she was a tiny child it had been a terrible struggle to get her up for anything. Unlike our older sister, Luna, who was always up irritatingly early and was particularly smug about the fact. Indeed, her bed was already empty and her sheets were pulled tightly over the thin mattress.

"Violet!"

She poked her ruffled head out from her cocoon with a scowl, mumbling incoherently as she looked at me with bleary eyes. "Up." I commanded, tapping my foot and allowing a sardonic smile slip over my lips. She whined as she dragged herself from her bed and stomped in the direction of out small living space, no doubt in search of food. Thirteen, entered twice. I couldn't help but feel my gut clenching in terrible fear, she wouldn't last five minutes in the arena, she was too easily distracted and much too unaware of her surroundings. She was the beloved youngest baby of the family and the thought of losing her to the Capitol was almost too much to bear.

It was hard to pretend that there wasn't a gloomy atmosphere hanging around that morning. Not just in our home, but in the silence of our neighbours and the streets that were usually awash with activity at this time of the morning. It was a fear that was never acknowledged, but everyone knew that it was there, growing in intensity in the pits of our stomachs. On Reaping Day morning, uncertainty of the future was something that plagued every household.. all it took was a name on a stray scrap of paper amongst thousands and two families were scattered, while the rest rose up in grim celebration.

"Oh, Stop looking so glum."

My mother ordered, her slate eyes shining. Breena was one of those eternally optimistic people who believe that as long as you remained positive and smiling, nothing terrible could touch you. She was a blazing beacon amongst the coal dust and it was easy to see why she was adored by so many people. Such vibrancy was hard to find in District 12. All four of her children looked just like her: curling brown hair that was so dark it seemed black, olive-toned skin and gray, sparkling eyes. It was for her that I mustered up a smile and shoveled the bland oatmeal into my mouth. My father leaned back in his chair, looking pensive and brooding... we'd inherited out mother's look, but with exception of Luna, we had all inherited out fathers biting sarcasm and cynical approach to life. Something that forever annoyed Breena, but probably was one of the motivating factors that they worked so well as a couple. Opposites attract.

"We're running late." My father said, raising his eyebrow at Violet. "You may want to head out and get ready. Can't keep them waiting."

Within the hour, we had pooled together our water supply and vigorously washed and dressed ourselves in our finest clothes. The soft material of our clothes had become thin and faded but they fitted like a dream, shabby in comparison to Capitol standard but elegant by ours. I smiled as I looked in the shiny piece of mirror that had black spots hiding beneath its surface; my wavy hair had been pinned back with a few tendrils of hair fluttering over my slightly too prominent cheek bones and the slightly hollowed cheeks. I was dressed in a tight-fitting green dress that clung to my frame perfectly, the colour emphasizing the warm blue-grey of my eyes. It was shallow to feel some comfort in looking good, but I would take anything that I could.

Together, the six of us walked huddled close. My brother's arm hung around my shoulders in a protective and comforting manner. Marcus was twenty and thankfully exempt from being reaped... one less child for my parents to worry about. As we neared the town centre, the throng of hungry looking people grew thicker and the heavy blanket of silence fell around us. Peacekeepers patrolled with a larger presence than on previous Reaping days, the Capitol was terrified of a resurgence in rebellious thoughts.

"We'll be waiting here for you, children... we'll see you soon." My mother said with a beam that hid her anxiety expertly, the only sign of her inner turmoil was the hand that clutched at my father's arm, the knuckles glowed with whiteness and the tendons strained beneath her tawny skin. Marcus hung back, his face tight as he looked toward where the children were already being sorted into their respective areas. I knew what he was thinking, he wanted to leap in there with us and protect us no matter what the cost. We kissed our parents, hugged our brother and with reassuring smiles, we backed away.

"Violet, will you be okay?" Luna asked, pushing her curly hair behind her ears looking anxious about leaving our younger sister alone with the other thirteen year olds. Luna was eighteen and she was fiercely protective over the both of us. Violet nodded, her face blank and with a final hug we parted ways. I breathed deeply as I stood with the rest of the District 12 seventeen year old girls. We were terrified, but we were old enough to deal with our fear and hide it. The twelve year olds were having no such luck, most were crying, some were even being sick.

A flurry of activity on the stage and suddenly the silence thickened. A hideous woman with lilac hair and aqua skin had stepped up and was looking over the crowd with a terrifying smile. She was pleased to be here, Capitol always believed that they were doing us a great honour. Behind her stood the three Victors of District 12, Katniss, Peeta and Haymitch. Rumour had it, that though they were permitted to mentor, they were strictly monitored with no privacy. Their faces were pinched and worn... their rebellion had been crushed and all their hopes for change had been undone; we weren't going to be changing for a very long time.

"Welcome, District 12! To the Reaping of the 79th Annual Hunger Games!"

We all looked forward blankly, barely listening to her and her ridiculous accent. We all zoned out as the mayor spoke his customary speech and all watched as the video that flickered on the screen before us played. They had footage of the new rebellion now and the strong reminder that the Capitol was more powerful than ever.

And then it was time.

The District Escort, Olia Bumble, took a step forward with a beauteous smile on her face. "And now to choose our tributes, ladies first!" The silence was tangible, thick and unyielding and it seemed that each child, each family held their breath as the monstrous looking woman reached her hand into the glass bowl. Her fingers were the fishing rod and each thin slip of paper were the vulnerable fishes. No one looked away as a fish but and writhed between Olia's fingertips.

"And the female tribute for District 12 is..." She paused dramatically and there was crescendo of fear in every girls heart as each second beat past with agonising slowness.

"Selene Merrat!"

There was a sigh of relief from those that had not been chosen, a breath of wind in the windless air. But there was silence and the blood rushed to my ears. My heart leaped into my mouth and all of sudden it felt as though I had been submerged deep under the water. I felt sick. I felt so sick. This couldn't be happening to me.

No no no no no no.

A voice close to me whispered my name and told me that they were sorry, that I had to go up. I heard a scream in the distance... high and anguished. Through the haze, I felt my feet move me numbly toward the stage. Everyone had sympathy in their eyes, but I knew what they were thinking. 'I'm glad that it isn't me, I'm glad that isn't my daughter.'

The monster woman beamed, her face stretching with perverse glee. "Wonderful!" I barely noticed as she called the male tribute to the stage, barely noticed as we shook hands, the un-enthusiastic applause or as we were lead away like the sacrificial lambs that we were. I knew what they were thinking.

I'm so glad it's not me.