A Quick Note From The Author:

Hello everyone! Thank you all so much for clicking! It really does mean a lot to me. As always, I don't own THG. I sure wish I did, because that would be epic. But, I don't. They belong to the lovely Suzanne Collins.

Okay, now that I've gotten that little bit of obvious information out of the way. I'd like to say another little sort of "Disclaimer". If you can call it that. It has been awhile since I've read The Hunger Games trilogy. I've been reviewing the books, and re-reading parts of them in preparation of this story. However I am still human, and it is possible that I might accidentally get something wrong on occasion. If I do get something wrong, then I apologize, and I can assure that it was purely on accident.

However, since this story is a fanfiction. I did add a few things of my own, into this story. I'll try to point them out to you, when I remember too, but I most likely will not. So, please be wary of that, before you automatically assume that I got some aspect of The Hunger Games series wrong. Thank you.

The Full Summary:
Katniss didn't kill President Coin. Instead, President Coin went on, and continued to rule Panem. She designed Panem's new Government, so that the districts were in charge of everything. The Capitol was re-named: "Capitol City". The old citizens of the capitol, and their descendants live there. It is in this city, that every year the new reapings take place. You see, Katniss and the other victors decided not to abolish the Hunger Games altogether. After the seventy-sixth Hunger Games, which was supposed to be the last of the games. The citizens of Panem still felt as if the old capitol citizens hadn't been punished enough. So, they went on with having the Hunger Games every year. Every Games season, twenty-four descendants of capitol citizens are reaped. The kids are reaped over a span of twelve days, and how many times their name is in the reaping bowl, depends on many factors.

Despite the fact that the people of the districts are living happy lives. Katniss, Peeta, Effie, and several other are beginning to see that Panem is relapsing back into what life was like before the second rebellion. The districts are treating Capitol City, just like how the Capitol used to treat them. Katniss tries to propose a way to end the Hunger Games, but she isn't sure how to go about this without damaging Panem. However, when the unspeakable happens to Peeta. A new spark is ignited within the Mockingjay. A spark for revenge.

Meanwhile, in the arena. One of the tribute's token is a journal. Attached to it, by means of a small leather cord, is a pen. This tribute begins to write down the many things that happen to her while in the arena. After her death, her journal is found by many other tributes, who begin to write in it too. This story is told in first person by the tributes, and by some of the characters from the original HG series. It is also occasionally told in third person, and in a few letters/journal entries.

I fail at writing summaries. xD But, that's kind of a full summary. c:

Anyway, that's all I can think of to say at the moment. Anyway, thanks again for clicking, and thank you for reading!

Can you even hear me?
Prologue: Part One
Kallista Hollis: Dear Miss Katniss Everdeen: Introduction

The Government Of Panem, Storage Files.
Category: The Hunger Games
Games Number: 102nd
Current President At The Time Of The Games: President Alma Coin
Head Of Games: Katniss Everdeen
Tribute: Kallista Bailey Hollis, aged 15
Warning: The file is open to GOVERNMENT PERSONNEL ONLY. Any unauthorized persons caught with this file will be PROSECUTED.
Translator's Note:
This journal was the token of one of the fifteen-year-old tributes, who died in the 102nd Hunger Games. Due to one of the new rules, after the second rebellion, following President Coin, becoming president of Panem. It was decided that children from the Capitol would be reaped, for the Hunger Games, and that the tradition of the games would continue.

Kallista acquired this journal from her English teacher at school, during visiting hours, the day she was reaped. She was able to keep the Journal with her, throughout the games. Until her death. After her death, Kallista's journal was discovered by several other tributes, who continued writing in it.

Due to the rough environment of the arena, many words, and pages in Kallista's journal have become unreadable. However, with the help of District thirteen (The new capital city of Panem), these pages have been translated, to what it is estimated Kallista had originally written in her journal

The first entry is a sort of introduction. Kallista left the first page of her Journal blank when she received it. Her first actual entry, is on the next page. The entry on the first page- this is a historian's estimate-was written sometime when Kallista was in the arena- most likely hiding out. It serves as an introduction to the book.

