This is just a random oneshot that I decided to write. Hope you like it!

By the way, The Hunger Game Unofficial Fan Forum is currently handing out Fan Fiction Awards, for a LOT of categories. So go to the site to vote! I believe you can vote even if you don't have an account, so if you want to vote, go ahead. You don't have to even vote for me, just vote!! Though, I do believe you have to vote for somebody who is a member on the site.

Thanks to everyone who's going to read this, and please review! A lot of this story is made up of flashbacks. And, just so you know, the first flashback isn't his dream, it's just a flashback, I guess.

This isn't my best piece of writing by the way. Just something I decided to scribble down, because I had the idea. I just read through it, and I was thinking, wow, this isn't very good. But oh well.

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~ ~ \/ ~ ~

I looked up as my mother entered the kitchen. She looked worried, which was odd, considering the fact that, when the rebellion ended, my mother had become constantly happy that there would be no more fighting, or death, or war.

"Raff," she said. "Do you know where your father is? I need to… discuss something with him. It's very important."

She looked deep into my eyes. I wondered what was wrong, but I tried to act normal. If it was something really bad, she would tell me. Besides, what was the worst that could happen?

"He just went upstairs," I said. I thought she heard anxiety in my voice, because she smiled reassuringly as she thanked me in a soft voice before leaving the room. Just before the kitchen door swung closed, I noticed a folded pamphlet in her hand. It was made of extremely expensive paper, the kind the Capitol used when they wanted to distribute official announcements. I wasn't able to glimpse anything on the pamphlet, though. I could only stare at the door, and hope, and pray, that nothing bad was happening.

I don't think anybody ever received my prayer. That night, my parents sat me down with my older sister, and our world was turned upside down.

~ ~ \/ ~ ~

I can faintly hear the birds chirping outside. I open my eyes and stare at the ceiling, thinking, and feeling horrified. I couldn't move, my breathing sounded quicker than usual, and I could feel that bead of sweat trickle through my hair as I struggled to gain control over my senses before̶̶̶̶̶‒

"Mr. Gardiner!" The cheerful, high voice makes me fight even harder to get out of this stupid temporary coma state my mind forces me into so often. "It's time for you to wa‒ oh, you're already awake! Good morning, Mr. Gardiner!"

This is my last chance to fight before she realizes…

"Oh, you've had that dream again, haven't you?" The voice turns pathetic and simpering. But I know she doesn't really care. All she feels is curiosity, all she wonders is what dream makes me horrified, so much, that my mind shuts down my old body, even if for only a few minutes. I feel the life starting to work its way through my body again. Slowly, I begin to move again, trying to forget my dream. Cailyn rushes forward to try to help me up.

"C'mon, Mr. Gardiner! Into the wheelchair you go!"

I force myself to be cooperative and get into the wheelchair, though I don't really need it.

"What would you like to do today, Mr. Gardiner?"

"Hey Cailyn, guess what? I don't care."

Her mouth droops down, and she looks as if I wanted to‒

"Break my heart, again and again, don't you, Mr. Gardiner?" she says. "I don't know why you're so grumpy today of all days. Tomorrow is the reaping! Today should be filled with excitement and anticipation!" Cailyn continues to drone on and on, but my ears stopped listening to the words after she said reaping.

~ ~ \/ ~ ~

The faces around me were nervous and scared. Well, why wouldn't they be? Nobody knew what to expect, nobody knew what was going to happen. I thought about how lucky I was that I was only seven, too young to be picked. That way, if I got picked another year, then at least I could prepare myself for an idea of what might happen. And then I thought about how unlucky my sister was, because she could get

I quickly banished the though. No need to jinx anything.

And then it began. The first ever reaping.

And when it was finally time to choose a tribute, Kirny, the crazy, wild-haired Capitol representative skipped up to the huge glass bowl containing all the girls' names, and reached in to take a slip of paper. The slip of paper, containing the name of the first ever District 1 tribute in The Hunger Games.

"Faye Gardiner!"

My sister.

~ ~ \/ ~ ~

"Mr. Gardiner! We're here!" Cailyn sings out. I jump, startled out of my reverie. I give a quick glance around before scowling.

"Why the hell am I here? Cailyn, you know I hate this place!" I never actually imagined myself becoming the grumpy old man when I was younger. But I just can't believe how much everything has changed.

"Oh cheer up, Mr. Gardiner! I noticed that you never seem to care about the Hunger Games, when the rest of the district is celebrating. I brought you to the park so you could watch some of the kids on their last day of training. One of them could be tomorrow's tribute! It'll help put you in the spirit, you know!"

"No!" I snap. "I don't know! Now get me out of here!"

