The peacekeepers pluck me off of the street, along with all the other children they can see. Some protest, but I know it useless to resist. Whatever they are doing, they will do it, no matter if we put up a struggle or not. And perhaps it is for a good cause.
They take me to the square in front of the president's mansion, where they have set up a blockade, or something of the sort. Inside it are children, from toddlers to teenagers. Why hold us here? Their intentions are not immediately clear to me.
I am put in the blockade with the other children. I find my cousin, and we talk nervously among ourselves. We decide that it must be a deterrent to the rebels. They will not shoot through the children to get to the president, surely not. And while I am relieved that our beloved president is safe, I do not want to be in the path of bullets.
The square is in a frenzy. What is this talk of rebels here, here in the Capitol? Past the defenses? Surely they wouldn't have been able to get past the pods. But it seems they have. The peacekeepers are in action.
I hear shots, a sound I have not heard before. I duck behind the others, and hope they will not fire at us. Why, rebels, why must you disturb the peace of Panem?
I hear gasps from the other children, and follow their gazes into the sky.
Hovercrafts.
There are cries of delight as packets are dropped into our mass. We all know what they contain. Food, toys, presents of all kinds. It is raining presents. They are reassuring us, it seems, telling us there is no problem, not one in the world. Until recently, this was true. And while this tactic may work on some of the younger children, it will not work on me.
I know the rebels are here, destroying the country. They are terrorists. Nothing can change that, or convince me otherwise.
But now, things are getting better. We have food, entertainment, toys. We are all right for the time being.
And then, suddenly, the package in my hands bursts open. I hear a sound greater than anything I've heard before as the package explodes, along with many others. I fly backwards, knocking my cousin to the ground. Bits of shrapnel lodge in my chest. I cannot hear a thing.
People in white uniforms come in, holding medical kits. A lady leans over me, holding something out. My cousin is unharmed; he stands above me, terrified. The lady picks a shard out of my chest, and reaches for another.
It was the parachutes, the presents, I think. Yes, yes, it was...
I'm barely conscious, but I'm still alive.
At least, until the next explosion.
The remaining parachutes go off. My cousin collapses, along with the lady. A chunk of brick flies toward me. That's the last thing I remember.