Let's say that we all live in Panem, the place where people are separated into Districts, fashion is most likely inspired by Halloween costumes, and- let's not forget, the annual blood bath that rich people call reality TV!
Long story short, every year the Capital forces two children, a boy and a girl, between the ages of Twelve and Eighteen from each district into an arena to kill each other to show the people of Panem their power, just because the Districts tried to rebel against them.
Overkill, am I right?
Now that the crappy history lesson is over, (Brought to you by Your's Truely) let's say that you're from one of the poorer Districts, like Eleven or Twelve. You're somewhere in your teenage years, and you're the only source of income your family has. Not to mention that you're probably going through puberty or something. Oh, and we can't forget the fact that you're in the running to be in the Hunger Games. (Kudos to you for handling that kind of life with grace.)
It's that time of year again, and everyone in your age group is scared out of their minds. No one wants to hear their name get called by the escort. No one wants to have to face the arena, and be forced to kill.
As the day of the reaping draws closer, parents spend more time with their kids, less work gets done, and kids get more uptight and jittery as the feeling of fear twits and turns in their guts.
Soon everyone in your poor excuse of a home is lined up in front of a stage. The escort reaches into the ball and lo and behold either A.) Your name gets drawn, or B.) Someone who you love gets drawn, and being the hero you are volunteer for them.
Anyway, you and the other tribute are taken away without as much as a goodbye to your family to the esteemed Capital.
Now, after you've finished wallowing in doubt and self pity, you're probably asking yourself one, very important question;
How In The World Am I Supposed To Win This?
