Mmkay, so this is my first fic. BE NICE. Though I do want hints and tips and reviews and stuff, please don't be too too harsh.

Today was the day. The day my parents were going to explain. I had known my whole life I was from a "special" family. Now… I finally get an explanation.

I'm a bit nervous, I must admit. It must be something horrible considering I had to wait for 15 years to know it, right?

My mother and dad walk in, nonchalantly, but I know their ulterior motive. She sighs when she sees my face. I've never been very good at hiding my expressions, or so I've been told.

" I should've known you'd be listening." (Apparently, she'd forgotten that I do that all the time. I think that was just a 'speech-starter') "Alright, sit Lea." my mother begins.

My mother, Katniss Everdeen, and my father, Peeta Mellark, were involved in something called the Hunger Games. This is all I know at the moment. We learned a bit about it in school, but now it's more of Math-Science-Social Studies-Language Arts. Which I don't think is any better, even though I'm good in school, I don't particularly like it.

Oh, and my name's Azelea, Azalea Mellark. (Lea for short).

Named after the red-orange Azalea flower. Virtually looks like fire itself.

She plops down next to me, father stays standing. Ugh! She's giving me the look again! I hate it when she gives me that look. It means, "I'm-about-to-tell-you-something-important-so-don't-pull-any-of-your-childish-nonsense." Sooo annoying.

The occasion is my birthday, I'm now, officially, 15. (Which is why "The Look" annoys me so much. I am not a child anymore…)

My outfit? (I like fashion- so unlike my mother) A dark green dress, about 3 inches above the knee, with a black empire waist-sash. So cute.

I overheard them talking about telling me, I do this a lot (even though I'm not very good). They usually know when I am,

It might be because my mom is such a great hunter. She can sense things others can't.

One other reason why I got caught is that my little 8-year-old brother, Rye, (named after Rye bread) ran in the room yelling at them for not noticing my presence. And since I was caught kneeling right in front of the door, I couldn't really argue my case.

My brother, short blonde hair, beautiful grey eyes, as all the mothers and their daughters say. What am I then, hmm?

I, on the other hand, have long dark brown hair almost black, naturally wavy, brilliant ice blue eyes. I'm tall about 5/7, I weigh about one-hundred and ten pounds. A little more, but who's counting? I have had exactly 5 ½ boyfriends in my life. The half is for some really short guy who just asked me out in the hope that my height would somehow rub off on him. It didn't work… he's still puny. (That was in fifth grade, by the way).

So, my mother continues.

"Here goes." She sighed, "Lea, honey, why don't you first tell us what you know."

So, I told them. I knew that they were somehow involved in the Hunger Games, and they did something that had to do with there not being any Hunger Games now.

Then she told me their story, my father chipping in at times:

Dad had loved Mom since they were 5 years old, Mom's daddy died when she was twelve. That's when she learned to hunt. Then they were entered in the Hunger Games, at the age of 16, where two children, one boy, and one girl, ages 12-18, were put into an arena to fight to the death, so that there was one victor in the end. The Games were a way to keep the districts in line, they were controlled by what is now the Peaceful Capitol. (It used to just be 'Capitol'). My parents won by pretending to be in love, only for my dad, it wasn't pretending. Then, at the quarter Quell, tributes were reaped out of the existing pools of victors, so Mom and Dad went in again. It was cut short, on account of the rebellion. The rebels won, thank god. Many good people died though, including Aunt Prim and my parent's friend… Oh, geez, what was it? ...Finnick? Yeah, that's it. I think there was a Cinna too, her stylist in the games. My mother had been falling for Dad throughout the whole ordeal, only just realizing it after it was all over.

They made what is/has been, a now peaceful Panem, for thirty years now.

Honestly, I feel a bit better. I'm glad they waited to tell me. It's a butt-load to drop on someone who's 14, completely back breaking if they're 9.

I was right. The Hunger Games are horrible, forcing children to kill each other for the Capitol's amusement? That any human being would even find that amusing… It's disgusting. Or, as Rye would put it, disgusterous. The Capitol… I hate what it did to my parents. Every night my mother wakes up screaming, fighting to get loose from the nightmare's grasp but father is there to guide her through it. He doesn't have as 'severe' nightmares; most of the time he gets an intense look on his face, his hands frantically searching for something to hold on to.

Now I know why.

~LATER~

We all head back down to the kitchen, for a midnight snack. Rye is asleep; apparently my birthday party tired him out. Which is somewhat understandable, since he was practically bouncing off the walls. We all sat down around the table, me, Dad, and Mom, and ate Nutella sandwiches. (Mine folded over, of course).

We say goodnight, my parents whisper 'happy birthdays' to me, and before I know it, I am in my jammies and under the striped purple-blue-and-green IKEA covers, my favorite song playing through my head, lulling me into a deep sleep:

This fire rising through my being,

Burning, I'm not used to seeing you…

I'm alive, I'm still alive!

I can feel you, all around me

Thickening the air I'm breathing,

Holding on to what I'm feeling,

Savoring this heart that's healing

Take my hand

I give it to you,

Now you owe me all I am

You said you would never leave me

I believe you,

I believe.

Shpanks for reading the first chapter of my first fic, I hope you like it!

I'll try to update… Hrmm… once or twice a week? I don't know, it could be longer.

I MAKE NO PROMISES.

*Lurve*

Meg. :))