Ashen Haysmith's POV

"Get up." A stern voice said, awakening me. I ignored it at first, figuring it was a part of the horrible dream I had been having all night.

"I mean it, Ashen. Up. Now." I shot up the second time, rubbing my eyes slightly as they began to flutter open. Once they adjusted, I realized that it was my mother standing at the end of my bed. She had just ripped the warm cotton blanket that had been laying on top of me off of my body, and it was now laying on the ground.

Her stained red lips spread wide across her face, showing her artificial pearly white teeth, and her crazy, neurotic eyes lit up. She looked giddy and excited, like a small child receiving a present.

"Time to get up, my dear. You have a big day ahead of you," She said, suddenly pacing around my room, ripping clothes out of drawers.

I slid my pale legs off of my bed, placing my face into the palm of my hands, my elbows rested on my thighs. My stomach began to drop as I came to the realization that today, I could be shipped off to the Capitol and placed in the arena. This may be the last time ever waking up in this bed with the warm sun to greet me in the mornings. And my usual nightmares may soon become a reality.

I stood up, smoothing out my nightgown and crossing my arms over my chest, watching my mother continue to frantically dig through my room. I guessed she was trying to find something for me to wear to the reaping. Everyone wore their best attire on Reaping Day.

On Reaping Day, it was tradition for District One citizens to get extra Capitol-ish for the day. They dyed their hair, stained their lips, put on fake eyelashes, and other strange things. Some even went to the extremes of reconstructing their face. My mother, for example, had had her nice auburn hair changed to a solid blue color, dyed her lips a shiny cherry red, and glued 6 inch fake nails to her fingers. But much about her had not changed. Her eyebrows were still plucked to a pulp, and the crazy, insane look remained in her eyes.

The oddest thing about my mother? She wanted nothing more than for me to be sent to the Capitol and forced to fight to the death. While most mothers worried about never seeing their children again on this day, mine worried that my name wouldn't be picked. I never knew why she was this way. Maybe it was because she took pride in it. Maybe she wanted to be able to get sympathy from the other District One residents. Maybe she needed the victory money. Or maybe she just hated me. Whatever it had been, with the fact that she was a divorced woman, me being her only daughter, it was all very weird. She would be alone if I died. Which made it even more peculiar to me.

My mother let out a small moan, biting down on her bottom red lip, looking at me. Her eyes were suddenly filled with panic and concern. She let out a quick, sharp breath.

"Oh Ashen, this is horrible," She said, suddenly pacing back and forth. "I can't find anything for you to wear today."

I gave a small shrug, walking over to my dresser and pulling out a baby blue short sleeve dress I wore to the previous reaping. I remembered I had worn it with white dress shoes, which I began to look around for a little.

My mother examined the dress carefully, her fake nose scrunching up ever so slightly. Her head shook quickly, a look of disgust on her face. "No dear, no. No." She worked her way over to wear I was standing before ripping the dress out of my hands, scrunching it into a little ball. "Ash, you wore this last year love."

I shrugged, rolling my eyes a little. "Okay then," I said, turning my back to her, heading over to my closet to look. I swung the closet door open, beginning to slide all of my clothes across the rack. Suddenly, a cold smooth hand touched my shoulder. My mother had a tiny smile on her face.

"I'll go buy you a new dress. Right now." She said beaming. I quickly shook my head a little.

"Mother, that's not necessary." I say with a slight frown. What did it matter what I looked like? If I did get picked, would it really matter what I wore as I approached my own death?

My mother placed a flat, smooth palm up towards my face, motioning for me to stop talking. "Yes. It is. I'll be back." She said, heading for the door. Before I could even say anything, she was gone, slamming my door behind her, leaving me alone.

I let out a loud sigh, walking over to my full-body mirror. I looked long and hard at the image being projected back at me. I stared into my own dark blue eyes, biting softly on my lower lip. This person, looking back at me, may be dead in a week or so. This pale skinned blonde girl, may be be sent to her death today. This person was me.

I got dressed in black leather jeans and a white one-shoulder top, a typical District One outfit for a girl. I threw my hair up in a messy ponytail before exiting my room and heading downstairs.

I had a pretty decent home. It was a little large. Two stories. Modern furniture and architecture. It was comfortable enough. But it was empty most of the time.

