My name is Katniss Everdeen. My best friend, Gale Hawthorne, was reaped to become a Hunger Games Tribute. He was killed in the bloodbath at the Cornucopia. And now I'm all alone. I was going to tell him that I loved him after the Reaping because this was his final year of eligibility but... shit happened. And now I know that you shouldn't wait to tell someone you love and care for them because when they're gone, no matter how much you scream and cry... they won't be able to hear you anymore.
The casket has just been buried into the ground and I really can't stand to be here for another second so I say my condolences to the Hawthorne family before I leave the Cemetery. As I walk home, I pull my black trench coat tighter around me to keep warm and let silent tears fall from my eyes. I don't even bother to wipe them away. Gale... I know that we will never be together... But that's alright. I'll keep on dreaming... But it would be better if that dream was a reality.
I fall to my knees, leaning against a wall in an alleyway and sob for the boy with the snares. The boy who captured my heart as well as his rabbits.
I still remember the day we said goodbye in the Justice Building. Gale wasn't even scared, it was like... he accepted it. He knew he couldn't survive against all those trained killers but I still hoped he could. The last thing he said to me was, "When I die, don't come near my body. Because my hand may not be able to wipe your tears anymore" I kept my promise to him and didn't go near his body. The thought that causes my heart to shatter into a million pieces is that I won't be able to see his beautiful, seam grey eyes or his round, full lips turn up into a smile anymore.
I'm broken out of my thoughts by the sound of someone walking towards me. I look up just in time to see a man grab my arms, pull me up and cover my mouth. "I'll kill you if you scream." the man hisses. I remain motionless as the man presses a blade up to my throat. "Do you understand? If you scream you're dead." I slightly nod my head and feel the cool, metal blade dig into my throat. He slowly releases his hand from my mouth and I bring my knee up, hitting his groin. I scream. Quickly. Abruptly. The struggle begins.
He manages to cover my mouth again. He knees me in the back of my legs so that I fall down. "You don't get it, bitch. I'll kill you. I've got a knife. I'll kill you." He releases his grip on my mouth again and I fall, screaming, onto the brick path. He straddles me and kicks me in the side. I make sounds, they were nothing, they were soft footfalls. They urge him on, they make him feel righteous. I scramble on the path. I am wearing soft-soled moccasins with which I try to land wild kicks.
Everything misses or merely grazes him. Somehow, I don't know how, I make it back on my feet. I think I bit and pushed him. Then I began to run. Like a giant who is all-powerful, he reaches out and grabs the end of my long brown hair. He yanks it hard and brings me down onto my knees in front of him. "You asked for it now," he says, and I begin to beg. He reaches around to his back pocket to draw out his knife again. I struggle, my hair coming out painfully from my skull as I try my best to rip myself free of his grip. I lunge forward and grab his left leg with both arms, throwing him off-balance and making him stagger. But he manages to keep his grip on me.
Somehow, I end up on the ground on my stomach. He sits on my back. He pounds my skull into the brick. He curses me. He turns me around and sits on my chest. I am babbling. I am begging. He wraps his hands around my neck and begins to squeeze. For a second, I lose consciousness. When I come to, I know I am staring up into the eyes of the man who will eventually kill me. I am convinced that I will not live to see tomorrow. I cannot fight anymore. He is going to do what he wants to me. This is it. Everything slows down. He stands up and begins dragging me over to the grass by my hair. I twist and half crawl, trying to keep up with him.
Dimly, I see the dark entrance of a tunnel up ahead. As we near it, and I realize it is our destination, a rush of fear runs through me. I know I will die. There is an old iron fence a few feet out from the tunnel entrance. It is three feet high and provides a narrow space through which you have to walk to enter the tunnel. As he drags me, as I scramble against the grass, I catch sight of that fence and become utterly convinced that if he brought me beyond this point, I would not survive. For a moment, as he drags me across the ground, I clung feebly to the bottom of the iron fence, before a rough pull yanks me clean.
In the tunnel, the man climbs on top of me and starts taking off my layers of clothing. I keep drifting in and out of consciousness so I only catch bits and pieces of what he is doing. Removing my jeans. Spreading my legs. Getting himself ready to enter me. And then the pain. It is agonizing and excruciating. I don't know how else to explain it. It's like your being ripped in half. I think I begged him to stop, I'm not sure. But he didn't and it looked like he enjoyed every second of it.
When he finally is done violating me, he gets up, sorts out his clothing and walks away as if nothing had happened. But I stay on the ground, trying to wrap my head around the fact that in the last 24 hours I have been to my best friend's funeral and I have been raped by a stranger. I can feel myself drifting off into unconsciousness and the last thing I see is a beautiful blue and green moth landing on the curve of my wrist.