The hunger games.

Click, clack.

Click, clack.

The sounds of the teacup and saucer falling to the ground fill my ears and I remembered the day I knew my time was limited.

It had been an average day, or as average as it could get with the rebellion. For the last few days the Capitol had been screaming and crying. The peacekeepers were blowing up buildings, sending out these horrible. Brutal. Terrifying. Monsters to find the rebels. I had been locked inside my grandfather's house.

I guess it's not really much of a house. It's a grand palace complete with hordes of servants and chefs.

But no one else. Just me and grandpa and the servants and that's all.

And then it was just me.

I was on one of the lux couches watching the holograms when I saw two arrows fly. One at my grandfather, one at District 13's president, Coin.

No tears filled my eyes as his snow white hair matted in blood. The capitol was no more, for President Snow was dead. His life flashed before my eyes. I remembered the stories of his murders. I remembered the smell of blood and roses. I remembered the thud of his footsteps walking away after he tucked me in at night.

A hoarse scream escaped my lips. Part of the reason was that he was gone. But I'm thirteen, not three. I knew there would be some form of revenge. And I knew they would make an example of me.

My suspicions were confirmed as I watched another holographic broadcast.

There would be one more hunger games, but the games would only include the capitol teens. And I had a feeling these game makers wouldn't play nice with Snow's granddaughter.