Prologue

When my father won the 22nd Hunger Games, he was 17 years old.

His name had been in the bowl 30 times.

Victory did not come easy. It was three grueling weeks before the shattered, starving teen who would become my dad was lifted out of that arena. Another long week before he was healed of his physical wounds. I know the emotional ones are still there. I've watched that tape hundreds of times, and each time I see him fall in love wit the pretty, quiet girl from 3. And each time I see her die in my father's arms.

It was years before he was ready to marry my mother, his long-time sweetheart Anise. I was born eleven years after his victory, when he was 28. He has done everything in his power to make sure I never have to go to the Games.

Today, for the Reaping of the 46th Hunger Games, my name is only in three times. I know that I should be safe. But I also know that Victors' children are chosen far too often for it to be random.

A/N: I know this was really short, the next one will be longer, I promise. As always, please R+R!