Somehow I make it away from the Theatre. I run through the empty streets -everyone, peacekeepers included, are around the Theatre. But how did I make it past? I made it, that's what matters. Run, Meg. Run! If they haven't caught me yet, maybe I can make it! The streets turn more familiar. I'm near Gale's house. No one will be there and I need to rest. Hopefully he's okay.

I grab the spare key under the mat and quickly enter the house. I lock the door behind me. And then I collapse onto the chair in the hallway. What now? I feel like I'm already in the games. One wrong move, one wasted second, could easily mean the end of my life. I'm afraid. I need a plan. I didn't have one to begin with, I just ran! Maybe if I keep running- But no one can run from the Capitol. Not forever.

I have to- I have to-

Ugh! I have no idea! No one has ever tried this! I've never heard stories, not even anyone saying what they would do if something like this happened! It's unheard of! Unthought of! Impossible. I'm doomed. I can't stay here. But I'm lucky to have come this far. Should I give up now? Try to play it off?

No. I had to run. Jack told me to. And... And I don't want to think of how poorly I would do in the games. But what if they go after my family -what if they go after Jack? Or Gale! Why did I come to his house, they're going to know I was here! Gale and his family will be in trouble, I have to leave!

I open the door again and peer outside. The peacekeepers are already on their way! They've probably started patrolling all the roads- I have to hop fences. Luckily I've had a lot of practice. I don't understand it. Is luck on my side or not today? I run through the house and to the back door. It's so empty without the Hawthorne's here. So lifeless. I hate this empty feeling. I'm never going to see any of them again whether I'm caught or not.

I whole heartedly believe that luck is most definitely not on my side. I'm a block from my house and a guard spots me. Recognises me. He's at the side of a house. I freeze, for some reason curious about what he'll do. He patrols the markets; we've talked before, gotten to know each other. He's a great friend of mine. But Caelus is a peacekeeper first and foremost. I can't trust that he won't yell for someone or come charging out himself.

I hop over another fence and turn back to see him smiling at me as he gives me a thumbs up. I return the gesture, almost feeling the need to collapse in relief. But I press on. It's not far now, I need to cross the street soon. I leap over another fence, cautiously peer into the windows around me. Another fence, another house. And then again. And finally, one last fence. I stare at it; going over would land me at the side of a house. Then I have to really watch out for guards.

I grip the fence. Am I ready? Can I do this? This isn't even the last hurdle. I hoist myself over the fence and duck behind some garbage bins. The stench throws me off for a minute then I'm back on track and on the look out. Stopping for too long is a bad idea. There aren't many guards around and I need to cross the street; that's what I know. I can't see my house yet so that's the only thing I know.

Leaving my hiding spot I creep along the house, my hand skimming the siding. I can see into the street a lot better. My front door is closed and probably locked. I can't see anyone inside, but what can I really tell from across the street?

Seeing a chance to run, I take it. I've never been a particularly loud person. At least, not when I walk -or run. It will be my only advantage when I'm in the games. I don't have much else. I'm fit, but only enough to have fun all day. A fight to the death? I couldn't run fast enough, I couldn't hit hard enough. And I have next to zero experience with weapons of any kind. The only experience I do have is because the grand tradition of kids playing with sticks as swords and staves has held strong around the area. Technically it can be called training, and that's what it would be if Jack didn't make it so much fun.

I reach the door and shake those thoughts from my head, quickly taking out my keys. When the lock clicks I push inside, quickly shutting and locking the door behind me. I stay near it for a while, listening for any sounds. There are none and I assume the house is empty. Good. No guards, no parents. I can do this. No goodbyes, no looking back. No regrets.

I walk through the house. Plain wallpaper. Wood furniture. It's cozy, just like expected in this district. A few pictures and decorative vases filled with simple and, supposedly, fashionable branches, a couple of paintings that Brian himself made. The stairs are bordering on steep and along the walls are a few more pictures of the three of us. I'll miss them. Janet and Brian Cate took me in and I'll always be thankful for that. But even more they actually treat me like family. They accept me and care for me. They love me. I hate having to leave them but running is the best chance I've got. They'll understand.

