Katniss POV

The day of the reaping had arrived. The 75th hunger games were upon us. The 3rd quarter quell, as predicted, the quarter quells would get worse and worse as they continued. This condition seemed to be curler and more vindictive than ever before.

Four from each district to be reaped as in the last quell however only two names would be reaped one male one female. Then the unfortunate two would have to choose a family member with in the age range of 12-18 to accompany them into the arena. Thus far this is all we have been told; can there be two victors again? We don't know. So as I get Prim ready for the reaping, I am careful not to dwell on the fact her name is still only entered once after my dooming reassurance last year. Instead we talk about her goat, Lady and how her cheese and milk has improved due to our and her living arrangements has improved since moving to the victors' village.

I leave Prim and my mother early to go meet Haymitch and Peeta before we have to greet Effie. This is it, my life for the foreseeable future, annually standing by with my male counterparts watching children ripped from loving arms, to help mould them into killers so the best possible outcome for them is to be a victor.

What a joke! A victor, if ever a word was misused it was now. I don't feel victorious. I feel more of a prisoner now than ever before. Sure before I was caged into District 12, half-starved and used as the Capitol see fit but I had more free will than now. Now I am restricted to this life every year on the Capitol train with this year's unfortunate hopefuls. Even my non-existent love life was out of my control. As Haymitch, so colourfully informed me "we are never getting off this train." Also apparently the only thing that will keep Peeta and I from being sold to the highest bidder, thus been the fate of former good-looking victors when arriving in the capitol, was our romance together.

No one would dare to intrude on true love. The capitol was as in love with our relationship not necessarily us. So my life would be linked to Peeta, true love or faux love. Except maybe we weren't on the same page to the faux bit. I also had to drop everything each time the capitol called me to an event, like a show pony, I would smile, wave and make loving eyes at Peeta all night long. The advantage of these trips however was undisturbed sleep. As we discovered on our victory tour Peeta and I suffered nightmares, however when we slept together we actually slept rather than waking screaming. Seams a simple solution right? Not to my mother, who would rather I wake up screaming than let Peeta stay in my room.

At least my mother's ruling stopped me having to explain Peeta's presence to Gale. Not that I'm romantically involved with Gale either but again I'm not sure he sees it that way. Only yesterday we were at our hunting spot and for the first time since the event itself Gale brought up our kiss. He had shocked me with it before the victory tour, before I had to play "in love" for the screens with Peeta. Now before I was to depart once more he wanted to talk about it. "Next week I'm working full time in the mines" he started innocently enough. "My Mother says its time I'm assigned my own house."

"Yeah" I comment only half listening not sure where he was going with this.

"Working long days, evenings too. It will be hard to keep a house by myself. My Mother says its time I think about getting married." As he finished I see an expectant look in his eyes and I realise he means me, he wants to marry me. I have avoided having the "tied to Peeta for life" talk with him but that is because I never thought he was going to propose! I suddenly realised it was my turn to talk.

"Yeah, lots of girls would be lucky to have you" oh god it would be easier if I just shot him. I mean my bow is right beside me. Anything would be better than this pained look on his face.

"You'd be lucky too Catnip? Right?" not the nickname; I'm a sucker for the nickname.

"Yes, but I can't be the lucky one?" I feel sick, I can't even look up. I can just picture the look on his face.

"But I thought you knew my plan? Hadn't I made myself clear? When I kissed you, you kissed me too." I feel guilty immediately. I had kissed him, he needed me too. In truth I had never kissed anyone because I wanted to. Sure, I wanted to get a silver parachute, I wanted not to be sold for my body and yes I wanted Gale to feel better then and now. I leaned over to him placed my body closely to his, I only intended to hug him but when our eyes met I had to close mine to stop myself from seeing the hurt in his.

So I was going to give him a tiny peck, between friends. It started that way. Then his arms where surrounding my body pulling me yet even closer. I found my hands on his face, in his hair. Slowly his tongue parted my lips and entered my mouth. Even in my limited experience I knew this was passionate. His hands made patterns on my back and I felt a thrust at my hips. Was that me or him? I couldn't tell but if felt good more than good. Eventually we broke apart, a mutual need for air. With our foreheads still leaning together and us both breathing heavy I could still feel the electric running through my body.

"I can't, not now, maybe once we would have married but now it's impossible." I stood and left. Leaving him stunned still sitting there in silence.

Now I was sitting with the other two men in my life at the train station. Effie was on time as always and was quite impressed Peeta and I had Haymitch, if not exactly sober, close enough. A nice change for her from former years of having to first find him and then sober him up. So I am sure she really was genuine in her happiness on this most awful of days.

The stage had been set up the same way as long as I can remember. It was eerie how identical it all was. I took a deep breath and remembered my name was not in the bowl. Prim's was and as a result I could be back in the games. The men and I sat at the back on very uncomfortable chairs. Effie took to centre stage with the usual "blah blah blah, odds forever in your favour, blah blah blah." Now the names, girls first. My stomach turns; I can taste the bile in my mouth.

"Rebecca Reid"

Effie's voice penetrates my panic. I can breathe, Prim is safe. I am not going into the arena. Then reality hits me as a frail dark haired girl, 14 years old max approaches the stage. Is she always this pale or was it the shock, her expression was frozen in fear.

Effie took her hand and raised it as if she won a prize not a death sentence. I stand to volunteer for her better my life that was already in a shambles than her still uninfected ruined. That's when both men one conveniently sitting either side of me pulls me back down. I wiggle and fight them when Peeta's voice stops my anger before it takes over me completely. "Are you willing to choose Prim to go with you into the arena?" he was right, the family member. Poor Rebecca was going to have to choose a family member to enter the arena too. Turns out Rebecca has a twin. As Effie was trying to pry a name from the stunned girl a similarly malnourished dark haired boy left the crowd and ascended the stage. He hugged poor Rebecca as he sealed his fate in the games.

"Reese" is all he said in answer to Effie numerous questions. This is awful how can I even help these doomed children. When again Effie reminded us it's not over. "and now the boys" I hold tight to Peeta's hand knowing he still has a brother in the bowl and he too could be re-entered into the arena. "Mika Pasters" Effie questions the male crowd. A dark boy both tall and broad removes himself from the crowd. I find myself thinking at least he would have a chance not like the sickly thin twins. He stands head held high and confident and in some way reminding me of the careers from District 1 and 2. Before he even says the name of his sentenced family member an equally impressive figure parts the masses and proceeds to the platform.

"Jiles Pasters" a husky more man like than boys' voice should be echoes from Mika. Still holding tight to Peeta I look from right to left at what I have come to think of as the men in my family. A matching sombre looks dawns all three of our faces. These are the children we have to help die.