My name is Saskia Taft. I was fifteen and a half years old. I'm from District 10.

I have lived in a farm all my life. I was selected to participate in the 64th Hunger Games.

We were all equally terrified. Even the careers looked shocked. It was the first thing I noticed as soon as the buzzing sound of the lift in the form of a glass cylinder fell silent. I must have had the same facial expression as someone who has just been dipped in acid.

All 24 tributes stood on its explosive metal plate, stiff and tense . Some looked like wild tigers, just waiting to pounce forward and grab all the gifts that seemingly looked randomly spread out but was in fact carefully positioned to ensure as much blood as possible so that the audience would not get bored, and some looked like lambs before slaughter.

Everyone's metal plates were placed in a circle around the Cornucopia which made it inevitable to avoid each other - whichever direction you run unless you turn abruptly back and run straight into the deep, vibrant rainforest that looked highly inhospitable.

Since it would have been impossible to actually have the metalplates in the woods, we stood on a low plateau. A perfectly round, artificial circle with grass and where I stood, the whole sky looked like a huge inverted blue bowl with a glowing yellow ball of light in the center. It was a sunny day with no clouds, at least I do not think there was any. I was too busy thinking of a way not to panic or get off the plate too soon.

All sounds seemed to be amplified in my ears. Every breath sounded like a scream, the robotic voice that counted down the seconds filled up my head and echoed inside of it and seemed to cause vibrations in the ground and the air. My galloping heartbeat sounded like someone beat with all his strength on a drum. It was horrible, there are no words that can describe the feeling I had at the time.

"Ten." Said the voice that seemed to come from nowhere. I wanted to yell, "Shut up! Shut up! Let me be! I wanna go home! "

But of course, I did not. Instead, I focused on a black backpack that was about 14 yards away from me and ... everyone else. I would have to run straight into the action to get it.

"Two. One. "Continued the voice. Then sound of the signal fired and everything turned into a jumble of chaos.

But I could view the following during the half of a second as I watched the opening of the 64th Hunger Games, not on a screen but with my own eyes. Two girls stood on their metal plates while all the others sprinted toward the shiny, silvery Cornucopia to gather weapons, bags or food. A muscular boy from District 1 grabbed a blonde girl's ponytail and kicked her down violently and two other boys beat on each other with the intent to kill. Fear and the survival instinct took over.

I wasted no additional time and ran as fast as my legs could move to the black backpack. The ground felt compact and solid under my feet and the wind was very warm against my face and smelled fresh.

So far, most tributes were unarmed but it was not long before a dark-haired guy had picked up a sword and cut down the first person that he saw (a small boy).

There was so much that happened that I missed out on, and for that I was glad. But I could not avoid hearing the noise. Terrified screams that only those who are close to death can achieve rang in my ears, even as an echo when they abruptly ended and the unpleasant sound of crunching and snapping bones was heard. Before me I saw several people who disappeared into the rain forest's gaps. I wanted to quickly leave but in front of me a dark blonde girl with a big knife sat on the girl from District 5 as she stabbed her over and over and over. Blood splashed everywhere and stained the whole world into a red mess of confusion. I scooped up the black bag (which upon closer inspection was dark green) in my hand. It was lighter than I had hoped, but by this time I would have taken a sock, if I had managed to get away.

No one seemed to have taken notice of the squirrel-like girl with light auburn hair that ran toward the dark rainforest, which was me, it was at least what I thought. Until I felt a flash of pain that shot up from the back of my right thigh. But I did not stop, instead I plunged into creepers, trees and ferns in a dark green color that gave away some bristly noises when my thin dark brown raincoat came in contact with them. It was hard to see at first, but my eyes adjusted to the gloom quickly.

It felt like I was swimming through an emerald green ocean when I paved through ferns and struck vines and other foliage from my face. I had no idea what was stuck in my leg but it was awfully painful, but not bad enough that I would dare to stop. I heard a cry from a distance and stopped. But then I continued on, without looking back.

(DETTADETTADETTA)

After I had fled for a while, and made sure there was a long distance between the Cornucopia and the place I was standing, I dared to sink down and tilt my head against a high and knotty tree trunk. I was hidden by the leaves where I sat, and I was soaked in sweat. The first thing I did was to examine my leg. An arrow was stuck in the lower part of my right thigh and as I pulled it out, I regretted it almost immediately. It was so painful that I whimpered, and tears flowed down my cheeks. I gasped shallow breaths and held my hand over the hole where the blood flooded out. Eventually it became so sticky that I tore off a large leaf nearby and stuck it to the wound. Exhausted and traumatized but glad to be alive, I opened my bag. And in it I found the following:

• 1 Matchbox

• 1 Long and fairly thick rope

• 1 Package of painkillers

• 1 Camouflaged shirt

• 1 Long, curved and very sharp knife

• 1 Flashlight

• 2 Large packs of wheat crackers

• 1 Water Bottle

• 1 Iodine

I wished there were more food. Wheat biscuits were packaged in hard plastic and would not last for more than a few days. But I had at least something, which I was thankful for.

