Prologue
The hunger games have always been a part of my life, yet I never really paid them any attention. When we weren't hosting large parties or betting on which players would win and which would die, my family and I would sit on the couch and watch the games on the T.V. Being the President's granddaughter I was protected from the reaping, as were my friends. The hunger games were almost irrelevant to my carefree life. I never understood the true horror behind the hunger games or why some people believed it was such a bad thing. I had always been told that the children in the games were evil people who needed to be taught a lesson. I never questioned this, and never doubted the stories I was told of the cruel, selfish things the people from the districts had done. I didn't quite comprehend all of the details, but I knew the important information. I knew that the districts had led an unsuccessful rebellion, and were still being punished for it. I knew that Grandfather thought it was for their own good. And I thought the hunger games would never affect me, at least not directly. And so, every year when the reaping came around, I played in the garden with my neighbor, or watched our avoxs' prepare dinner in the kitchen, or dressed my dolls in the beautiful gowns I had gotten for my birthday; oblivious to the terror that filled billions of hearts. Every night I would sit in my home and ignore the terrible images on the screen and the terrifying events the tributes faced as they fought to the death. It wasn't for me to worry about. My innocent and ignorant, child mind had more important things to think about, like what to get Sophia for her birthday. The hunger games didn't really matter to me. I knew them as a time to have parties and play with my friends long after bed time. It was a fun and joyful time. The horrible things taking place miles away from my peaceful world weren't important. It was after all, only a game.