My mother worked as the head of a luxury jewelry company, and was rarely ever home. And between school and Career training, I wasn't there much either. But most of the time, when I was, it was just me. And I was okay with it, kinda. My mother was slightly insane, so it was nice to just live a normal life without her there at times, but everybody wants to spend time with their mother. And I didn't have that.

I flopped down our white leather couch for a good three seconds before there was a ring at the door. I let out a little groan, slowly standing before heading to the front of the house.

When the door opened, anger rose inside of me. Standing in front of me was none other than Martial Lockhearst, my ex-boyfriend, who somehow always made his way into my home.

Martial smiled at me when I made eye contact with him. "Hey babe," he said, stepping around me, and into the house, making himself at home. I rolled my eyes.

Martial Lockhearst was the "it boy" in my town, Cider. He was attractive, charming, cocky, and rude. Basically every teenage girl's dream. Martial had sandy blonde hair, much like mine, ice blue eyes, golden tan skin, and perfect teeth. And the crazy part was, he had no alterations done to him. No plastic surgery or anything fake about him, like my mother. He was born perfect, which made me hate him even more.

Every girl in Cider and most of District One was crazy for Martial. He was godly and perfect. It's like he wasn't a real person. But he was one of the worst people you would ever meet. He was a heart breaker. He would put his charm on you and make you fall in love, then make you feel like nothing the next day. It's exactly what he had done to me. And yet, he still remained in my life. I could not get rid of him because my mother loved him. She had told me I would marry Martial. She wanted me to. Because Martial Lockhearst was perfect, and that's what my mother wanted me to be, perfect.

"So you nervous for the reaping, Ashy?" Martial said to me, flopping down on my sofa, propping his legs up. He gave me his perfect smile, the one that had once made my heart melt but now just made me fill with anger. Martial had been calling me "Ashy" ever since we had dated, and as much as I begged him to stop, he never did because he knew it got on my nerves.

I rolled my eyes, sitting down in a chair across from him. "Obviously I'm not excited Martial," I said, pursing my lips. "What kind of person do you think I am?"

Martials mouth made a straight line. "Well, I still think you should volunteer sometime," He said smirking a little. "Not that I want to see you die or anything," he said chuckling a little, as if something like that was funny. "I just know that you could win Ashy. And life as a victor would be amazing, don't ya think?"

My hands turned into tight fists and I let out a loud sigh. Was he serious? Yes, he was. He was Martial Lockhearst. "I know I couldn't win, Martial," I said in a quiet voice, looking down.

Even though, if I thought about it, there was a slight chance I could win. I was pretty smart. And pretty good with daggers. And I was stronger than most girls and even some boys, even though I didn't look like it.

Martial shrugged, smirking just a little. "Whatever, your name's gonna get drawn anyway," he said, snickering just slightly.

My head shot up, my eyebrows raising slightly. "What are you talking about?" I asked, my eyes staring hard at him.

Martial looked over at me, his thick eyebrows knitting together. "Because of what your mom did..." He said, in an "obviously" kind of way. His eyes stayed on mine, looking at me like I was crazy, like I didn't know something that everyone else knew.

My eyes narrowed and stayed glued to him. Martial. What did my mother do?" I asked sternly, my lips in a tight line.

Martial bit down on his lip slighty, as he realized that I didn't know what he was talking about. His face flushed for a moment and he gulped. "Uhh...you don't know yet?" He asked, looking down, avoiding my gaze.

He looked up, noticing that I wasn't going to answer that question. He knew. He began again. "Right..uhm okay," he began, still not making eye contact with me. "Uhm...well..you're mother..she.." It was hard for him to say, I could tell, but I needed to know. He continued. "She entered your name some extra times in the reaping ball..like..a lot," he said quickly, finally meeting my eyes.

My stomach dropped for a moment and I felt nothing. Was I surprised? No. But I still felt nothing. I leaned back in the chair I was sitting in, staring hard at the wall on the other side of the room, my eyes blank. So many thoughts ran through my head. She really hates me that much. She wants me gone. My own mother wants me to die. My body was numb. I lost track of everything around me.

After a while, I think I heard Martial say my name a few times, his hand flashing in front of my face as if he was trying to wake me from this strange daze I was in. But it didn't work, so he said "Whatever. See you tonight." before walking out of my house, the door slamming behind him.

As for me, I sat in that chair for a while, just wondering...why?