Disclaimer: I, unfortunately, did not have the wonderful idea of inventing the Hunger Games, therefore, I cannot take credit for the story. HOWEVER, I can take credit for most of the characters. Which is a good thing :)

So this is my first time doing a fan fiction, so please, criticism is welcome. Also, just so you know, this first chapter is so that you can get a part of Kams' life. How she thinks, and who she is. It's just so you have a general idea of what kind of person Kams is. So thanks for reading, and reviews/criticism are very welcome!

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~~~~~THIRTEEN YEARS AGO~~~~~

He placed a knife in my hand. Again. As he will continue to do so for who knows how long. But I don't get it. Why do I have to learn to throw a knife? Aren't we safe at home? I don't understand…

I've seen people throw knives. Not here, but on the box with the moving pictures. My parents call it a… tevelision, I think. But I throw the knife at what Daddy tells me to. They throw it at people. And blood comes out, and it makes me frightened and sick.

Why are they killing each other?

~~~~~ELEVEN YEARS AGO~~~~~

Understanding is a horrible thing. I don't want to know. I don't want to remember. But my parents. They're looking at me. Speaking again. Saying that I have the right to know these things, especially since I can throw a knife so well, and with both hands, and at such a young age. They say I have natural talent. But I don't want to.

~~~~~EIGHT YEARS AGO~~~~~

I am always busy now. My parents are filled with endless directions: eat healthy, but eat a lot, practice throwing your knife before school, study the plants and animals, come straight home after school so you can practice with your bow and arrow, go swimming for an hour in the lake – no breaks. They never fail to disappoint my expectations. Which basically just means they never cease to give me what they call "advice".

~~~~~SEVEN YEARS AGO~~~~~

I try to feel enthusiastic as they place the gift on the table in front of me. But I know it's going to be another weapon. The only good thing about birthdays is that I can spend most of my time doing whatever I want to do with my friends.

I once asked my parents why all of my friends have siblings, and I don't. They said that my friends' parents wanted a larger chance that their kids would be picked. They wanted glory. But my parents told me that they want to focus all their efforts on training one child.

Hooray for me.

~~~~~FIVE YEARS AGO~~~~~

It's the day of my first reaping. I'm scared. I don't want to be picked. Even my parents don't want me to be a tribute, though only because they want me to go through more training. I'm wearing a beautiful white dress Father bought for me. He tells me that we're lucky that we live in the first district. That we are happier than most of the country. That he manages the company that makes all the jewelry. That we have so much more money than a lot of other people.

The faces around me are excited, eager. I don't think I will ever share the same feeling as the rest of them. How could they be so willing to kill?

~~~~~THREE YEARS AGO~~~~~

Nobody understands me! Everybody overestimates me! My entire life, I've been lying about who I am! To everybody! To my father and to my mother! To my friends! To my teachers! Why can't they all just leave? Why can't they get out of my life? Just get out and stay out!

Why can't I just have a moment of solitude, a moment of peace, a moment where I can just close my eyes, and know that nobody will disturb me?

When my father told me that I am luckier than most of the country's populartion, I couldn't help but think that, if I'm supposed to be lucky, shouldn't I also be happy?