Disclaimer: I do not own the Hunger Games.

Warning: Don't be daunted by the prologue's shortness- it has no reflection on the other chapters.

Thank you for being lovely and clicking on this story. It means the world to me. Please, enjoy.


Prologue: Maysilee Donner

I know my heart says the truth

Maybe it was me and you?

I got to return to the wind

This world is never our home

Somewhere I left friends alone

Can someone show me the way?

Do I remember a life?

-Do I Remember A Life, Michael Kiske


Back then, I was just one girl, in one world, with one point of view, living one life. Back then I thought I had a purpose in life. Back then I believed I could make a difference.

But now I realise that the purpose I have in life is to die. To die so others can live.

I see it now; my Haymitch, who sits beside me, holding my hand, is going to win these Games. His life is so much more important than mine has been. He is going to spark the rebellion; he is going to find the person who will create an inferno; he is going to assist the fire-bringer in every way possible; and he is going to die knowing he has made a difference. He isn't going to die wishing he could have done more, so much more.

That's all I ever was. A little girl who wished she could do more. A girl with tedious blue eyes and dull blonde hair, with a twin sister and a best friend that she envied every so often, with a canary that she took care of just to have to give it away, with a mother who died when she was young, with a father who owned a sweet shop and went through life in a wearisome manner. A girl who studied to get flawless grades, a girl who never had a boyfriend, a girl who snuck off to the meadow to have peace and quiet, a girl who was thought to marry a merchant boy one day and have children and live happily ever after. A girl who was, in reality, destined to die. A girl who was reaped for the games, a girl who loved Haymitch Abernathy, a girl who killed a thirteen-year-old boy and three others. A girl who lies on the ground now in punishment for those deaths, slowly bleeding out through a hole in her neck.

A girl who is not able to speak as she slips away, remembering her life. A girl whose lover is the last thing she sees. A girl whose last thoughts are the ones uttered softly from his lips. I love you.

I am that girl. I am Maysilee Donner.