Attention!!! I do not own the Hunger Games, but the OCs in this story is created by moi. Yeah, that's about it, and any reviews would be fantastic!!! :P

Prologue: Entrance

Rain, cold and relentless, poured from the darkening sky. The rolling drops traced wet lines down my face. But the coolness does not help to ease the pain.

"No, Titus, don't go!" I can faintly hear my young voice cry out in fear; fear that my loving big brother will be lost to me forever.

"Fern, let go," his voice was strained and pleading, without a hint of the usual playfulness in his tone, "Please!"

I hung on to him though, clinging on tightly as if my life depended on it. But I knew his life does, and only a miracle can save it now.

"I'll go to the Hunger Games," I screamed into the flashing cameras, tasting the salty tears streaming from my blurry eyes, "I volunteer!"

That brought a round of disgusting giggles from the bubbly District announcer.

She fanned her blushed cheeks, and managed to choke out, "Oh dear, that's a first! An eight year old that's volunteering to protect her older sibling!"

I gritted my teeth, and glared venomously at the woman.

She reminds me of a toad, an ugly, fat, wrinkly one.

"Get that little brat out of the way," the mayor, a balding man in his late forties, sneered openly from his seat on the elaborate podium, "This isn't a circus show."

One of the peacekeepers looked truly sympathetic as he pulled me away. I still struggled and scratched like a mad, yowling cat.

"I'm really sorry," the man muttered into my ear from what seem like an eon away.

But the only thing that was running through my mind was the pure hate for the Capitol, and the shame at my District's total willingness to go along with its every beck and call.

Titus did not look back at me as he mounted the stage, not once at all.

My heart felt as though it had been torn into bleeding shreds.

Thunder rumbled in the distance as lightning split the heaven in half with its jagged jaw.

All the while, I watched helplessly, slumped on my knees in the welling puddles of mud, watching one of the people I love most in the world walk away from me.

And I knew he will never come back, that I'll have to watch him die.

I awoke with a start, drenched through with clammy sweat. Forcing deep breaths into my lungs, I clambered from under the skimpy blankets on my straw bed and padded across the room, silent and worn out.

This is not the first time that I've been visited by that living nightmare.

As always, though, the memory opened up fresh wounds.

My fingers automatically clasped around the sliver of fool's gold on my neck, the oval shaped pendant dangling on a crude string, swaying ever so slightly.

This is the necklace, the good luck charm that my brother used to wear. He had told my mother to give it to me at their last reunion, monitored closely in the Peacekeeper's building. I had been too grief-stricken and shocked at the time, and had stubbornly stayed home, thinking to punish him for leaving me behind.

Now, I only wished I had at least been there to say good bye.

"Fern, are you up?"

I turned around to see my older sister sit up groggily in bed. The dim light from outside the window illuminated her beautiful face, outlining the fine features in sharp relieves of shadow.

"Yeah, I'm going out," I said quietly, slipping into my usual outfit of rough, woolen tunics and loose, black leggings, "Can't sleep."

Which is perfectly true, since I have no desire to be haunted be the images of my kind older brother, transforming into an insane, blood-thirsty monster as the Hunger Games wore on.

Of course, he was killed in an avalanche, probably ordered by the Gamemakers.

I can't blame them though, because who would want a cannibal that eats fellow tributes for a winner?

"Remember to tell Mom that I'm out," I added, dumping a bucket of freezing ice water on my face to clear my foggy mine, "Or she's going to start freaking out again."

I think my sister nodded in consent, so I slipped out of our stuffy room.

Careful not to disturb any of the others in their peaceful slumber, I maneuvered around the small living area of our three-roomed hut in the near darkness.

My hands grappled inside the battered wooden cabinet on one stone wall, grasping the hard metal hilt of a long, silver dagger.

Tying the glinting blade to the leather band coiled around my waist, I expertly wrapped the tattered sheath on to the blade tightly.

This deadly weapon is practically my best and only friend, since I've retreated deep into my shell after my brother's gruesome end.

Often times, I still blame myself that he was killed.

If only he had kept his charm necklace instead of giving it to me, if only I hadn't gotten ill and needed extra tesserae.

Then maybe, just maybe, Titus would still be here with us, laughing at my childish antics.

I pulled a warm loaf of bread out of the tiny oven, putting it into my package of food.

I used to fought over who gets the bigger lunch with my brother, long ago.

Which is silly, really; like my eight year old self.

A sigh escaped from my mouth.

The pain of losing him had never lessened, even after seven harsh years.

I've been trying to shake off this awful past, but it seems I'm drowning in them subconsciously instead.

And it always, always, gets utterly overwhelming on the day of the Reaping.

Glancing at the calendar just to make sure, I discovered that it was today that two unfortunate youth will be chosen to participate in the Capitol's cruel game.

Just like what they did to Titus.

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