One thing I can tell you: you are going to be shocked. And, this is weird, which is the definition of me…

Disclaimer: I do not own this. Suze Collins, why do you have to have such good ideas for books?

The Reaping. It was today. As it was every single day of our lives. The 7th of may. Seven sins. Hunger Games! I am so exited. NOT.

This is the worst way to torture the people. I mean, I understand, we don't have to rebel, but why can't The Capitol just tell us and get it over with? The destruction of District 13 was enough.

I finally got to The Reaping Plaza in the middle of District 11. You could see all the starving kids, and especially the scared 12 year-olds that do this for the first time. I felt bad for them. I remember the first time – which I could actually remember – when I went to the Reaping. My sister got chosen, Rue. She died. And then, when Katniss, the winner, came we both started crying at the replay of her death in the plaza. Katniss seems like a nice person. But in a certain way, she is a mentor of another district, so also an enemy.

Rue would be mad if I thought of her that way. I saw it in her eyes how she was attached to Katniss. How she had so much confidence in her. I saw it, even if at the time I was 4.

Now I am 17.

And this is my 5th reaping.

I despise the Hunger Games.

They killed the sister that I loved more than any person in my family. She was so caring, and small. And pretty. And selfless.

I finally got to my section. I kept my face emotionless, because by now, I knew that being scared didn't help at all. I looked into space without really listening.

I saw a woman – in one of those stupid green flash wigs – taking a little paper in the bowl 'girls'. She read the name, two times. The name was: 'Fiji Goldfinch'.Then someone shoved me and nodding to the stage, so I figured it was me.

WHAT??

It was me?

NO!

I heard my mothers' scream of horror as I got onto the stage. I wasn't crying, but I wasn't happy either.

I despise the Hunger Games. That was all I wanted to say. Scream. Again and again until they would shoot a bullet into my head.

But I wouldn't. My family would be killed too, then.

So I heard the boys' name. His name was Loon Polling.

Loon? I heard about him before.

We shook hands, and then my face went completely pale.

Did I forget to mention?

I am eight months pregnant.

Review if you like it and if I should continue.