"Mr. Gardiner, you did say that you didn't care about what you did today," says Cailyn, adopting a smug smile on her face, though it looks more as if she is contemplating an ant and wondering if she should scream for someone to kill it, or just kill it herself. I shake my head in annoyance. There is just no reasoning with these people.

I watch gloomily as Cailyn next to me cheers and jumps up and down like a little girl, in unfamiliar surroundings, who needs the bathroom, but can't seem to get her parents' attention to ask where it is. I see girls throwing spears, boys swinging maces, toddlers handling knives, teenagers practicing swordplay. And nobody seems o care that two of them may be chosen tomorrow to kill 23 other people. It's just so different from what I remember…

~ ~ \/ ~ ~

The TV suddenly flashed on and everybody turned in their seat to watch. My stomach felt sick with anxiety as I waited to see what "action-filled scene" was going on in the Hunger Games now. Before I could even think of Faye, we found out what was happening. A boy and a girl were wrestling on the ground. These tributes were from Districts 1 and 2, respectively. The girl finally managed to get a firm hold on the boy, and she began to choke him. Feebly, his hands reached to grasp hers, trying, desperately, to pull them away, but he was weakening, his face turning blue, suffocating to his death…

Suddenly the girl went flying through the air as the boy finally managed to kick her off. He quickly rolled over to a backpack and drew out a knife. Just as she was about to stand, the boy threw the knife. And it hit her. Right in the center of her forehead.

I heard a squeak from somebody in the class room, but I didn't pay attention. I could only gape at the image the TV was showing: wide open eyes, slightly ajar mouth, and a knife, a knife. I could barely move in the shock of the death. I finally shook my head and glanced around. A couple of the girls were crying. And the teacher was standing stock still, terrified of the image. The eraser that had been in her hand, lay, disregarded, on the tiled floor. The true horror of the Hunger Games had been revealed.

~ ~ \/ ~ ~

The boy had been so shocked at the sight of what he had done. Everybody had been shocked. I remember that he ended up getting killed, but I had always thought he had regretted sticking a knife into a person's head, which just meant that he had had a conscience. These kids around me, though, wouldn't hesitate to kill, wouldn't give a second thought about it. And they would feel pride and triumph, and maybe even happiness. Moral rights don't seem to be taught to these children. They are forgetting the value of life.

I see a girl, older than most around her, swinging a mace around her head before smashing it into the ground. As my eyes follow the spiked ball, a horrible memory comes to mind…

~ ~ \/ ~ ~

We were eating dinner, but the television was on, as it was always on in this household. My entire family, myself included, always wanted to know everything that was happening. If Faye was injured, or sick, or starving, we wanted to know as soon as possible. I wanted her to win, so much. Because I loved her. And she loved me.

It was about a week after the Hunger Games started. My family saw, on the screen, a hulking girl from District 5. We had ignored the television, at first, assuming that this scene had nothing to do with Faye.

Two minutes later, I had looked up at the screen. The District 5 girl had broken in to a run, and I could see that she was running towards a source of light, barely visible through the trees. The camera view changed then, showing the abandoned fire the big girl was running to, and then it zoomed, and, within site of the fire, I saw Faye. She was sprinting in the direction of the thickest trees. But she was never fast, and she had no weapon, while the pursuer moved quickly, and held a mace, deadly in those strong hands.

So, with all the luck and skill on her side, the other girl caught up easily, tackling Faye to the ground. Faye screamed and flailed, and tried to get up, but District 5 was too strong, pinning her to the ground. As she raised the mace, I could see the regret in her eyes.

"No!!"

Faye screamed the word at the same time as I did: as the mace came swinging down to her head.

"No!!" I screamed again, as I stared at the screen. "No, no, no, no, no!!" My voice had risen in volume, higher and higher. I threw the food, smashed the dishes, and overturned the table, all the while, screaming the same word. My family tried to stop me, tried to say that she was in a better place. But the tears streaming down their faces just made me yell that same word louder, over and over again…


~ ~ \/ ~ ~

"No." I mouth the word as I stare at the mace the girl had smashed into the ground, just as, so long ago, one had been smashed into my sister's skull. I feel a tear trickle down my cheek, as I remember my memory, remember my dream.

"Oh, Mr. Gardiner, isn't this so exciting?" Cailyn squeals before looking down at me. "Mr. Gardiner, you're crying! Are you in pain?"

I stare at the mace a moment more before my vision blurs with tears, and then I answer.

"Cailyn," I whisper, barely audible. "I want to go back. And yes." I feel like I'm shriveling up, like my heart is breaking into two parts. "I am in pain."

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I probably should be working on my other story, but I'm having some trouble figuring out how to begin the next chapter, and I just thought of this idea, and, well, when inspiration calls, you answer, or some other wise phrase like that.

Thanks for reading! Remember to review, or to vote on the website that I put all the way in the beginning of the story.