My room used to be like the rest of the house. I only changed it after Jack's first time up here. He told me how plain it was and how a little paint could fix it easily. I took his advice. Now my room is blue -Jack's favorite color- and silver -my favorite color. He helped me paint it. And while we did that, while the room was empty, he told me what would look great. I took a few ideas from him but kept to my own style for the most part. It's my room, after all. I didn't expect him to see much of it anyway seeing as we usually spent our time together outdoors.

Quickly, I grab a backpack and fill it with some clothes and a few essentials. I take nothing I can afford to leave behind. I also throw in the hairclip Gale had given me. I move fast, but still the seconds are precious and the ones I waste are terrible to experience. Every small pause means the peacekeepers are moving. Every plan that gets away from me turns into a thought I should keep at bay. There's so much pressure, I can hardly take it!

And I know that my body will follow if I'm not careful. I'll fall apart at some point and have to wish hard for some stranger to help me. Someone who won't give me up. Won't turn me in to the Capitol. If that's possible. Maybe if I can make it past the borders of Panem. That's my best shot; likely my only chance. I know there's more out there than we're told. I hope there is.

Taking a moment for myself, I collapse onto the bed. I don't want to stop. I don't want to give myself more time to think. I don't want to let my doubts reach me, my fears. But I have to let the familiarity sink in. Memories of the past, dreams of the future. I won't be coming back here, one way or another. Pillows are, unfortunately, something I can afford to leave behind. Comfort isn't a priority. Survival is.

Standing up again is a very difficult thing to do. A headache starts up as soon as my head leaves the pillow and I know there isn't much I can do about it. Leaving my room behind, I quickly map out the house, trying to think of where I can get the few things I still need. First aid kit, painkillers -I take one right away-, a rechargeable flashlight, grey water bottle, a swiss army knife -who doesn't have one somewhere?-, a couple of trash bags, energy bars. It isn't a heavy load, but it will wear on me given time and rest won't often be an option.

Not for the first time I think of how crazy I am! I'm actually going through with this; I'm actually running! Leaving my friends and family, my future. It was going to be taken away from me anyway, I reason. It's true, but taking the bullet would be no easier on me or them. I have to try. Even if it's impossible.

I need a something more than my sweater to keep me warm. And what if it starts raining? In the nearest closet I find a light jacket and quickly put it on. Grabbing the backpack again, I pull the straps over my shoulders and make sure they're at a good length. The pack feels awkward. I shrug my shoulders a few times to get the straps settled -no time to deal with that later. I'm stalling, I think as I roll back and forth on my feet. There's a lot I could do in the name of rather safe than sorry, but in the end what's safe is running. I walk out the back door and step into the yard.

I was here with Jack earlier. We were holding hands. Laughing, smiling, and he was almost flirting. I would have told him right after the reaping if I'd had the chance. Now I'll never have that chance. I sigh and quickly cross to the fence bordering our two yards. Why is hopping this fence so hard? How many others have I passed? And how many times before today have I passed this one? It shouldn't be hard; but this time Jack's not waiting for me on the other side. I'll never see him again. I'll never confess to him. There won't be a first date, a first kiss. There'll be nothing because I've left. Because I'm too afraid to face the games. I want him to always smile. I don't want to be the reason his smile is forced. Even if he doesn't love me like I love him, he still cares. He'll always care.

If I had chosen to swallow my fear and fight in the games maybe I could have won. Then I would tell him for sure. Maybe he would tell me when I came back? We would support each other. Night terrors, among other unfortunate conditions, are a common thing for victors and their loved ones. I don't know how likely it is for Jack, but I would be there for him; and he would be there for me.

Quickly, I jump the fence and run to the Frost's back door. It's locked, but I know the lock is faulty. I laugh softly at the memory of Jack's over excited form running into it. He didn't know it was locked of course. I pull on the knob and twist it in quick succession, forcing the lock loose, and push the door open. I don't bother to shut it behind me. I won't be long. I have all the supplies I need -or at least all that I can carry. Taking anything that may be of sentimental value to me doesn't seem like a good idea either. I simply walk around the house for a while. More thoughts, more memories invade my mind. And I let them in.

