Aster POV

I awoke to the sound of rain pounding the roof and thunder booming across the sky. Lightning flashed outside, casting eerie glows across my room. The weather was always stormy or overcast in District 5. The Capitol says it's just the way the weather is. I know it's because of the amount of chemicals we dump into the air daily.

Somewhere in the distance an alarm goes off. I run to the window, searching for the noise and the red lights. Lightning has hit one of the storage tanks. More radiation will no doubt be leaking into the ground around my building. So many have been affected by that radiation, we have some people who look more like animals than people. Others, like myself, had other effects from the radioactive waste.

I walk over to my dresser and pull out a long silver knife. The handle is wrapped in dark blue leather, fitting perfectly into my hand. I throw it at one of the many dents in the wall. I do this for a few hours, hitting the same mark over and over again. Finally, the knife created a small hole in the wall. Hundreds of these holes covered the wall from when my sister and I practiced without our parents knowing. All that was left of the three of them was this house and the empty bed beside me.

The rebellion failed. Many were killed, but some were allowed to live. Some, like the Victors, were forced to live in the Capitol as mentors for the future Hunger Games. My family wasn't so lucky. They were the main leaders of the rebellion in District 5. President Snow himself ordered that one person from each family involved in the rebellion was to watch their loved ones die. It was one day in April, the one sunny day we've ever had in District 5, when their blood covered the main square.

Sunlight peeks through my window. The rain has stopped. It seems fitting that today would be sunny: the reaping was today.

I wasn't particularly worried about myself. Being a test subject at the labs, I was fed regularly and given a monthly salary to buy anything I needed. I was more worried about Ian. Every year, the labs make one person take tessera for every other subject they have. This year, they chose Ian. He had to have at least a hundred entries this year, while I only had around seven. I had offered to take my own tessera, but Ian wouldn't let me.

Searching through my dresser, I found some black pants and a silky blue-grey shirt that matched my eyes. Black knee high boots were pulled on over my pants as I rushed to put my wispy blonde curls in their place. By the time I looked presentable it was 9:30. I cursed and hurried out the door.

I jogged through the cobblestone streets, the buildings blurring into the mass of dull grey that they really were. The square and the surrounding streets were already crowded. I had to push my way to the roped off area for the teenagers in my district. Ian was waiting for me at the sign in area, a small box in his hand. I snuck up behind him and tapped his shoulder. Ian turned around and smiled, the sunlight playing with his bright blue eyes. His ash blonde hair turned golden in the sun, much like how mine turned to silver.

"Happy Birthday Aster," he said, pulling me into a hug.

I tried to smile, but my birthday was never a celebrated event in my family. It always fell on the day of the reaping.

He placed the box in my hands and looked at me expectantly. I lifted the lid very slowly, just to torment him, and peeked inside. There, lying at the bottom of the box, was a necklace. A teardrop stone hung from a thin strip of brown suede. When I lifted it up to the sun, gold flecks flashed within the midnight blue stone.

"It's beautiful!"

"Here, let me put it on you."

I gave him the necklace and turned around. He brushed my hair to the side and his fingers lightly grazed my neck. Goosebumps rose on my skin and a small shiver went down my spine. I heard the faint click of the clasp and spun around to face Ian. I wrapped my arms around his shoulders and suddenly remembered where we were. I held him a little tighter, realizing this might be the last time I see him alive. Tears welled up in my eyes. He pulled away to look at me, pushing a stray curl out of my eyes. I leaned into his hand when he brushed away a tear with his thumb.

Our eyes met. I could see the worry in them. Ian turned to leave, but I pulled him back. We were close now, mere inches separating us . As if we both knew what the other wanted, we tilted our heads and our lips met.

It was like fire, but it didn't burn. Ian's lips were soft against mine, but I could feel all the fear in him making him desperate. His hand moved to the back of my neck, and mine rose to knot in his hair. I had no idea how long we were there for. Minutes? Hours? All I knew is that I never wanted it to end.

Unfortunately, someone coughed behind us. A Peacekeeper stood there, one of the nicer ones, and tried to usher us to our seats. Quite a few people were staring. Our faces were a bright shade of pink. Ian quickly hugged me again and kissed me lightly on the forehead before joining a crowd of seventeen year old boys. I floated over to the girl's section in a daze. I didn't even notice our escort was speaking until she called out "Ladies first!" in a shrill voice.

She stuck her hand into the bowl of slips like a snake, quickly picking the first slip she got her hands on. She read the name to herself first, probably trying to pronounce it so she didn't get it wrong.

"Aster Fallon!"

I froze where I was. I couldn't move, I couldn't even think.

"No," I whispered.

I strode up to the stage stiffly, trying not to look at Ian's distraught face as I passed him. I almost tripped up the stairs, but I caught myself before I could fall. Taking my place on the stage, I could see all of District 5's population.

"Any volunteers? Any at all?"

No, of course there wouldn't be any. Tribute is another word for death in most districts.

"Congratulations to Aster Fallon! Tribute of District 5!"

The escort moved to the other bowl and picked the slip the same way she did for the girls. The bowl didn't look that full: there weren't many boys in our district. At least half of those had to be Ian's, and I already knew his name was going to be called before I heard it with my own ears.

"Ian Evans!"

"No!"

This time it came out as a mix between a croak and a hoarse whisper. It carried to Ian, who looked up, his face covered with despair. I could feel my eyes watering and my hand reaching out to him, but I stayed where I was. I was beginning to shake like a leaf, and I was drenched in a cold sweat. My knees started to wobble. Ian started running towards the stage, taking the steps three at a time. The last thing I heard was him calling my name before the world faded to black.