Selene Luna
Attempting to wake me up, throwing various pillows at my face and chucking buckets of cold water, my brothers seem perplexed by how deeply I can sleep on a day of the Reapings, while in reality, I just lay in my bed giggling quietly to myself at how stupid my brothers can truly be. When they least expect it, I turn around and shriek in the most high-pitched voice I can attain. They both run out with tears streaming down their faces. My laugh echoes throughout our home, which is a three story Victorian house.
I put on my favorite, semi-showing dress that makes me look like a complete prostitute, but I'm fine with that. I am not fine with it because guys think I am easy to get, which I am not by any standards, unless you count having lost my virginity at the age of eleven – note my bit of sarcasm. The real reason of me being okay with the dress is that I know that to win the Capitol's people's adoration and, most importantly, their money, I am going to have to use my beauty to my advantage. It'll be easy to get sponsors to line up by the street-full with just a little glimpse of my smile, that I will exhibit during the Reapings today after I volunteer. Once I get to the Capitol, and it's time for the interviews on Caesar Flickman's show, I am going to overwhelm every single individual, specifically males but also a few women, with my natural beauty and shower the audience with kisses, making them pretty much yearn for even the slightest chance of being allowed to sponsor me. Piece of cake.
My family and I arrive at the Reapings, and we endure all the dull crap that the escort, Tulip Yong, and the mayor say. Finally, I hear the name of a girl announced, "Tiffany Lobel." Many girls volunteer at once, but the funny thing is, in our district, there's no such thing as volunteering easily. Everyone who wants to volunteer says "I volunteer" but then must fight another competitor until one of them says "I surrender". It's a tournament to see who's our next tribute. It continues until there is one person left as the winner of the tournament. Simple really. I have no friends, so I don't hold back with the fighting. My entire life so far has been devoted to fighting, hence, not many people wish to be friends with a killing machine.
No matter. I'll win the Games, come home, live in the victor's house, which I might say is the same size as my house already, because my family is one of the wealthiest in the district, and then boast to everyone in District 1 that I am the best fighter around. Maybe even boast a bit outside of my own district. The victory tour is perfect for gloating because there'll be the families of the dead losers weeping, so it'll show to everyone that I am a heartless assassin. Trust me, this is not new information to me.
I win the tournament with ease, announce my name into the microphone for all of District 1 to hear, "Selene Luna," and I sit on the chair located on the left side of the stage, awaiting the selection of the boy tribute, who will probably be my ally traditionally speaking, but I don't need allies. I'll slit his throat like a pig if I want to. I don't care. I'm coming home, and that's all there is to it.