I don't open any doors, and most of them are closed; Jack's included. But I walk up to it anyway. It has his name on it in large snowflake covered blue letters. Below it is a little sign 'Knock three times, spin on one foot, and ask to enter in rhyme. No entry otherwise' I thought it was cute at first but he actually enforces it. The sign changes sometimes; always to some other silly request. My favorite was 'Sing your favorite song while doing the chicken dance'. It was very difficult to coordinate. Not that I've visited him in his room very often, but it happens! He may be fun first, but he's laziness second and they often overlap, causing me (or another friend or concerned family member) to go in and attempt to drag him out.

I lean against the door, wishing he was on the other side. I imagine knocking three times, then waiting for him to open the door. Once he did, I would spin around and say the cheesiest rhyme I'm capable of. Then we would laugh together and he would pull me inside. He'd tell me his newest ideas for pranks and ask my opinion on them. We wouldn't spend long there, he would drag me out to the living room or outside as soon as he was done sharing top secret pranking information with me. Just like always.

Pushing away from the door, I continue down the hallway. There isn't anything else I want to do, so I go back to the kitchen where I left my bag. I examine the cream puffs. They really are too good to leave behind. I put 8 into a little plastic bag and carefully stuff them into the backpack, promising not to eat them all in one go. I'll never find any like them, after all.

I don't know how, but I drag myself outside again; it's started raining. That's going to make it a lot harder to maneuver the fences. The grass will be slick, too. If I'm not careful any matter of dangerous things could happen. And then even more dangerous things once I'm found crawling along the mud with a broken ankle-

I push the thought out of my head then cautiously climb over the nearest fence in the direction of one of the Eastern gates. If I go that way there are fewer roads to cross and I'll be closer to the border around Panem. There is a large gate there, I know that. If it's possible to sneak through it, I hope I have the chance. One good thing about the rain is that the guards should also have trouble with it. Both with their movements, their line of sight and hearing. We are raised with the belief that rain can only bring good. With our main industry being in lumber, and our gardens being very important, of course we're taught that. Today, though, rain is a mixed blessing for everyone.

It's been -I don't know how long- since I left the Frost house and I'm getting sick and tired -literally tired- of hopping fences. I've slipped a few times already, both on the grass and off of fences. I'm covered in mud, soaking wet because although I have the jacket zipped tight rain keeps finding its way in; and my resolve both drops and heightens randomly in every yard. I'm also pretty sure I've cut myself somewhere, but I'm not going to stop to check. The peacekeepers keep closing in, advancing as I advance, but if I try to go any faster to get ahead of them, I slip more. I'm going to be bruised for sure. I haven't even made it to the gates, how am I really supposed to survive beyond them? But that's the thing. I'm not supposed to. I'm supposed to either die out there or give myself up. Neither are very pleasant options.

For about the hundredth time I hope that the backpack is water proof as for a few minutes the rain thickens again. I didn't think to check before I left and now if I end up regretting it there will be no turning back to get another one. It won't be a simple mistake. It could mean the difference between life or death. But I don't know that. Not yet. Hopefully if it comes to that the Fates will favor life. If I don't make it because of a stupid backpack-

I'm in the middle of a yard and I trip. My arm hits against the side of what must be a tree stump and I yelp in surprise and pain, quickly covering my mouth with my other hand. I doubt anyone heard anything over the rain but still I can't help but be cautious. It isn't very light out anymore with the dark clouds in the sky but luckily I can see my arm in front of my face. I peel back the sweater and breathe a sigh of relief. I'm not bleeding. Some skin is scraped away and my sweater torn a fraction, but I'm not bleeding and I don't need immediate care. I sigh and stand up, kicking the stump as I go. It hurts my foot, but I can walk it off easily. The small satisfaction is worth it.

Nearly at the end of the line of houses, I stop and lean against a dog house. The dog is inside and protecting it's territory, so I give up on the peace of having shelter for the few moments that I take to catch my breath. It's not just a stamina thing. I am tired, sore, and I just want to stop for a while. I thought I would never go past the walls; hoped I would never have to. The fear of what happened to my parents still lingers in me but more so it's the fear of not knowing what actually happened. I couldn't explain it if I tried. It's just... the empty, dark, unknowing still haunts me. No one knows about this fear except Brian and Janet.

