I lay there staring up at the sky lost by the image of the countless stars, so bright and carefree. I focus on each one trying to fight the gnawing temptation eating away at my insides.

Just one drink will help me sleep better. Just one wouldn't hurt right? How many times have I said that to myself? Just one simple drink leads to an entire bottle at least by that point I can't think anymore.

Nothing matters at the point. Just the warmth of the liquor burning down my throat. I pull myself off the ground and start to walk home. I need to keep my promise to Harper. But one drink she would never know. I make a quick detour on my way home and buy a bottle of rum.

I now sit in the middle of my kitchen the bottle placed in front of me. I roll the cap in my fingers having a mental war with myself.

Just one sip how much could it hurt? One sip could push me over the edge send me to the oblivion where I won't ever open my eyes again.

I shakily pick up the bottle and bring it closer to my lips. Why do I need this to feel good about myself? I shouldn't need it when I have Harper.

But it's a sickness an addiction every part of me aches for the soothing taste of this rum I hold cautiously in my hands.

I bring the bottle to my lips and one sip is all it takes. I don't even grimace at the strength anymore it has become a familiar sensation.

I hold the bottle in front of me and look at it angrily. "What have you done to me!" I scream at seemingly nothing as I throw the bottle against the wall. Shards of glass and spilt rum scatter all over the floor. I lean against the counter and pull my knees to my chest. "What have I done to myself?"

I pull myself from the floor nothing matters anymore. I slam the door of my room shut behind me the impact shaking the entire house.

I grab the chair from my desk and shove it under the door handle. That way nobody can get to me.

I kneel down at the side of the bed and search for what seems like hours, but in reality is only a few simple seconds. And then I feel my hand on the cool glass bottle. I take the vodka and sit cross legged on my bed.

I dangle the bottle in front of face focusing on the one thing that has remained constant in my life. I never have to be afraid of alcohol hurting me. I only have to be afraid of it ending me.

In an instant the bottle is at my lips and the burning liquid rushes down my throat. My mind blurs slightly and all I can hear is the deafening sound of the clock ticking. The noise is enough to drive me insane.

Without thinking the bottle is at my lips again half of its contents already in my system. I don't stop until the bottle is empty and I collapse backwards onto my bed covering my ears. The horrid sound of the clock continues to echo through the room my brain threatening to spilt.

Everything feels wrong nothing is right. The bottle drops from my hand crashing to the floor my eyes are slowly closing. "My old friends are you finally taking my life?"

I need to open my eyes, but I can't. They feel heavy and against all my will remain closed.

What I have just done is selfish. I feel Harper clinging onto me desperately asking me to wake up, but I don't. I can hear the soft cries of Sapphire, but she sounds so distant unreachable.

I have always said one drink couldn't hurt and where has that landed me? Lying in my bed clutching onto the fragile thread that is my life.

Do I want to die right now? Maybe I do. End the pain that is always toying at my heart.

The betrayal I feel for being with Harper when I had Sapphire. I loved her I still do maybe I deserve this. To be laying here about to leave this world.

But is it my time? That really is a question I can't answer. I need to wake up, but there's that selfish part of me telling me to stop fighting and just accept what I have brought upon myself.

This isn't the first time I have tried this, so what would make this the last time?

I open my eyes and keep them open refusing to let go of this precious thing called life.

Does it really matter now that I refused to let go as my name is being called out for the reapings.

"The male tribute for District 1 for the 45th Annual Hunger Games is Dane Naylor!"

I walk up to the stage and stand next to my District partner Avery Valentine I don't even bother shaking her hand.

I refused to let go and death is still what will await me.

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