Although I've never been particularly religious, I put hands together and prayed silently to whoever that was listenening about finding a way to win the games and survive.

Then I packed up my things carefully, slowly and thoroughly. I slipped like a cat (an injured cat, in this case) through the trees without stepping too hard in the mud. I was terrified that someone would track my footsteps and find me when I was sleeping and rip my throat out in my sleep. If I would even survive until then, it felt like the night would never come.

The whole forest was full of strange sounds, such as birds' singing that I had not heard before and crickets of a different kind than the ones at home. Eventually, I became accustomed, and could distinguish sounds that did not belong. But even so, the sound of every crunching branch, scratching sound or sudden noise made me jump six feet in the air and get my heart beating violently.

The rainforest was hot and sticky with thick plants and creepers that hung down and entangled in each other. I could hear the sound of a small waterfall nearby which meant that water would not be hard to come by, which was good because I had almost started to go mad with worry that I would get dehydrated. And I knew what the consequences were, gruesome symptoms such as muscle cramps and headache until you become so weak that you dry out and die.

It is said that thirst is worse than hunger, and after seeing many Hunger Games it seems to be true. But I would rather not experience the thing myself. Suddenly I heard a rustle and chattering among the branches above me, my head flew up and my muscles flexed automatically. It was a small dirt brown monkey who jumped to another branch. I shook my head, I'd have a heart attack if I continued to be so paranoid and ready to flee any second. But I had to be.

The sky above was barely visible, the air was thick and a thin fog had settled over the treetops. I leaned shoulder against a tree with a smooth and light green trunk and breathed with heavy and strained breaths. My legs trembled as the pink jelly I ate as a dessert in the Capitol only a day before and then my knees buckled and I fell down on the forest floor.

A person can not witness so much violence, blood and fear, without it leaving a mark on you. In my head I still heard the screams and the terrible sound of a cold hard object which penetrated the skin and flesh. And I saw the blood in my mind. The entire Cornucopia was drenched with blood. Probably had my mind made even more horrible details in the memory but it still made me nauseous. The children talked, laughed and lived for only a few hours ago, now were lifeless bodies on a patch of grass which waited to be picked up, cleaned and sent in a wooden coffin to its District.

Angry and sad salty tears rolled down my dirty cheeks and I wiped them away furiously with my left jacketsleeve. It seemed hopeless for me, the chance that I could count the days I had left to live on my fingers was extremely high. I noticed that my clothes were dirty and muddy, especially my beige shirt. I would have to wash it soon. I heaved myself up on my feet and forced my legs to keep going, to stay still was certain death.

How, I did not know. Perhaps a death where I would be bitten by snakes, stung by scorpions or other poisonous insects or being found and killed by another tribute. The thought terrified me.

It was green everywhere, ferns grew and other leafy plants on the ground were in some places so tall that they almost covered my belly button. I was exactly 5'4 and a half inches long, and I knew that because we were properly measured in the Capitol. Back in District 10, we didn't have time nor money to get ourself measured.

I was sweating so much that my shirt clung to my skin and my pants felt heavy and made me slow. My injured leg made me extra clumsy while I made my way through the dense vegetation. It did not feel like I was in an enclosed arena with at least a dozen remaining murderous youths, the threat felt so inapprehensible that I was more worried for ambient hazards.

I noticed that the rocks were so slippery and sharp that you could easily slip and kill yourself if you accidentally step in the wrong place. And the emotional stress was easier to handle if you kept yourself busy, I noticed that very quickly. Although I noted how every tree looked like, how the soil felt and what kind of animals that was running around, fresh memories crept back into my head.

How many hours had passed since I escaped from the bloodbath? Three maybe. Or two. Or five. I had completely lost the grip on time. The sun still shone stubbornly through the canopy and the fog, creating a dim haze. When I came to a place near a small waterfall, I sat down to rest. My trembling fingers laced up my muddy boots and I stretched out my bright red, slightly swollen feet.

Then I heard a squelching, gasping and sounds of movement. Someone stumbled the way through the undergrowth and coughed loudly. I stiffened, terrified for a second and then I crawled into a tall shrub of ferns. A skinny and tall boy emerged from the greenery about nine yards to the right of me and held his stomach tightly with his right arm. He coughed, almost without stop with a rattling and slimy sound. I saw his brown-haired head disappear when he fell down on his knees and he gasped, obviously in pain.

I saw a glimpse of a small movement to the left of me on the ground. My gaze automatically shifted to the moving object there. A big and fat tarantula climbed determinedly up my hand and its hairy legs tickled the back of my hand in the most unpleasant way imaginable. I shrieked.