It's the same man as always. He has been there since I can remember, and he was the one to pick me. My name is Finnick Odair. I won the 65th hunger game, at just the age 14, one of the youngest winners ever. Today is the reaping, and I stand in the crowd wondering who I will mentor. The man stands up, after our mayor is finished with his

speech. He's wearing a Black suit, with diamonds on the sleeves and around the neck. A bright blue shirt and a pair of silver shoes. His face always has the same expression, a dark smile, filled with hatred. I hate this man. And now he holds his hand up, ready to pick the girl tribute for the 70th annual hunger game. He takes a paper, opens it slowly, and read the name out. "Annie Cresta" he says with a voice that gives me chills. A fragile girl goes up on the stage. She's wearing a white shirt with gold buttons and a light green skirt. Her feet have beautiful gold sandals on, and her brown hair, curls so perfectly down on her back. And her face is the most beautiful thing about her, perfect pink lips, a little nose and big green eyes. And right in this moment, I know she is the love of my life.