"You're so beautiful."

"Hannah, stop it. You're just saying that because we're twins."

I looked up at the mirror to my sister, her gaze meeting mine. I felt a gentle tug at the back of my head as the comb fell through my hair. Hannah diverted her eyes and continued brushing, lightly pulling when she came across a knot.

"We're fraternal. We don't look alike."

I bit my lower lip, feeling the tension rise in the air. There was a pause as the room became silent. I finally turned my head, interrupting her strokes.

"Hannah," I said. "You're not ugly, so get over yourself."

Offended and slightly shocked, Hannah held my stare. I timidly turned back around, and the familiar feeling of bristles proceeded to caress my scalp.

A small voice came from behind me. "My name's going to come out of that bowl today, I just know it."

"That's not true. Tributes come from the Seam, it's always been that way. They're the ones with their names in there ten-thousand times."

"Yeah, but his time we've got twice the amount of tributes. One of them's bound to be a Townie."

"But the name she pulls out is not going to be Hannah Donner. There's a bunch of them, but only one you. The odds are in your favor."

With that, we bursted into snickers.

"Maysilee? Hannah? It's time to go," our mother yelled from across the house.

"Coming," we both chimed, sharing a smile.

xXx

Journal Entry #1, April 25, 2098

I really don't know why I'm taking the time to make this. This is as much a journal as a suicide note. I guess I'm writing this so that after I'm dead someone will find out what I've done, and my legacy (if you can even call it that) will be remembered properly. Or maybe I just want somewhere to vent. Who knows what's going on in my mind. I certainty don't.

Dear Reader (if you exist),

After reading that last bit, you're probably wondering what it is that I've done. Heck, you're also probably wondering why I'm going to die so soon. Well, the answer to the second question is easier than the first. It's not because of old age. After all, I'm only seventeen. It's because my name is entered into the reaping 42 times.

"But Maysilee," you say, "why is that! You come from wealthy people. You father is a jeweler for crying out loud! You shouldn't need any tesserae."

I know, I know. Shocking. My parents don't know this, and neither does Hannah. It's my little secret, one that I keep to myself. You see, the tesserae that I receive doesn't go to my family. It goes to the starving, helpless families of the Seam.

I'm a very good observer. Some would even call my abilities 'stalking.' Through my meandering trips around the the Seam, I've learned where each and every family lives. Creepy, right? But trust me, I do this for a good cause. I know the types of families that live in each house. I know the ages of their children, how many children they have, and how often the children are being fed. This information helps me make my choice.

I take tesserae for each of my family members, including myself, which equals up to seven. Two parents, one twin, one sister, and two means that each month I get enough grain and oil for seven people to feed off of until my stock is replenished. Once I get these rations from the market, I wait until dark, delivering the grain and oil to the doorsteps of needy families under the mask of night. This is why I've studied the houses of the Seam so closely. I only choose families that have many young children and cannot afford to feed all of them.

Now that I am approaching my sixth year in the reaping, the number of times my name has been put in that big glass bowl surpasses forty. The chances that I am to be picked are very significant, especially considering that there will be four chosen tributes instead of only two. The odds, definitely, are not in my favor.

Time and time again, I've pondered my decision. Was charity really worth risking my life? After all, if I go into the Hunger Games, my chances of coming out are very slim. If I die, the impact on my family will be devastating. My mother dotes on her children so much, I can't even imagine her reaction if she were to lose one. But when I see the frail, dirty body of an underprivileged Seam child, I know I made the right choice. Their health and wellbeing is worth the sacrifice.

xXx

Hannah and I held hands as we joined the shuffling crowd, making our way to the registration booths. We filed into a line, my sister in front, and waited, our downcast faces unmoving. I heard a sharp ow as Hannah's finger was pricked. When the needle breached my skin, I stayed quiet.

Still solemn, we headed towards the 17-year-old female section. When we arrived, we gave brief smiles and waves to some of our friends.

Make sure you acknowledge all of them, I couldn't help but think to myself, it may be the last time you see a group of familiar faces.

Standing in the crowd, I could feel my heart pounding In my chest. The propaganda movie played, and the District Twelve escort, Mariah Spellbound, gave her spiel.

"Welcome, ladies and gentlemen, to the 50th annual Hunger Games, and our second Quarter Quell! Wasn't that film just fantastic?"

A single sneeze was heard.

"Well, let's cut to the chase! As always, ladies first!"

Mariah reached her hand into the bowl, digging around. She pulled out the slip of paper containing the name of the first female tribute.

"Laila Deverpound!" she announced, as the audience let out a communal sigh. After a few minutes, Laila, a small girl looking to be about thirteen, entered onto the stage. She stared blankly ahead as Mariah greeted her, visibly shaking.

"And now, since this year's Quarter Quell dictates that we shall have four tributes, I will pick another name."

As Mariah's hand reached into the glass bowl, I held my breath, squeezing tightly my sister's hand.

So, what do you guys think? Should I continue? I would love for you to review. Thanks for reading!