"Primrose Everdeen."

Around me, a few people mutter unhappily about a twelve-year-old being chosen, but I think I'm having an out-of-body experience.

This shouldn't have happened. I haven't had many real interactions with Katniss, but anyone who observed her for about five seconds would know that she loves her sister more than anything. And I know that she's the main provider for her family. Prim can't have taken out any tesserae; Katniss wouldn't have let her have more than the absolute bare minimum of slips in the Reaping bowl.

And suddenly, I know what's about to happen.

"Prim! Prim!"

Katniss is running forward to volunteer for her sister.

I have an immediate, desperate impulse to do something, I don't know what, and actually take a half-step forward before I stop myself. There's nothing I can do. They'd beat me or kill me and Katniss would have to go to the Games anyway. This is my worst nightmare.

Up at the stage, I can see Katniss climbing the steps as Prim is carried away by Gale Hawthorne. He's probably her closest friend—even in this moment, I don't like to think about what else they might be—and even he can't do anything to stop this. What was I thinking? Even if it were possible for someone as utterly inconsequential as me to do anything to stop the Capitol from having what they wanted, Katniss wouldn't want my help. I'm a complete stranger to her.

Effie Trinket asks for a big round of applause, but the crowd stays silent. This is a bold, unprecedented move, but if anyone could cause it, it's Katniss. She just has that effect on people.

Katniss, though, clearly doesn't know the effect she has, because she seems stunned by the crowd's reaction for a moment before forcing herself into composure. Then the hands start going up.

The people are raising three fingers to her. It's a gesture used in our district to say goodbye to a loved one.

My hand is one of the first ones raised.

For a moment, all is quiet, as the entire district gives Katniss this silent salute. Then Haymitch Abernathy stumbles forward to declare that she's got "spunk" before falling off the stage like an old drunk, which, unfortunately, he is.

As the Capitol's camera's focus on him, I think I see Katniss choke out a small sob.

Now it's time to choose the male tribute. As I take a moment to marvel over the events that just occurred which I don't think anyone could have seen coming, Effie Trinket snatches a slip of paper from the second Reaping ball and crosses back to the microphone to read the name.

"Peeta Mellark."

Apparently, the universe has decided to make my worst nightmare even worse.

I've seen a dozen different horrific Capitol mutts try to kill me or people I love, I've seen Katniss turn into a mutt in my own mind, and I've even seen myself kill one of my own squad members.

But nothing I've seen is as gruesome as this.

The Capitol has bombed a barricade full of their own children.

I can't form the words to describe the gore there is here. About half the children are still alive, stumbling around in shock from injuries and near misses. About half a minute ago, a hovercraft with the Capitol's seal showered silver parachutes down on the children. Then half of them exploded all at once. This is a scene straight from my worst nightmare, and in my horror and panic I feel the shiny memories tugging at me, threatening me.

The crowd surrounding the barricade is in a mass panic. Peacekeepers are breaking down the barricade to clear a path to the children, and then out of nowhere a group of rebel medics moves in to help them. I'd recognize those white uniforms anywhere. I've spent weeks surrounded by them.

The silvery, poisonous fog in my mind is trying to overtake me, and I start sweating as I fight it off. I can't lose myself now to the mutt. Not in this mob, watching this scene. I'll die, or someone else will. I won't let myself murder anyone else. I won't.

Then I see Prim.

Her blonde hair is in one braid instead of two, and her face is full of frantic compassion as she kneels down to help a shrieking child. All around, sirens and screams are shaking the very air.

Abruptly, my head clears. The sight of her snaps me into focus somehow, as for the first time since my rescue, the shimmering fog clears away from my memory of that horrible day a year and a half ago. A sense of premonition overcomes me, and it's tinged strangely with a feeling of deja vu.

Suddenly, I know what's about to happen.

Over the earsplitting roar of the crowd, I hear her.

"PRIM! PRIM!"

I turn and see her through the mass of bodies, running forward to save her sister. And just like I did a year and a half ago, I have a desperate, immediate impulse to run forward and do something. Only this time—I still can't believe I remember the last time so clearly—there's no reason to stop myself.

I start pushing my way through the crowd, trying to get to Prim, to Katniss, when my worst nightmare is made worse.

The rest of the parachutes explode.

And then I'm knocked out by the all-too-familiar sensation of everywhere pain.