Okay people, hard to explain, but Italics and Normal are to different people. You'll find out later who.
I imagined myself as a spiral.
I was beautiful, wavy hair that Mama would bunch up. Into a spiral bun at the nape of my neck.
I was beautiful, muddy brown eyes hiding secrets as they spiraled towards the dark of the center of my eye.
I was beautiful, and right on my left ankle was a birthmark. A spiral.
I was beautiful, I was 17, I had plans to grow up, and help with the harvest, and maybe one day marry that boy who sat 3 desks to my right in school.
I was important in my District. Not the mayor's daughter, but still quite high up.
I was beautiful, and nothing would change that.
Nothing but the Hunger Games.
I knew I wasn't safe as some of the others, being only twelve and taking the terrease to feed all of my younger siblings. But I expected to be okay, and return the next day to reap the harvest after reaping.
Why, why would anyone expect to be in the Games?
It was always a shock to be reaped.
It was always a shock to watch their faces.
To see my face, later on in the recap.
Tee hee.