My name is Primrose Everdeen and I am dead.

Not a good way to start a story.

I was training to be a medic in district 13, living with my mother and my sister Katniss, but Katniss had gone to the Capitol to fight for the rebels. I was there too, helping kids who had just been bombed, when the second round of explosives went off just as I saw my sister.

I died.

I'm floating now, I can see everything. I know everything that everyone is thinking, and I know that sometime I will have to leave, but not yet. Until these games are over, I will not leave this world. Katniss said that they should happen because I died, anyway.

Unlike the other seventy-five sets of the Hunger Games that have occurred, these ones are not reaped from the districts, but the children of the richer Capitol citizens. The anthem is playing right now, and I can see the chariots coming out, and I feel even guiltier that I couldn't stop Katniss from saying yes to this.

The girl in the first chariot is Virginia Snow, the President's granddaughter. With eyes like smoking ice and blonde hair flying out behind her, a long white dress with diamonds in the seams, a red rose pinned over her heart, she looks beautiful. And somehow, deadly. Next to her, is the son of the Mayor of District Eleven. He was a special request from that district, who had suffered for years under his father's harsh rule. His skin in darker than most of the Capitol kids and he appears almost pitiful in a black suit with a white tie. Neither of them are paying any attention to the audience, even though it is clear from his red-rimmed eyes that he has been crying.

I don't know the names of the next two, only that they are brother and sister, the children of some rich Capitol citizens. Halfway down the stadium she collapses in tears and she hugs her brother. They are wearing matching clothes, plain red and black.

The third chariot rolls out to a roar from the crowd. Of course. There are rumours going around that are most definitely not true but quite popular, that the explosion that killed me and the other kids was set off by Snow's military advisor. His daughter Flora and her cousin Marcus are smiling and waving to the crowd, but I know that both of them are terrified.

Then something really odd happens. The five-year old daughter of another rich Capitol citizen, accompanied by her seventeen-year old brother, are standing in the fourth carriage. Fury surges through me. A five year old? The rest of the parade dissolves and I see only this one carriage, see her brother's protection struggling even now, and I wish that I could help her. But there's nothing I can do.

The training scores, interviews. Not surprisingly, Snow's granddaughter conducts herself well in the interviews but there is a coldness about her, a willingness to kill. She is like her grandfather, like a snake, the ideal weapon being poison. The only other tribute who stands out is the mayor's son, who has a good training score as he can identify plants. At least he learnt something out there, away from the Capitol.

I feel terrible about these games, a hard thing to say since technically I can't feel anything. But these Capitol children have only seen the games as entertainment. It's not their fault; it's their parents or grandparents. Now they will understand what we saw in the districts, but they will lose twenty-three of their own in a single year to the games. I find that I can't hate them, no matter what they did to Katniss. Because I know what she is going to do to them.