Today's reaping day.

I've turned in more than 10 tessaraes this year. I try to run away from this but I know I can't. I know there's no going back if you land in the arena. I'm not trying to survive. I'm helping my father survive. My mother left us two years ago for a richer man. Now my father have half of the wealth he used to have.

Everyday, we're hungry. My father barely has enough fish to catch and sell, not a bit to eat. If I leave him and he leaves me, we know what's going to happen.

I try to not think about it as I slip on the occasional dress I wear every year to the reaping. I tie my black , shoulder length hair in a low ponytail. I slip on the old, blue hair clip I wear everyday. I look in the tiny mirror. My father calls me from the main room. It's time. I leave the bathroom, meet my father at the front door, and left the house.

The Peacekeepers lead us to the Justice Building for the reaping. It's also where I sign up for tessarae.

A lady in a peacekeeper suit takes fingerprints at a table. I reach my hand out for her to take the blood from my finger. It stings.

There's the lady that reaps the tributes, on the steps of the building. I've never really known her name, even after all these years. She dresses differently every year. A different color. Blue, today. She shows us the video from the Capitol we watch every reaping.

" Welcome ladies and gentlemen to the reaping of the 68th annual Hunger Games. And as usual, ladies first." She reaches into a circular tank full of folded paper that each contains a name. She shifts her hand to the left and picks one at the bottom. She unfolds the tiny sheet.