No one will ever remember me, no matter how breathtakingly beautiful I am, no matter how many people I kill with stunning finesse. Although I can almost hear Panem drawing in breaths of awe as I cleanly slice a thirteen-year-old boy's throat.
I'm nothing special. Just another rich, statuesque blonde girl from the district of luxuries. People tell me I'm amazing, adept. Really, though, I'm like every other girl from my regal district. I'm a Career, I'm very talented, my mansion is opulent, and my family pampers me. Yet I never stuck out until I volunteered for the Games. Sure, everyone loved me in my light, transparent dress. But next year, when yet another shining tribute comes, no one will remember me. There are so many victors from my district that nobody bothers to remember their names.
Besides, I'm not a ruthless killing machine like Cato. Cleverness isn't my expertise like it is Clove's. My aim isn't perfect like Katniss's. I'm dull and chaste. Brutal murder isn't one of my deepest desires. I prefer quick, simple deaths. I don't put my victim in any drawn-out pain.
Here I am, dying, drowning in hallucinations. I know I'll be quickly forgotten. Most likely, I'm completely unrecognizable. When the hovercraft comes to take my body home – no, not home; District 1 isn't my home – there will be a simple funeral and everyone will shove me to the back of their mind. Glimmer Frasia, the girl who volunteered for District 1 to compete in the 74th Hunger Games, will be a faint memory, another glowing smile from the past. My mother will continue to favor my sister. That's fine, though; she deserves the attention more than I ever would have.
A placated smile plays on my lips. Although I'm slipping into death, closer with every second, I'm satisfied. My family will move on. My sister will become the victor she was born to be. And when she steps onto that stage, flashing that beautiful, glowing smile, maybe just one person will think of me. Then she'll win the Games. I'm sure she will. But this year is Katniss and Peeta's. Somehow, in my diminishing mind, I know they'll make it out together.
Letting out a soft sigh, I allow the darkness to close in around me. As I hear my cannon fire, I see an angel fluttering towards me, perhaps to take me away. I laugh lightly as Katniss Everdeen, Girl on Fire, tugs the bow from my fingers. If she heard it, she gives no sign. Even in death, though, I'm perfectly satisfied.