I was 16 when I was reaped as the female tribute for the 65th Hunger Games. I can't say I was particularly worried. It was a well-known fact that Career tributes were born and bred to win. A classic-beauty, I was gifted with a perfect figure, long blonde hair, bright green eyes, and most importantly, a thirst for blood. Nobody dared to volunteer once I was reaped. They hadn't exactly got a chance to, before I was striding up to the front of the Justice Building, a winning smile etched upon my face. I had flashed Gloss a knowing smile, as he cheered the loudest. The male tribute looked a little pale as he stared at me. The reapings were rumoured to have been rigged, so heaven knows how this little mite had slipped through the loop hole. Alec was scrawny, had a shock of black hair that was tied with a small plait at the back, and the kind of deep eyes that drew you to him. It wasn't like he was attractive; he was like a black hole, with extra suction powers. Obviously, he was an easy kill, and I think my victim total totted up to around 9 of the other tributes. The rest of the career pack managed about 5. I think the Capital were surprised that the beautiful girl from District 1 was a lethal killer, but I could practically hear the screams of joy as I slit the necks of both the District 2 tributes. Heaven knows how my mentor managed to smuggle two sleeping pills into the lining of my attire. When I arrived back in District 1, I was expecting to be adored and to be able to bask in all my glory. But the Capital had other ideas. I had hardly enough time to even prep Gloss on how to win the next games of which he would surely volunteer and win, when I had a knock on the door and some man was there to escort me to the Capital. Apparently selling my body would be my one true fate. My days of escorting was numbered though, as there was no real buzz to be gained from pleasuring a man then not being able to cut a limb off for the pleasure of my company. After accidentally scratching a little too hard on some weak little Capital man, in which he had to be escorted to hospital for blood loss, I was shipped back to District 1 and made to be a mentor. It annoyed me greatly that there seemed to not be any terribly amazing stand-out tributes from District 1. The stupid little girls kept seducing their opponents a little too much, so that the made them themselves a victim. There were many cases where I wanted to teach them a lesson on the difference between a manipulating harlot and a bimbo. The year before It happened, a beautiful rosy-cheeked girl was sent into the arena. Glimmer reminded me of myself greatly, and not only on looks. I could tell she was a manipulator, but she seemed a little weak. She didn't have that bloodthirsty look in her sparkling green eyes. I tried to teach her, to train her mindset that everybody around her was an enemy, that being someone who trusts others makes you weak. When she fell for that huge District 2 boy, I knew that she had lost already. Love has no part in victory. Unless you love yourself – that's important. So when she got killed by those horrible tracker jackers, all I could do was look away, embarrassed. Everyone thought she reminded them of me, but then she was lying, ugly, stung and defeated. There was no place in my heart for the repulsive. I stopped watching when Marvel was killed. By a girl, no less! First a wasp, then a girl. How terribly embarrassing. But of course, in the end, above all, I had to show pride. Pride for my district, pride for my brother, and pride for the fact that I was a victor. Honestly, I was all set for becoming a mentor in one of the academy's, like one I had grown up in, set for an enviable lifestyle, with a confirmation of a beautiful family and a beautiful husband. Until the 75th Hunger Games.