It's strange how much can change because of one tiny scrap of paper. It seems so long ago I was Rosalyn Snow, granddaughter of President Snow. I had friends, family. People in the capitol loved me. Some in the districts loved me. I had admirers, fans. I had everything anyone could ever need. I was happy.
After the war, after the death of my grandfather, after his treachery...
I had none of these things. I was scorned, humiliated, ashamed to be even related to such a monster. Everyone hated me. My closest friends. My teachers. Random people I'd never met. All lined up outside my house to throw things at it. Most of my family was dead. My sister had been killed with so many others outside my grandfather's mansion. My father was long dead. Only my mother remained. And soon I would lose her too. I'd known it would happen. Ever since they announced the 76th Hunger Games, I'd known. I'd know I would be reaped. There was no way they would lose this opportunity to publicly show that President Snow was defeated, gone, and the capitol was dismantled. But still, it caught me off guard. Seeing them pull out that slip of paper. Seeing the smile on the woman's face as she called out "Rosalyn Snow!"
"Don't look so surprised now, sweetheart." Haymitch said, chuckling a bit.
"No…" I replied "I already knew I'd be going."
"You're a smart one, you remind me of someone." Haymitch said. "Well, you're right. They weren't going to leave this one to chance. No way in hell. Doesn't have as much of an impact if it doesn't mean anything to the audience." He smelled like beer still.
"Listen, I know that my grandfather was an awful person, someone who took the lives of innocent children," I was getting a bit angry now. "But the kids going into these games did nothing!" I yelled. "Don't you see? You're doing the EXACT SAME THING THAT HE DID!"
"Well, that's the beauty of it, sweetheart. It's...symbolic." He said.
I looked at him, confused, as he stumbled out of the room chuckling.
A few minutes later Katniss Everdeen walked in. She had a look on her face that was hard to describe. Like she knew what she was doing was wrong but it was too late to turn back. Which it was. That's why there was no use fighting with them. What's done is done. Just like there's no way that I can go back and erase what happened to them. All the pain and suffering of the districts. I can't claim that I was overly upset about the games at first. They were fun entertainment, lighthearted. I didn't understand the value of human life. It was all surreal. It was, well, a game. I could hardly believe they were really dead. But then the war happened. I lost everything. Only then did I realize how many had been condemned, what we'd done to them, to their families. And we'd enjoyed it. It had been entertainment for us.
"There's another boy riding in this train with you." Katniss said, interrupting my train of thought. "You know. Symbolic of the way everyone else arrived at the games." She looked as if she wanted to say something, but she didn't.
"Please," I pleaded "Help me win. You've been in the games. You know how they are."
"I'm sorry, but in these games there is no winning. There's surviving...but that's hardly an alternative."
She turned to walk away but I caught her by surprise
"Finnick would have wanted you to help me." She stopped dead in her tracks.
"How do you know about Finnick?"
"I...well, I know he was your friend. He won the games. And I know he died, because he'd be here if he were alive. He died for you, I watched it when you dropped the nightlock thing-"
"You do not talk about Finnick. You know nothing. Nothing! You don't know anything about Finnick! You don't know him!" She walked out of the room and as she closed the door I saw tears start to drip down her face. But she was trying to hide them from me. Obviously, why would she cry in front of a little girl like me?
Despite what I told Katniss I did know Finnick. He would come to talk to my grandfather quite often. Every time he'd walk past me, smiling going in and crying when he came out. One day I invited him to see my dolls. He was funny and the only grownup who seemed to truly care about me. I started invited him to tea and we became great friends. But then he stopped coming. He stopped visiting. He wouldn't even answer the phone. I was just a child, I didn't know what was happening. I didn't know what he'd been through. I didn't understand what my grandfather had done. I missed him a lot. I missed his smile and his funny jokes about the waiters fake happiness and how he used to play dolls with me. He was the only one who would do that. He was quite handsome. I believe I had a crush on him for a portion of time, but then he started speaking of Annie. Annie Cresta. I knew her, she won the games. I asked why he talked of her so often and he said he loved her. He made me promise not to tell anyone. And I didn't tell anyone, I kept my promise, for him.
Soon I started crying. Not only was I being thrown into an arena to my death but I was also thinking about the one person who cared about me, and how he was gone. I didn't even bother trying to hide it. I curled up in a ball on the seat, letting the tears run down my cheeks. Just then, the door to the compartment opened.
"Go away!" I called, figuring it was Katniss or Haymitch.
"Well I would, but apparently we're supposed to be a team." I sat bolt upright.
"Ryder? You too?" Of course I knew Ryder. Son of Caesar Flickerman. Who didn't know him? He was funny, attractive, and really nice. Everything that made him attractive to nearly every girl our age. Of course, I'd only ever seen him as a friend. An acquaintance. But that hardly mattered now. He held out his arms, and I flew into them, my head resting on his chest.
"Oh, Ryder! It's so unfair! What've we done? It wasn't our fault! What were we supposed to have done? Why is this happening to us?" His strong arms encircled me.
"I don't know, Rosie. I don't know." He admitted. "But hey, look on the bright side."
"What bright side?" I asked, sniffing.
"You get to see me train. And I look good." I started laughing hysterically. The train was docking. We were about to go into the justice building. There were bloodthirsty people outside the windows. People of the districts, terrorized for so long. Crying for our deaths. Is this how we seemed to them? No wonder we were being ushered to our death.