Hey guys! I"ve been working on a series of oneshots. So far, I have this one for Cato, one for Glimmer, and one for Clove that is in the porcess of becoming a fanfiction... so, if you have any characters that you want to have their own oneshot, please PM me or tell me in your reviews!

Thanks, district12victor =D

Many people have told me "There are choices in life you make," but that is quite difficult if there isn't anything left for me to decide.

I didn't choose my ancestory.

Approximately 74 years ago, my great-grandparents were killed, during the end of the Dark Days. They were killed for being high ranking in the rebellion. They, among others, felt deeply for the end of the Capitol's horrors. Facing defeat after keading the rebel forces trough the Capitol streets, my ancestors were captured, tortured, and killed by Capitol forces.

I did not choose my father.

A man with heavy pockets full of jingling coins, he is never home. Every year he is traveling thoughout the districts and the Capitol, bidding on who he thinks will be crowned victor of the upcoming Hunger Games. For the rest of the year, he is out partying in Capitol and hanging out at bars, drunker than drunk, totally wasted.

I did not choose my mother.

About 15, years ago, my mother died. More specifically, murdered. She was an 18-year-old tribute in the 59th Annual Hunger Games. Sadly, she had been reaped just two months after I was born premature, struggling to breath. Surviving was almost against the odds. Practically almost every other tribute that year was a skilled killer. Once there were only 6 tributes remaining, Claudius Templesmith had invited them to a feast. The feast only contained a small loaf of stale bread and a bottle of water. Apon arrival of the feast, Lilac of District 9 leaped out of a tree and whipped a spear at her, signaling my mother's cannon.

I did not choose my birthplace.

While being in the arena, my mother was 7 months pregnant. She gave birth to my two months early in her hideout two moths early with the help of her ally, Silvia of District 10. Later on, Silvia had defeated the girl from 9 and went on to be crowned victor. She took the baby (me) with her to the Capitol where I was hooked up to various machines, struggling to hold on to life.

I did not choose to live in the Community Home.

After my mother's death, my father had a mental breakdown. When I was only two months old, born premature, I was taken into custody by Peacekeepers until my father could control himself. It was 11 long years of living in the District 1 Community Home before I finally left. But if did not spend 11 years there, I would never of met Shaleigh and Emma. Shaleigh and Emma were beautiful twins that were brought to the Community Home. Shaliegh had emerald eyes and long orange hair that rolled down her back in perfect spirals. Emma was almost identical, except she had bangs and her hair was pin straight. Sadly, they had lost both of their parents. I took them in at the Community Home and they are practically my children. I would protect them from everything and anything.

I did not choose to return to my father.

When I was almost 12, the Community Home was becoming overpopulated. My father had come back from his previous state and now spent his time drinking, partying, and betting on tributes. The Peacekeepers figured that he would be well enough to allow me to live with him. They even let me take Shaleigh and Emma with me. Before they closed the door to my father's home on my new children and I, the female Peacekeeper handed me a warm bundle. They closed the door shut with a bang and I could hear the boots on the concrete a they marched away.

I did not choose my baby brother.

When I returned with my children to my father's home, I had recieved a small bundle wrapped in a blue blanket. Unwrapping the bundle, I discovered Rolan, my new 8 month old baby. Although I did not choose him, I still very much love him. He is the same to me as Shaleigh and Emma are, my children.

I did not choose to be a mother.

In Shaleigh, Emma, and Rolan's eyes, I was their mother figure. I made sure they had clean clothes, tucked them into bed, gave them mother's love, achieved endless chores, worked countless jobs, and always made sure there was food on the table.

I did not choose for my family to almost starve to death.

We were close to starving. It was only our third week out of the Community Home. But we were able to hold out until April 4th. On April 4th I proufly walking into the Justice Building pulling a wagon with my 3 children happily seated in it. I filled out 4 slips wih my name on them, placed them in the reaping bowl, and brought home lots of grain and oil. I also realized that day that you had to be 12 years old to work in the factories. From that day on, we had a routine set. I would make breakfast and make sure the tins and myself were ready for school. Then before we leave, I give Rolan a bath and put him in clean clothes. I walk the twins to school while carrying Rolan in a carrier seat. Throughout the school day, Rolan sits in his carrier seat on the floor next to my desk. After school, I pick up the twins, bring them home with Rolan, and go to work in the factories until 8 p.m. After work, I make dinner and tuck the children into bed.

I did not choose to be reaped.

A few years later was the my 5th reaping that I was eligable for. Emma was no longer her talkative self and Shaleigh was fidgety and nervous around me. They were scared for me. 25 slips was a lot. Emma overheard me talking to my friend Lacey, that the girls at the Training Center decide that if I got reaped, no one would volunteer. These girls were jealous of my beauty and wanted to get rid of me. At the reaping, when I was chosen and no one stepped forward, I was not surprised.

I did not choose to say good-bye to my children.

The most painful thing I have probably ever done is say good-bye to my children. That one hour spent for a tribute to say their good-byes was spent cradling Shaleigh, Emma, and Rolan. I spoke to them one by one, tears spilling freely from my eyes, as I embraced each of them for the last time.

I did not choose to be a Career.

When the other Careers asked me to join them, it was more of a death threat. If I didn't join them I knew I would be an instant target. I had to do everything I could to win. I would literally do anything to just see them again. To hear Shaleigh's laugh, to to hear Emma's beautiful voice as she helped me sing Rolan to sleep, to see Rolan's toothy grin again, they were all just memories. I planned on doing anything to bring them back again.

I did not choose to be attacked be tracker jackers.

When those wasp-like creatures flew at us, I knew I was in grave danger. I tried to outrun them, but they were much faster than us. I hear the screams of my friends as they rush to the lake. Suddenly, I felt the world turn sideways and loose my balance. Each sting feels like te shapr prick of needle, cuasing the Earth to swing back and forth violently.

Behind my knee.

My left palm.

My right shoulder.

My neck.

Under my chin.

My left cheek.

Collasping to the ground, the trees come crashing down around me. The sky turns a vibrant shade of purple and the clouds turn to bubbles. My arms and legs flail out of control. The hallucinations from the venom are to much to handle as it courses through my blood stream. One by one, I think of Emma, Shaleigh, and Rolan. Knowing I will never see them again, I realease them, one by one, like birds in a cage. "Glimmer!" my best friend Clove shrieks. She is the last thing I hear before the world goes black.

I did not choose to sound my cannon.