The big day has come at last. The day I might be given a death sentence. The day of the Reaping and not just any Reaping. This year marks the hundredth Hunger Games. It is the first Quarter Quell since the Districts lost the Rebellion, and the Capital has plans that will make it special for them and awful for the rest of us.

I can still hear the cold voice of President Snow II as he gave us the news. "For the fourth Quarter Quell, as a reminder of the sacrifice's and losses the Districts bring upon themselves whenever they defy the Capitol, only one name will be reaped. All siblings of the tribute whose name has been drawn will also enter the arena."
I just about passed out from fright. My mother screamed so loudly we thought for sure it would send squads of Peace Keepers to see what was going on. My sister cried her eyes out. My father turned pale.
My name is Corina Bradford. I am fifteen years old. I have a twin sister named Clair. We are from District 4. This doesn't mean what it used too. For the last twenty-five years all the Districts have been given the exact same treatment. If you live in a District you get a house, two meals a day, two sets of clothing, one set of night clothes, cold running water, and one hour a night of electricity, a fireplace, wood, and what ever else you can buy with the money you make from your job. Both of my parents are fishers. They wake up before dawn every day and sit in a boat with a big net and sometimes a trident to catch fish. They get home late at night. Clair and I work with them on Saturdays and Sundays. However we don't get paid until we turn eighteen.
Today we are both dressed in long, green gowns that my parents saved for all year. Our long, dark hair is pulled back, and our green eyes are full of fear.
"No matter what happens, we have each other," Clair reminds me.
"What if we're the last two alive?" I ask, letting my fear into my question.
"We don't kill each other," Clair says.
"Let's go," I say.
"I hate that idea, but come on," Clair says.
We don't let go of each other one time. We cling to one another as the lady pricks our fingers to sign us in, and our embrace only grows stronger as we take our places in the area that all the fifteen year olds stand in.
It's time for the worst part of today. Our escort, Tommy Smiles, takes the stage. He's this short, fat man with yellow and green hair and gold teeth.
"Welcome to the Reapings, everyone! I'm so happy to see you all here! I've missed you so much! Haven't you missed me?" Tommy asks, with a smile to match his probably fake last name.
The crowd claps halfheartedly.
"Sadly, I mean happily you aren't here to talk about me, so let's show the video!"
I half watch the video about the two uprisings, and about how all the people from District 13 were moved to re-build District 12.
"Now, let's see who our lucky tribute is!" Tommy pipes.
He reaches his hand into the big glass ball and digs around for what feels like years. Then, with a slip of paper in his hand, he turns to address the crowd.
"The tribute is… Corina Bradford!"
I don't move. I can't breathe. Time has stopped, and all I can think is that I am going to die.
"Come on. We'll go together," Clair whispers.
We take the stage.
"Tell me your names and ages!" Tommy says with a grin.
"I am Corina Bradford," I say softly.
"I am Clair Bradford, and we are fifteen years old."
"Cool! Meet Corina and Clair Bradford, tributes from District 4!"
We have been told that tributes used to have an hour to see their loved ones after the reapings, but now we have to say all last words before leaving.

"Keep these," my mother said before we left, and gave each of us a small silver ring.
"Good luck," my father tells us.
We all hold each other and cry.

I think of this as we head to the train station, which will be our last glimpse of home.
A/N: I have two announcements.
As you can tell this story is rated "T". I just want to let you know that I may have to change this rating to "M" because of gore, death, killing, self harm, and stuff like that, so be expecting that.
Also do not send me any tributes. They will not be used. However, I can use up to two mentors, two stylists, and six prep team members. If I don't get these OCS, it's fine, but know that you can send them in, and that OCS are first come first serve.
Enjoy, and tell me what you think in a review!