If you didn't read the summary, I advise that you do that before you start to read this story.

Anyway, yes, it is the Capitol Games.

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The Reaping

Seraphina (Sera) Garroway (14)

My footsteps fall lightly on the ashes of the long road as I walk towards the President's old mansion. The buildings stand tall and proud on either side of me, although their interior is burned and blackened. All around me, the smell of smoke and gas still fills the air, even though it has been days since the last fire. The streets once busy and full of people, are now empty and quiet.

I have not a clue to where my family is; for all I know, they could be dead. Burned, shot, poisoned, who knew? There was a chance they were alive, though. The rebellions didn't kill everyone - in fact, they killed less people that I would have imagined. After all those Hunger Games that we hosted, I wouldn't be surprised if they suddenly sent an atomic bomb to blow up the rest of the Capitol, so there was nothing left.

Now, each child between the ages of 12-18 had to go to the President's old mansion so 24 could be reaped to go into this year's Hunger Games. 12 girls and 12 boys would go in, just like it was for the districts all these years. Who knew what the arena would be like, maybe a copy of the Capitol? A field set on fire? Maybe there wouldn't even be a winner, maybe the rebellions would just let everyone die. I can understand why they would feel like that.

And we deserved it. The Capitol, I mean. We had hosted the Hunger Games every year to show the districts we were superior. What had we gained from it? Entertainment? Yes, we had found it fun to watch children from the districts kill each other. Looking back at it, I find it sick. How could we laugh and cheer and smile over the deaths of children? We were born to act like this - to be superior, my parents would say, the people in the districts were born to die, they would say.

No, I think, we are all born to die.

I reach the mansion without realizing it and take a look at the crowd. It surprised me how dull they all looked. No colors or fancy clothes or things that altered their appearances so they seemed inhuman. That had all been burned away with the rest of their lives. The crowd looked like a crowd of people from the districts. There was no longer any "superior" quality to us that apparently we had had before. The citizens of the Capitol looked like real people for the very first time, and, I have to admit, it was kind of nice.

I see that I am late, for Katniss and Peeta, two of the rebels, are standing on the stage and asking about the rebellion and why they decided to have this one last Hunger Games. Everyone has on ratty clothes that are torn or burned in places, and nothing is a bright color. I look down at my own clothes, a dark green jacket that is unbuttoned revealing a grey tank top; black skinny jeans and black skate shoes, all of which are burnt and smell of smoke.

My hair, which once was dyed a bright blue, has lost its color and had gone back to its natural black. My hair was still cut in choppy layers, but it hadn't been combed and was now full of tangles. My eyes, now also their natural black, had once had yellow-green contacts in them. My skin no longer had that purplish tint to it; it was merely its natural pale color. I was still short and skinny - although skinner than normal due to the lack of food. I looked like a normal person - no, a real person - for the first time in my entire life.

When I looked back up at the stage, I saw that three kids were already standing there. Three had already been reaped, two girls and one boy. I looked at their scared faces, but didn't recognize any of them. They were young, all of them, the oldest being my age, and the youngest 12. I then watched as Peeta put one of his hands in a bowl and draw out a piece of paper. His blue eyes scanned the card as he read and the he looked out at the crowd, calling out a familiar name.

"Kian Lambert!" He called, and I watched as Kian made his way to the stage, his face looking nervous and hurt. His bright yellow hair was now a light brown, but still combed forward in that way he always wore it. His red eyes were now a nice ocean-blue, but his fair skin was still the same. At my old school, he had been the only thing girls would ever talk about, so it was kind of hard not to have heard of him. He was also one of those snobby rich kids, so, as you can imagine, he didn't even know a poor girl like me, living in the worst parts of the Capitol, existed.

Katniss called the next 4 girls names, all of which were people I knew only because they had gone to my school. Peeta called 4 more boys names as well, and I knew three of them. None were my friends, but then again, I hadn't really had any friends anyway.

Katniss reached he hand into the bowl once again, and my breath caught in my throat. I quickly reminded myself that my sister was too old to be reaped, but it didn't stop me from scanning the crowd and worrying about her every time a name from the girls' bowl was drawn.

"Seraphina Garroway!" Katniss yelled, for there was no microphone.

I felt my body tense and my breath catch once again. She couldn't have just said my name, could she have? I knew there was no point in trying to imagine it wasn't happening - that would just drive me mad. Instead, I forced my legs to move in the direction of the stage. I felt many people's eyes on me, but no one snicker or made a sound of amusement. No one volunteered either, but, who would? Not just for me, but for anyone. Even if the person you loved most in the world was reaped, I don't think one of these Capitol children would volunteer for them. I don't even think I would volunteer for my sister. You may think I am a bad person for saying that, but I'm not. It's the truth. Would you have?

I reached the stage and stood next to the boy that had just been reaped. A boy named Leandro Hadamik, he was one of the boys at my school and he lived in my same neighborhood. I had probably spoken as much as four words to him in my lifetime, but it still felt almost comfortable standing next to a familiar face who wasn't one of the preppy rich kids. Almost.

The rest of the names were called, but I didn't pay much attention to it. I was too busy trying to control my breathing to pay much attention to anything. The names I did, however, pick up on were unfamiliar and, at the moment, unimportant.

Once all the names were reaped, it was time to randomly match up the girls with the boys. I hoped I would be paired up with Leandro, but my life was just too screwed up for hope or, in this case, luck. When Katniss got to my name, I looked into her grey eyes and could see the empathy hidden secretly inside of them.

"Seraphina Garroway, you will be paired up with Kian Lambert." She announced and moved on to the next girl.

Kian came to stand beside me, and he nodded a head in greeting.

"Seraphina." He mused, looking me up and down. The look in his eyes told me that he knew who I was, and that I didn't like being called that.

"It's Sera. Like Sarah." I answered dully, without a sign of emotion crossing my face. I know how to read people, and that is why I always keep a straight face - so they can't read me.

"I know," he replied in a displeased voice. Either upset with my answer or the way I said it.

We were then escorted down the street by two rebels until we got to a big yellow building at the end, about a mile down the road and facing the mansion. Next to the building was an even bigger building which I knew our chariots would be waiting for us.

We walked into the building where I knew awaited our prep team and stylist. They were the same people from the 75th Games, besides Cinna, who had been killed and replaced me a young woman named Kuu.

The opening ceremony was in a few hours, and each of us tributes were to be dressed in the most "Capitol-like" clothing as possible.

I glanced into the eyes of Kian. He was the unbreakable bad-boy, the snobby, arrogant rich kid. He was the one who everyone knew, yet he knew no one. Kian was the one who treated everyone else like they didn't matter. What I saw in his eyes was an emotion I never thought he would show, or that he even knew.

Fear.

R&R! Please tell me what you think! And no hate! The next chapter will be longer!