I Didn't Volunteer.

I remember that day like it was my last. It was her last.

Her last real day. We walked like soldiers to the reaping grounds. My sister Prim and I. The white faced woman said "Before I choose the tributes I've a film to show!"

On the giant screen, in front of the ten score children there were pictures of wars. Of scenes where children killed children with rocks, and spears. Pictures of the pedestal. The one where only first place stood . The pedestal that was also a headstone. Then, when it was over, the white faced woman said "I will now choose the tributes! Ladies first!" She threw her hand around the bowl that had my name and my sister's name in it. It was shining in the afternoon sun. She pulled out a slip of paper that was folded in half and bound by a black censor bar, which she casually broke. The next time she opened her mouth , my world was destroyed. "Primrose Everdeen!" My sister, small, and fragile Began her walk to the stage. I looked at my friend from Childhood – his wavy black hair and furrowed brow also shining in the sunlight that looked like the devils fluorescent now. Four words caught in my throat I volunteer as tribute! Who would do that anyways? Volunteer for their death and throw away any chance they have at living? It made no sense. The boy chosen from my district was the son of a baker. Peeta was his name, I think.

I watched over the course of the next two weeks; My sister made friends with a girl from district eleven while she was training. Her name was Rue, and she taught my sister how to climb. The other boys and girls looked at her like she was meat that they could feed on. Like game from the woods caught in the sights of my bow, or in Gales snares. One blonde boy that wasn't the one from my district stared at her in interest. Like some festering cog was turning in his mind. It was at that moment that The four words that caught in my throat were replaced by three words running around my head. I should've volunteered.

Then the games began. My sister didn't run for the cornucopia, like a good girl. She ran into the woods with her new friend that wouldn't last long.

Neither did she.

Not twenty minutes in, She was caught by a pack of boys and girls too predatorial to be humans. The girl from district eleven was thrown into the fire she and my sister had built. The blonde boy spoke up. Cato, was his name, I think. "I'll take care of this one myself." He took Prim by the collar deeper into the woods. And that was when it began.

He pulled out a knife. And started with her left index finger. He sawed them off, one by one. Slowly. She screamed until she was hoarse, and her blonde hair grew matted with sweat. Then he cut deep into her face, removing an eye, and finally; Cato the boy that made me hate district two forever slit my sisters throat.

And all the while, only three words ran through my head. Over. And over.

And over.

I didn't volunteer.