~ Why hello there. I thought I'd try something new... Hunger Games related of course. All you Peeta fans out there, hope you like it ;) Reviews are welcome :) Enjoy... ~

"Primrose Everdeen." The strange women at the front's voice echoed around the town square.

I looked over at Katniss, the young girl's sister. She was too stunned to realize what had just happened. Then, as though a jolt had struck her she leapt into action, running through the crowd towards her sister.

"Prim!" She yelled, even though she was paces away from her now.

She reached the girl and pulled her behind her back. She stared up at the pink haired woman and practically screamed, "I volunteer. I volunteer as tribute."

"No," I gasped. No, please no. I'd never see her again, ever. Why? The thought bounced around my head, why, why, why, why, WHY!

Everything is muffled, Prim is screaming, Gale is pulling her away, Katniss' mother is biting her lip trying not to cry, everyone on stage is confused, and there is dead silence coming from the crowd.

"Excellent." Effie Trinket, the pink haired women said, waving her hand, beckoning Katniss up on stage. Gale whispers something to her, encouraging her to go.

Katniss climbs the stairs robotically and introduces herself, as protocol, although rusty, demands volunteers to do.

"I bet my buttons that was your sister. Don't want her to steal all the glory do we? Come on, everybody! Let's give a big round of applause to our new tribute!" Effie Trinket says enthusiastically, not realizing the how depressing the moment really is.

Instead people bring their three middle fingers to their lips then raise them to the heavens in a silent salute. I was one of the many who began this. We silently tell her: we love her, we will miss her, we do not approve of what the capital has done to her, and the very most, goodbye.

"But wait, there's more excitement to come!" Effie Trinket says a little too over the top, even for her. She's been thrown off by recent events. "It's time to choose our male tribute!"

Effie hurries over to the male bowl, as quickly as she can in her stilettos, and chooses a name.

"Peeta Mellark!" She calls out.

Oh my god. No, not now, not me. My brain screamed. There was no way, it couldn't be me. But there were people turning and staring at me, parting, creating a path to the stage for me. They all had a look of pity, but some of the boys couldn't hide their relief. I didn't blame them; I had done it as well. That sigh of relief, saying to your-self, thank god it isn't me.

I stand there stupidly, my body not wanting it to move.

"Peeta," A boy to my right jabs me with is elbow, "Peeta, it's you man."

I start to make my way up the stage. It all felt like a dream, the staring faces. I felt the tears well in my eyes and blinked them away. I would not cry, I may have my death just handed to me on a silver platter, but I would not waste my time moping.

The mayor had moved to his speech before I noticed anything had changed. I just kept staring over at Katniss, remembering that day in the cold. My mother had been furious, although burning the bread hadn't been entirely my fault. It had been my brother's, we were joking around. It was getting late and both of us were tired from the long day. He was poking fun and before I knew it, the loaves of bread we in the fire, burning.

My mother had beat me multiple times before, for smaller things. But she was extremely angry today. Ranting on about the children in the seam, always going through the garbage, stealing from her. I thought it was preposterous, the people in the seam had every right to try and salvage food, and they had barely any to begin with.

"Go! Feed them to the pigs, you idiot!" My mother had screamed as she smacked me over the head.

I saw her then, as I went out the back. She was slumped up against the buildings, totally soaked and skinny. So skinny that her wet clothes showed stuck to her hallow chest and protruding ribs. I turned to feed the kids when I heard it, an ever so quiet, "Help me." I turned back to her. She looked up into my eyes, pleading with me. I quickly checked for my mother then threw her the loaves.

Effie Trinket finishes it off with the usually, Happy Hunger Games, and may the odds be ever in your favor.

No, it won't be in my favor, not at all. I thought as I was ushered inside by the peacekeepers.