It should also be noted that this was not only just a journal, but the book also contained several letters that Kallista wrote, primarily addressed to Katniss Everdeen. Letters, that Kallista expresses frequently, that she never planned on sending. But did hope that Katniss may "Get her hands on", and read some day.

Kallista's journal is still both a mysterious, and fascinating artifact for historians today to analyze.

Without further ado, if you open the manila folder underneath this note, you will find the journal of Kallista Hollis. Deceased tribute, in the 102nd Hunger Games.

This Journal Belongs to: Kallista H.
If Found Please Return To: My house, idiot.

Dear Miss Katniss Everdeen,

I know, that you will never, ever read this.
In fact, I find it highly unlikely that you will even remember my name, a few days from now. That is, if you even know my name at all, right now. You've been at the top of the chain of command, in making so many Hunger games, happen by now. That, I sometimes wonder, weather or not you even remember any tributes names.
Not that they matter, really. We're usually all dead, within a matter of weeks. One sole animal emerges from the arena, drenched upon his hands is the blood of twenty-three other children. Who will never, ever once be remembered again, as anything else other than "That one tribute who was stabbed in the throat.".

I know, that I probably only have a matter of days. I wouldn't even be surprised, if I had hours, or minutes, even mere seconds left. Who knows, someone could be hiding behind a bush right now, just ready to jump out at me, and take me out of this arena, and out of these games. But, I know, that I don't have all that much longer. I've surprised myself, really. I think I've surprised a good amount of people, actually. For lasting this long. And, I know that it's only because I've been getting lucky. I mean, I didn't intentionally try to earn a "one" for my training score! it just sort of happened. I'm really not all that good, at this whole "Surviving" thing. I haven't eaten in days. The only water I got was from a water bottle, somebody dropped while running, that I- once again, by luck- found.

But eventually, even I know, that my luck will run out. Sometime soon, I'll run into that dreadful moment, when I have a choice; Kill, or be killed. And, though I know which direction points towards survival, and which direction points towards death. I don't know if I can make the right decision. Interpret that, as you please. Because, not even I know what I mean by that.

The truth is Katniss, I am scared.

I'm scared every day. Because, what if today is my last day on this earth? What if, I never get to see my family, and friends again? What will happen to them, if I die here- on national TV- for them to see? If given the choice of survival, or taking someone else's life, would I pick my own over there's? Could I pick my own, above there's? And, if I do end up taking someone's life, how can I deal with the guilt? How can I live with myself, knowing that I, Kallista Bailey Hollis, killed somebody. Somebody just as innocent as I am.

And Katniss, I'm so sorry for flashing all those rhetorical questions by you. But, for a minute, I just thought that you might understand. But, of course, how foolish I was to think so. How dumb has this arena made me? I've at last dropped low enough, to resort to asking the only female victor of district twelve- who was in the Hunger games twice! If she understands, what I am going through in this arena?

Wow, I really must be going mad, aren't I?

The truth is Katniss, I just want to tell you something.

Weather this book ends up your hands, or anybody else's hands. In fact, I don't even care who's hands these little pieces of tear-soaked, blood-covered parchment lie in, anymore. I just want someone, somewhere, somehow to read this. And when they read this, I want them to know, only one thing.

That I, Kallista Bailey Hollis. Was not just some pawn in their games.

And that is because, I have a voice! I have pen, and paper. And you know what they say, Katniss? They say that the pen is mightier than the sword! And even if repeating that single mantra over, and over to myself, does not boost my confidence about being in the arena. Because, some days, I find it difficult to believe in such a phrase, while- literally- fighting for my life in this sheer little piece of space they call "The Hunger Games". But, then again Katniss- just please keep reading. Because, I have some important words to say to you. Just let me tell you this:

I have a pen, and a blank notebook.
I have already recorded my entire journey up to this point. And I will continue to record it, should I keep on living.

Miss Katniss Everdeen, should you ever lay your hands on this book, I want you to listen to me right now.

