***Hey guys! annairb7 here! This is my first fanfic I've ever done, so support would be nice :)

Don't own the Hunger Games. Suzanne Collins does***

Everywhere I look, a sea of District 11 children's plain faces. No smiling or cheerful expressions on the other's faces, but worried, upset and panicked faces. I couldn't blame them. I probably looked the same as them.

Mira Sturble, a tall, pale, woman of about 35 with long brown hair, walked on stage. She was the woman from the Capitol who'd pick 1 girl and 1 boy to fight to the death in the Hunger Games. Mira announced that this was the reaping for the 70th Hunger Games, blah, blah, blah. Like we didn't know that already. Mira started rambling on and on about the Hunger Games, and my mind drifted away from Mira's useless chat about how this is in return for rebelling during the Dark Days.

This was my last year in the reaping. If my name, Leila Hummingbird, didn't get called, I'd be free to live the rest of my life in District 11, without having to worry about going into the Hunger Games. But I still had my friend, Olivia Jackson, to worry about. Olivia was 15, so she still had to wait 3 more years until she was free as well

My name was in there 14 times, because my family was quite poor. I had to get the food for the my dad and my brother, who was 22, because it would be better that I die in the Hunger Games, than my entire family die of hunger, like my poor mother 9 years ago. If I were to die in the Hunger Games, I'd die knowing that my family would have got food anyway. But it would be better if I lived, because as victor, the entire District 11 would get food monthly, and my family would be rich beyond measure.

Mira had finally finished her long speech, and was reaching her hand into the ball of girl's names. 14 of those envelopes had Leila Hummingbird written on it. And 12 of them had Olivia Jackson. Not me, I pleaded silently. Not Olivia. Not me, not Olivia. Please. Please, please, please.

Mira swirled her hand around in the envelopes, smirking, the atmosphere becoming more and more tense. Just pick one and put us out of our misery! I wanted to scream. My heart was like a fast, constant, drumbeat, my head pounding. It can't be me, it can't be me.

Carefully picking one with her slim claw-like hand, Mira slowly opened the envelope, savouring our agitation and fear. How could people from the Capitol be so mean? She was clearly enjoying this moment, sentencing an innocent child to death, or near insanity if they were lucky enough to not get hacked to bits.

Mira decided that now was the time. With a slight smirk on her face, she said the words I was dreading.

Leila Hummingbird.