I woke up to the sound of my cat, clawing at the cupboard that held it's precious food as a hostage. I don't even remember how he came to be a part of the family. "It hardly matters now." I think, as I walk out onto the cobblestone street that runs in front of our house, tugging my clothes on as I go.

Tomorrow is Reaping Day, but that hardly means that I am going to stop my early morning training sessions at the gym. There is only ever one other person who shows up in the morning, so it's the best time for me to train, and think. It's dangerous for me to be around other people when I think, because sometimes, I say things out loud, without noticing. To say what I ponder is practically a death sentence in District 2. You aren't allowed to question the almighty Capitol here, and that is all I ever do – question and rebel.

I'm still walking to the training centre now, being careful to hide my collection of knives from any curious Peacekeepers. I don't trust anyone but myself with my knives, so I carry them with me, rather than leaving them at the centre like everyone else. There is only one other person like me, who doesn't leave their equipment in the gym, that other morning-freak… What's his name? Calvin, Karl, Cato? Ah yes, Cato.

He reminds me of those horrible, vicious tributes that are brutal with their victims, but I trust him. It was probably 3 months ago that we had our first real interaction, past just faint acknowledgement of one another if we happened to show up to the "warehouse" aka, tribute training centre, at the same time.

It had been a particularly bad day at home, one where my mother was up at the crack of dawn, and I got yelled at before I even left for training. I suppose I started muttering to myself while I was throwing my knives that morning, and Cato started paying attention to me. Stupid me chose that time to break down and cry for the first time since my dad left. Of course, Cato was kind about it, and he started to talk to me, which made me cry even more.

"What's the matter little one?" he implored. He got this cute little crease in his forehead…

"My dad left my mom 4 years ago, my mom hates me now, and my little sister hates me because I fight with mom too much. I'm all alone, no one understands me, and…"

I whispered the next part because I didn't want to be overheard "and… I hate the Capitol and I wish that everyone in it, with those stupid outfits, would burn in hell!"

I covered my mouth with my hands, eyes wide with fear, and paralyzed from shock. I had never used that language in my head, let alone out loud, to a stranger!

He patted my head, and lifted me to my feet. He said, "I understand, little one. And you aren't alone, from now on – I will always be there for you." He hugged me, and then went back to his training. I will never know what possessed him to talk to me that day.

As I enter the grand lobby of the training centre, I wonder if Cato's muscular body would be hacking away at a dummy with his favourite sword, or if he would be showing off with the weights. Would he even be here today?

I paused my train of thought so that I could change into my workout uniform. I swear, these outfits must be against some sort of fashion law! They are absolutely hideous and none of them fit! The canary yellow top was made for someone with three times the chest that I have, and the colour looks ghastly against my pale skin. As for the pants, I suppose there is nothing horribly wrong with them – basic black yoga pants. The problem is, there is extra fabric everywhere, resulting in different length pant legs. Once I deem myself presentable, I walked into the training room.

When I walked into the brightly light room, I spotted Cato immediately. He was seated on the floor, with his back up against the wall. When he looked up at me, he seemed worried, and the smile that had been on my face, quickly disappeared.

"I thought we agreed to show up extra early on Reaping Day, my vicious little friend." Said Cato.

I thought to myself, "what? Reaping Day isn't until tomorr…. Oh."

"I guess I should go home and make myself pretty, huh?" I giggled nervously. Cato pulled me in for a hug. "Good luck, fighter," he said. "and if you get chosen, try not to be so forgetful, okay?"

I simply nodded my head in reply, and I ran out of the room. I ran all of the way home, pausing only to grad my clothes and knives from the locker room. I had to get home and say a few things to my mom, just in case I never saw her again.