People don't understand how hard it is being in the Hunger Games. They just imagine it as the scariest thing that could happen to you. But, no. It's scary, sure, but that's not it.
It's also not the fact that your most likely going to die. It's not that others are going to have to die before you. It's not that fact that you have to kill to get home. It's not even the fact that there are people cruel enough to punish innocent children!
No, it's none of that. It's the fact that everything you learned was a lie. Everything you were told, that the Capitol was forgiving, that you were not going to be picked, it's all a lie. It's the fact that the arena, even, is a lie. It's not real. But nothing is real in Panem.
And right now, there's Prosper, right on top of me, knife in hand. She's from District 1, the district of luxury.
"Thought you could win, did you," She asks, throwing her knife in the air, and perfectly catching it. "Well, too bad. You can't steal my glory. Because, guess what, I'm going to kill you."
I try to wriggle free, although she just pins me down harder. She flicks her golden hair, but is soon back to giving me a death speech. "Well, there's no escaping me."
That's when it hits me. There's no escaping the Capitol, Panem, or death. If there's not escaping, then why don't I just die? It's not like the victors escape their terrible experience, either. I've heard that they have nightmares, and replay the memories of killing somebody in their head over and over again. I don't want that.
All the sudden, I feel a sharp pain in my shoulder. Then I realize that Prosper doesn't have her knife in her hand anymore.
"Bye, Six," She finishes, and stabs me in the heart.
While the world's colors mix, I think one last thought: Happy endings are a lie.