Disclaimer: I do not own the hunger games Suzanne Collins does.

Also I wrote this a long time ago, but I've decided to revise it before going on to the next chapter. I really liked the plot I had so I definitely plan on continuing though.

THE BEGINNING

I tripped through the woods sprinting as fast as I could. It was pitch black and all I could hear was its heavy breathing getting closer and closer. The leaves rustled around us, adrenaline drowning out all of my fears. I didn't even feel the branches slamming against my body; I didn't even notice the shrieking from way behind me. What I did notice was the daggers whistling three centimeters from my face. It took all the courage in my body to stop running and face what was coming. At least he's still alive, I thought, the memory of his warm hands over mine flooding through me. Three things went through my mind at that point; I would keep my promise to him, and, to do that, I was was not going to die. Not yet...

/-/-/-/-/

It seemed like a typical day in District 8. The industrious fumes poured out of the factories turning the sky a permanent gray color. The small always crowded tenements looked as dreary as any other day. The only difference was the deserted streets. The street filth rolled solemnly from side to side and the rats scurried from pothole to pothole looking for food. The entire District had the day off today in order to prepare for The Reapings, in an hour.

The Reapings were when two names, a boy and a girl's aged twelve through seventeen, were chosen from each district in order to compete against each other on live television which was called the Hunger Games. They fought until the last one was standing. It was a way for Capital to punish everyone by forcing them to watch young children walk possibly to their deaths. The Capitol was punishing us for our ancestors rebelling years ago. Way to be optimistic, I thought to myself sarcastically as I turned from the sad scene outside my window.

"Charlotte, stop gawking out the window and do something useful," My dad, Thread, said aggravated. It's a wonder I haven't been kicked out of the house yet. My father and brother absolutely hated me yet they never told me why. It was implied that it had to do with my mother. I barely remember what happened. While furiously making my way to my room someone knocked on our tiny, creaky door.

My best friend was standing at my doorstep dressed in his best clothes, a white dress shirt and black dress pants. His black hair lay in a disheveled mess and blue eyes twinkled mischievously. He smiled at me sadly. We were both fourteen and though we have been through two Reapings the dread of being chosen terrified us.

I looked up as my older brother, Drew, stomped down the rickety stairs. Even his perpetually angry face, was blank as a canvas. He made a point to not to look at me, averting his brown eyes, and marched out of the house towards the town plaza. I watched his dark shoulder length hair blow in the wind and sighed.

"Let's go." Will looked at me knowingly. Something flashed across his face that I couldn't quite make out. Lately, I couldn't tell what he was thinking. It seemed like he began keeping a barrier up between us. I turned away from Will to see the people of District 8 pour into the Town's Square. Will touched my arm and I nodded feeling like breaking the silence would be disastrous.

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