My name is Kallista Bailey Hollis. I only recently turned fifteen-years-old, not that long ago. I'm pretty much average on the looks scale- not ugly at all, but I'm not any sort of breath-taking-ly beautiful model. I love reading, and writing. I have a little brother back home, who's would've only turned twelve recently. I live with both my parents. And I have a pet dog. She's a cocker spaniel, the name on her collar says "Honey". But, in all honestly, she doesn't respond to that name. She only responds to the name Bob.

I'm sure you don't care about my dog, who is informally named Bob. I bet you even care less about my family life, and the least of all, about my looks. I am only confessing this information to you, because I want you to know something.

I am a one-hundred-percent-real human being. I have feelings, I had hopes, and I had dreams.
Notice my use of the word "had". As in I HAD dreams. Yes Katniss, I did have dreams before being forced into this arena. I'm a young, stupid, restless teenaged girl! There were things that I wanted to do with my life. And now, they've all come to an abrupt halt, because I've been forced, to carry out the dirty work of some unfair game.

The unfair game, that I have been forced into, to pay for my ancestor's mistakes.

I am not the capitol, that existed when you were in your teens. What those people did to you, and your family, and your friends, and all the Districts was wrong. It was extremely wrong. . And I am genuinely sorry that you had to experience that. But, I'm so tired of having to pay for the mistakes, that they made.

But, me? No, I am not them. I am ashamed of what they did do. But, I am not them. I'm only just a child. A young girl, who only turned fifteen a few days ago. To be honest Katniss, I'm really not all that much older, than your oldest child.

Oh, and just so you know. I won't be silenced so easily. As I told you before, I have a paper, and pen, right now. Right here, in my lap. And I intend to use them.

Like I've recited, more than a few times before. Inside this journal, you will find what has happened to me during the Hunger Games. I've tried to write as neatly as possible (Hey, my handwriting is actually pretty good. Too bad they couldn't have counted nice penmanship into my training score...) so that- should this journal ever fall into your, or anybody else's hands- they are able to read it perfectly clearly.

Katniss, I hope you know that I am only recording this so that, I can prove something to you. Prove that I am not yours to play with. I am not a pawn, in your silly game for revenge. I am my own self, and I will never, ever be manipulated, or controlled.

Before, I end this breathtakingly long introduction, and leave you with this Journal. (Since calling it a "Diary" sounds way too lame...) Miss Katniss Everdeen, I would like to leave you with this one last thought.

Do you remember those- rather stupid- Q and A sessions that we tributes attended with all of the past victors? Do you remember the girl standing towards the back of the pack of anxious tributes, who's hand was only seen, because the tribute in front of her, bent down to tie their shoe? Yeah, um, that was me.
Katniss, do you remember what I asked you that day? The day, that I saw you as a human- for the first time ever in all of my fifteen years?

I asked you about Primrose, and Rue.

And Katniss, long after I am gone- just another casualty of these unfair games, in which I am forced to partake. I want you to remember something.
While reading this journal, I want you- and all of Panem- to remember Primrose, and Rue.

Because Primrose, and Rue, were humans- just like me. And Katniss, as hard as it is for me to wrap my mind around it sometimes, they were humans, just like you too.

And Katniss, I also know that they were two humans that you cared about very much. You know, despite how much I loathe you these days, for indirectly forcing me into this mess. Sometimes I remember your response to my question, at the Q, and A session. And I can't help but think to myself; You know? Katniss Everdeen, really did care for those two young girls.

And, so in conclusion. Katniss Everdeen, you are indeed human. You feel emotion. You think words, and thoughts, and phrases- just like me. And everybody else- all of Panem. You have dreams, and wishes, accomplishments, and some tings maybe you aren't so proud of. Above all, and before all else, you are human. Just like Rue, and Primrose.

And so, since you are human Katniss. I just want to ask you one last question, that not even I had the bravery to ask, during the Q, and A sessions.

And that is why. Katniss, why did you let these games begin, once again?

Much love and Happy reading,

Kallista Bailey Hollis
The female tribute, from the 8th day of reaping.

Prologue: Part Two
Point Of View: Brogan Weeks: Final Thoughts Before The Countdown

Some days, I don't even know why anymore.

