I do not own The Hunger Games.


My name is Catherine Roys. I live in hell. Or shall I say, digital hell.

Allow me to explain.

The series, The Hunger Games, has been brought to life in the most horrible of ways. There were a group of snooty, rich adults that decided that they should send people into a digital reality of Suzanne Collin's, The Hunger Games.

Now, she is not to blame. In fact, she objected to this horrible idea. But she, unfortunately, was over powered.

They made a digital Panem. With the 12 districts and the Capitol. "They" are the Gamemakers. They control Digital Panem and the Hunger Games. I hate them. I believe that they should all die in the most horrible of ways.

The reason I hate them so much is because I live in Digital Panem. And they dragged my friends and my family with me.

Today is the Reaping for the Hunger Games. This is the second year. Last year our tributes both died. One was a Bloodbath, stabbed through the heart. The other had his head cut off by that year's victor. Maggie and Stanley were their names. I never really knew them, so I didn't grieve. But Maggie's mother killed herself. And the worst part: even if your child dies, you can't leave Digital Panem. You can't return to flesh and blood; just 1s and 0s. Stuck. Here.

The only way you can leave is if a tribute from your district wins the Hunger Games. I live in District Twelve, so some kids just die from hunger here. Last year's victor, Richard is his name, was from District 2. His district went back to the real, living world. Unfortunately, he had to stay. Victors can never leave.

We're all here for a reason: the Reaping of the Schools. That's the convenient way the Gamemakers got us all here.

This is how it happened:

They made a nationwide announcement that they were going to take 12 schools – 6 middle schools and 6 high schools – to fill up the Districts. The Capitol would be filled by rich people that paid enough, the Gamemakers, and the President would be the Head Gamemaker, Jonah Crimmons.

Two weeks later, we sat in Paul Revere Middle School's auditorium, watching the big screen, waiting to see who would be reaped. We all knew that in less than an hour, the student body, and their families, of twelve schools in the U.S. would vanish.

Crimmons took chose 6 high schools first. Then he chose the middle schools.

"Beck Middle School in New Jersey."

Gone.

"Sacajawea Middle School in Montana."

Poof.

"West Millbrook Middle School in North Carolina."

Vanished.

"Douglas Middle School in South Dakota."

Missing.

We held our breaths, hoping we wouldn't be chosen.

We were not very lucky.

"Paul Revere Middle School in California." Then, within the next two seconds, we felt the cells in are body being torn apart, turning into 1s and 0s. We were being ripped through reality. Taken from earth to hell. Just like that.

These are the rules:

The families of the children that are reaped in the Reaping of the Schools must go with them to Digital Panem.

If your child dies, no matter the cause, you cannot return to Reality unless a tribute from your district wins the Hunger Games.

Even if you pass the eligible age to compete in the Hunger Games, you and your family cannot leave.

Victors can never leave Digital Panem.

Victors can decide if their families stay with them in Digital Panem.

There are no tesserae. If you starve, you die.

If you have children, they live in Digital Panem too. Just because you're pregnant, doesn't mean you can have decent health for your baby.

Babies borne in Digital Panem cannot ever live in Reality. Flesh and blood can turn into 1s and 0s, but 1s and 0s cannot turn into flesh and blood.

Siblings of the children reaped in the Reaping of the Schools that are eligible for the Hunger Games are entered in the Reapings for the Hunger Games

Boys are reaped for the Hunger Games first.

Only three groups of visitors are allowed to see the tributes.

A tribute cannot see the tributes from the other districts.

Today, I am fourteen, a would-be eighth grader. I stand before the Justice Building in District Twelve, waiting for this dreadful Reaping to be over. The likeliness of me being chosen is slim. I'm three pieces of paper in thousands. Surely I'll be fine. My sister, who is nine, isn't even in the Reapings. I don't have to worry about her turning into Primrose Everdeen.

Our district escort, Marie Albert, walks onto the stage. She sits in a chair set up for her next to the principal and the deans from my school. My principal, Mrs. Phillips, walks to the microphone and says a few words. Everybody has a grim expression on his or her face, except Marie. She's smiling like it's going out of style. She wouldn't care if we all died. All she wants is pink hair and blue jewels imbedded in her skin, and lucky for her, she has that.

Mrs. Phillips goes and sits down, and Marie takes her place.

"Hello everybody! Isn't this a wonderful day for the Reaping?" Marie says. No one answers her verbally, but everyone's face says, "No. No it is not."

"Well, no point in wasting time." She walks over to the glass ball with the boys' names in it. She reaches into the glass ball and pulls out a slip. "Mark Cronnis."

I swallow a scream. No, not Mark. Mark has been one of my best friends since I was nine. He can't die. I can't watch him die.

He walks onto the stage. His dark hair and tan skin glistens under the sun. Marie asks for volunteers. No one volunteers. A stray tear escapes my eye, but I wipe it away before it can pass my lips.

"Now for the ladies!" says Marie. She walks to the girls' glass ball and sticks her hand in, her manicured fingers prying for another victim. She pulls out the slip. "Jessica Matthews." I let out a sigh of relief. I don't have to die this year.

Then the name registers in my mind. Jessica Matthews. My very best friend.

I look to my left to find Jessica staring back at me with a look of total shock and horror. She starts to make her way towards the stage and all I can think is Do not volunteer. You will die. Do not be a Katniss Everdeen. But when I see her standing on the stage, with her little figure that is sure to get her killed, I can't help myself. Marie asks for a volunteer and I raise my hand. Jessica's eyes go wide when she sees my arm in the air. I start walking towards the stage, keeping my eye contact with Jessica. We brush shoulders while I climb the stairs and she bursts into tears. Some Peacekeepers pick her up, but once she realizes she's six feet off the ground she starts kicking and screaming. As punishment the Peacekeepers drop her on the ground. Everyone is in such shock that no one is speaking, and that is why we can all hear the distinct crack of her bone. Another tear runs down my face, this one for the fact that I will never know which bone broke. Once I stand on the stage, I look to Marie. The look on her face shows that she has no care for what just happened, she's just thrilled that there is a volunteer tribute. What a joy.

"What is your name?" she asks me. I think about lying, but know it will do me no good. The Gamemakers have everyone in Digital Panem registered, if I lie, they'll shoot me where I stand.

"Catherine Roys." Yes, Catherine Roys, that's me. Blonde hair, green eyes, fair skin. That is I. But I wish it wasn't.

Mark and I shake hands and Marie says the signature: "May the odds be ever in your favor."

And just like that, I'm Katniss Everdeen.