Hi guys, this is my first story. I feel like Haymitch and Effie are a very unrecognized ship so I decided to dedicate this story to them. I love getting constructive criticism, but if you don't like the plot, please keep your thoughts to yourself. Thanks, now without further ado, let the first chapter of Forbidden Love, BEGIN!
Note: I do not own this world or characters. I only own the plot, words, and a laptop.

Chapter 1-Every year

Effie

I sit on the train, watching the landscape fly by in a whirlwind of greens and browns. The sky is clear, but is hardly noticeable, since the speed of the train is so fast. As I pass District 11, I can see the blur of workers in the fields and all the crops that they have worked so hard to grow.

I hear a gunshot. But I know that it wasn't a deer that was killed. It's illegal to hunt in the District's. President Snow keeps all the people of Panem, minus the Capitol, locked up in their home District with electric gates. The only way you get out, is if you get reaped. And you don't want to get reaped.

No, the gunshot came from a Peacekeeper. More like Peacewreakers. They kill the poor innocent people in the District's for pretty much no reason. But I'm privileged. I live in the Capitol. I don't have to work or deal with those menacing Peacekeepers. The Districts say that we're stupid. That we don't have a mind of our own. Well, I'd like them to know that at least I have a brain. I mean, why else would I go to District 12 every year?

My dab of genius started when I was 14. I was sitting in my bedroom, watching the second quarter quell, shipping all the hot boys with myself. Then, ranking the girls according to clothes. It was time for District 12 to give their interviews. I started to zone out. After all, no one hot ever comes from District 12. But then, I saw him. Haymitch Abernathy sat down next to Caesar Flickerman. Haymitch was the handsomest tribute I'd ever seen. His blonde hair swept across his face in a sparkling mess. He didn't smile, which made me love him more.

"So, Haymitch," said Caesar, "What do you think of this Quarter Quell? I mean, there are double the amount of tributes."

"There might be twice as many," said Haymitch, still without a smile. "But that doesn't make them any smarter."

Caesar looked astonished. He didn't think that a boy this young could have the nerve to say something like that. Especially not in front of the same bunch that is most likely going to kill him in a couple of days. But Haymitch didn't seem phased at all. He only sat up straighter and said, "Now, can I go now?"

I would pay a million dollars to see the look on Caesar's at that moment again. But, he quickly recovers with a, "How about a hand for District 12's second male tribute, Haymitch Abernathy."

The crowed hesitantly erupted into a sea of applause. But it was obviously only halfhearted. District 12 never does get a wholehearted applause. But this was a different kind of halfhearted. Imagine having to clap for a , who just said that all your favorite actors and actresses were idiots. That's the kind of applause that Haymitch got. But that didn't seem to affect him. Haymitch stood up and walked off the stage.

From that moment, I knew that he would be the winner the second Quarter Quell. He was too smart and confident to lose. I also knew that every year I would be the escort for District 12, no matter what anyone else says.

The moment that axe sank into the girl from District 1's head, I ran down to President Snow's mansion and signed up to be District 12's next escort. The President gave me some weird looks. Like, walking out in public without a stylish outfit kind of weird. No one signs up to be the escort for District 12. Not even the current one. He was pulled out of the waiting list for District 1. Needless to say, once I was 20, I was sent out to District 12. Every year for the rest of my life, I would pick the tributes and bring them back to the Capitol.

I never knew what it was like. Living in the Districts. Long story short, it's terrible. District 12's Peacekeeper's are pretty lenient. But I can't say the same for the other Districts. I've seen people being murdered for no reason. Thousands starving, trying to feed people in the Capitol who abuse their work. Children without laughter, and adults who die because they are forced to work for Snow.

That's another thing. Ever since I left the Capitol I don't call him President Snow. Just, Snow. I'm not blind. I know he's been doing all of this. He could stop the suffering if he wanted to. But the truth is, he doesn't want to. He enjoys having blood on his hands. He's just a sick, twisted, human being. If, you can call him that.

But I don't quit my job. It keeps me from getting sucked into the Capitol's lies. Plus, every year I get to see Haymitch. Even if most of the time he's drunk, and not planning on getting sober anytime soon.

My train of thought is disrupted by the sudden stop of the train. I stand up and brush off my spring green dress. I take a step towards the door, the clack of my heels sound hollow on the mahogany floors. The doors open in front of me, revealing the dirty, broken, District 12. Families walk towards the town center, knowing that the two that get reaped today with probably be receiving their death sentence. No one has won from District 12 since Haymitch. And only one other person had won before that.

They don't know how to fight. They barely know how to stay alive. There is no hope in District 12. Not from the young or the old. But despite all of this, I put on my award winning Capitol smile and step out of the train.