I don't bother to stop, and think, because I can't. I don't bother to stop, and breathe, because I wouldn't be able to take a single breath. No matter how hard I tried to do so. And, I only know that because, every day, that I live from this day onward. Every day, is going to be overflowing with more, and more regrets.

I don't like regrets. Regret is one of the things that just make people weary. Regret sits like heavy stone, upon your conscious. Weighing it down, until you finf it hard to just "be". You have to make things right- you know you have too. But, the only problem is that you don't know how exactly TO make things right. You get trapped in this ever-going cycle, of what can I do, or not do to fix this problem. Until it suddenly just take sover your mind, and your entire conscoious being, and you begin walking around like this-this weird sort of sad zombie!

And, I don't want to live my life, as a walking, breathing zombie.

My blue eyes scan the horizon, and, I know that this is it. This is one of the last things, that I might ever see. And, for the first time in a long time, I can at last acknowledge how sad, I really am. I am sad, pathetic, terrified, and scared. Just so, so very frightened, and scared.
One of the last things I will ever see, are the other tributes, standing on the platforms around me. The voice on the clock is female, and it's a voice I've heard far too many times before. This year, it is Katniss Everdeen- the mockingkay herself, administering the countdown. Numbers flash high above me in the sky- or is it really, even the sky? The arena is just a big blurb of force field, in the middle of who-knows-where. The gamemakers control the sky, the gamemakers control the weather. They control everything in the arena.

But can they control me?

The thought first comes as a silent, premotion, just a little whispering in the back of my mind. Just a spark of a thought, and a touch of rebellion. Yes, I have been controlled, and forced into these games, that I somehow must now play. But, the gamemakers can control the arena, and to some extent, the citizens of Panem, for without their feedback, the games wouldn't continue to be so "entertaining". But, what about me? Me, Brogan Vance Weeks.

Part of me, wants to call myself uncontrollable. An uncontrolled animal set free. Out of it's cage, it cannot be tamed. But, am I really that free?

Do I really have the right to call myself free, when I sit here on- what might as well be called my "Gravestone". Just waiting for the games to begin? If I'm so uncontrollable, then how could I have let the gamemakers force me into this arena. To receive penance for the sin, that my ancestors committed. Maybe it's just my paranoia, and fear. But it seems to me like the count down is ticking off faster now. And, I began to feel more aware, that these next few days, could very well be, the last few days of my life.

The last few days of my life, because I do not want to kill anyone.

The countdown numbers begin to lower.

Katniss calls out clearly: "Five."

This is it. It is time to make the choice. Kill, or be killed?

"...Four..."

Can I really kill someone? Watch the life leave their eyes, as they look at me, wondering why I must do this? Why did I have to pick them, to kill, maim, and murder.

"...Three..."

And what about their families back home? Could I deal with the fact, that I know somewhere, a family is grieving for the life of a child they lost?

"...Two..."

Make up your mind. Make up your mind. Do I stick with my morals, or do I choose to survive?
If I'm going to die...why should I bring anyone else down with me? I have to be brave. Now's the time.

"...One..."

I don't want to kill anyone...I really don't...

"Ladies, and Gentlemen. The 102nd Hunger Games have begun."

And so, the bloodbath begins.

Oh hey, the Author's talking again: Well guys...what do you think? I know, everything seems kind of vague right now. The "actual" story starts next chapter, this was just the Prologue. I promise that things will get a lot clearer in the next chapter. I was going to wait to publish this, until I had the next chapter done, so that it wouldn't seem so weird, and maybe make a tad bit more sense. But, I'm still working on the other chapter, so I just put this up anyway. xD
Anyway, the next chapter will be up, real soon! And I promise things will make a lot more sense soon.
Anyway, that's all I can think of at the moment...thanks for much for reading. And, I know you've read this on every fanfiction, you've probably read. But, it'd be totally epic, if you left me a review!
Oh, and I swear I don't normally write such massive author notes, and I try not to let my chapters get this long...but, oops.
Anyway, thanks so much for reading!