I'm in a dimly lit metal room, with my stylist Genia and a cup of water violently shaking in my right hand. My good hand. My left is crippled due to a large machine in the factory that I work at. Worked at.
I realize that in a few seconds I will be in the games and in a few minutes I will probably be dead. I look around for a way to kill myself. To die with dignity, instead of as a puppet to the Capitol. If I was to smash the glass my water is in could I use a shard to stab myself? Would Genia try to stop me? If she doesn't try to stop me and I succeed she will be killed. Publicly executed, blamed for my death. I don't want that to happen. Genia didn't hurt anyone, she doesn't deserve to die. Then again, the other tributes and I didn't hurt anyone and all but one of us will die.
I take a sip of water. The Capitol's water. I almost spit it out in disgust, but I'm thirsty and this might be my last chance to drink. I'm walking in circles now. Thinking about the reaping. The chariots. The training. The interviews. My plan. For a moment I start to get second thoughts, but I quickly swallow them. I am going through with this, I have to. I have nothing to lose, no family for the Capitol to kill. I'm going to die soon I think, and it's almost a relief.
I wonder how I will die? Will another tribute kill me soon after the games start? Will a gamemaker decide that I should die? I don't really care. I won't put up a fight.
Before I know it I am being trapped in a glass cylinder. This is it. Genia gives me a thumbs up and a smile while the plate I'm standing on rises. My head rises above the ground and I'm in the arena, and I have sixty seconds.