A/N: I do not own the idea of The Hunger Games... As much as i wish i did they belong to Suzanne Collins. Some of the characters are of my own making.. blah blah blah. Hope you enjoy. Please Review.
I stood where the rest of the twelve year olds were, waiting for the names to be called. I couldn't stand the anticipation as everyone else around me was the same. Silence was all around, like death waiting to pluck one of these children into his arms and carry them away.
"I don't want it to be me," I thought just as I was sure everyone else was too. It was all about power. Control. They wanted to be sure we were doing exactly what they wanted and this was their way of doing so. "The Hunger Games," is what they called it where they placed 24 children into an arena to fight to the one survivor. I knew if I was chosen that I wouldn't survive.
"Josh Jacobs," the man on the stage called. I saw someone stir in the corner of my eyes and looked over. He was standing in the area where the seventeen year olds stood and was walking forward to the stage. He caught my eye when he walked by and a look of despair and fear flashed. I felt sorry for him, but there was nothing I could really do. It was the Reaping and everyone had to attend. Those chosen had no choice.
"Now for the girls," he said and then I held my breath. I couldn't take it anymore. I only had my name in once as my mother wanted it that way. She didn't want me chosen, but in the end, that wouldn't matter. Either I would have good luck and be spared or die by someone else's hands.
Here it was. The final moment. He reached his hand in and grabbed one of the small slips of paper that contained someone's name. He was hesitant on reading it and whether it was for sending someone to their death or anticipation I didn't know, but I knew it was the moment of truth.
"Amelia Carter," he said and everyone turned and looked at me.
I couldn't breathe. I didn't want to breathe. A part of me wished someone would kill me right then instead of fighting people. How could I kill someone? I was twelve and my life was as good as gone. I was only about 100 pounds and small for my age. I was thin as if I didn't have enough to eat, but that wasn't true. I was in the fourth district and wasn't by far the worst person who would enter the games. There were eight other districts poorer then I and I wasn't going to pass off as a poor girl.
I straightened my purple dress and walked out of the aisle. Everyone stared at me and some whispers also echoed, but I didn't care. We were a Career District and there were boys and girls trained for this, but I knew no one would volunteer for me. Josh was one of those who were trained and no girl would go up against him when only one could survive. This was it. I was walking down saying goodbye to these faces. These were the people I grew up with and had known all my life and I knew I wouldn't see them again.
"Amelia?" a woman's voice sounded behind me.
Go back mom, I tried to will to her, but she obviously didn't get the message. She came running towards me and guards had to hold her back. The entire time she was calling my name and tears sprang to my eyes. I would miss her the most, but at least if I was dead I could watch over her from heaven and guide her.
"I volunteer!" her voice rang over, but of course no one would listen. The games were for those between ages twelve and eighteen and she was not. She was thirty and not allowed to participate. I reached the stage managing not to turn around and face my mom, but I had to stand in front of everyone. My face, along with Josh's, was on the big screen behind me for the entire district to see. There were other people watching as well, no doubt the Capitol had their televisions set to the channel to watch us. I hated the idea of others watching me and a shiver went down my spine in response. When I finally turned to face everyone, one sole tear ran down my cheek.
"There you are," the man who drew our names said. "Your District Four Tributes!"
He raised our hands over our heads, but no one cheered. You could hear a pen drop if we were in a classroom. Instead, the wind blew the dirt and a cloud covered the sky. I looked up as if to pray, but I knew it wouldn't do me any good. I wouldn't make a difference in this game. I will be among the fallen, left to die and be forgotten as the world and Games move on. There is no doubt about it, but I want to be different. I will be remembered. My only question was how.