But I'm cold. I'm tired, I'm sore. I can't stay here. If I make it into the woods, if I can keep going; maybe I'll be able to find an old cabin or something. Maybe a treehouse. Shelter, of any kind. I can't stay in these wet clothes; I'll catch a cold. And then it will get worse. I can't let that happen. Even if anyone from the Capitol found me, I'm not sure if they have found a cure for the common cold yet. Probably have but I don't want to have to find out. I stand up. The rain is relentless and I must be too. I need to be stubborn and tough and -I need to stay strong. I need to make it into the woods.

I start running again, trying to make it to my destination before I lose my resolve. My hand slips on a fence and I fall fowards, barely catching myself. I keep going. But up ahead is the last road. There isn't much cover there, I'll have to make a plan before I cross. If any peacekeepers see me they'll come after me and they'll know where I am, what gate I'm using, and that I'm prepared to travel through the woods. They'll also see that I'm not doing too well, but that doesn't mean much to me. I'm doing a whole lot better than anyone else ever has. I've made it this far. That's got to be enough to worry them. To scare them. I can do this; I can make it. They won't catch me.

The area around the Eastern Gates was used to be used for evacuations and other quick entry or exit reasons; there are other ways to get past the wall. I can search for a hidden passage or secret door of some kind. It's like one of Jack's games, I assure myself; that's all this is. A game. But if I lose this one then I have to join another, more unpleasant, game as punishment.

I'm between a bunch of buildings, in a network of alleyways. I wait as a patrol goes by, until they're far enough away to not hear or see me. Quickly, I skirt across the building to my left. Another building over and then there's a guarded corner. I fling myself into a narrow alleyway and decide to wait again. I scan the area, watch the peacekeepers, keep an eye out for the patrolmen. I don't know what to do. Now that I'm here, I feel stuck. It was a small step forward and now I can't take another. I'm scared to. But what's even more frightening is waiting for my fate to be decided for me. There are steps I can take. I just have to take them. I step out of the alleyway.

My mind kicks into overdrive, propelling my feet forwards. Across the street, into another alleyway. Another patrol passes shortly after and I flatten against a building, hoping I'm not as visible as I think.

While I'm not moving the cold sets in and I shiver uncontrollably. My hands are prunes, my hair sticks around my face and falls in front of me. Rain water drips from my nose, hair, clothes, and about everywhere it can. I should have grabbed a thicker jacket but at the time I know I was thinking ease of movement rather than bundling up like a marshmallow. If the items in my backpack are dry I will be happily surprised. I'm pretty sure that I'm not going to make it out of the rain in perfect health but if I can keep it to a simple cold maybe I'll be alright. Well, that's unlikely. I'm going to be far from alright no matter what the weather does. Running away is not an easy thing to do. Ever.

When I near the wall that serves as a border for the district, my hand reaches out and I freeze. There's a dull ache in my chest and not just from the chill or the stress my body is suddenly under. "It's stupid to be afraid of a wall" I tell myself. "It's a slab of concrete. And beyond it; just trees. A forest. How can someone in this district be afraid of a forest? Meg, your parents weren't afraid of the forest. They passed by this wall easily and so have many others. There is nothing to be afraid of." My resolute voice calms me enough and my fingers stretch out over the wall in front of me. It's just a wall.

There's a panel in front of me. It doesn't look like much. I kneel down and examine it, my fingertips running along the seams. My hand catches on something near the ground and I pull on a broken corner. It comes loose and I stare at the little hole behind it. It's not a passage. I don't know what it is, but it's not something I need. The broken corner piece looks useless, and on closer inspection there's writing on it; this was patch #48 apparently.

Sighing, I lean forward and press my head against the wall. What do I do now? Run for it? Keep crawling? I don't know anything about secret passages. I wonder what anyone else would do. No one else would have run from the peacekeepers. They would be on the way to the Capitol by now. Maybe they're waiting. Maybe they'll give up tomorrow and send out whichever poor boy was chosen. Oh please don't let it be Jack.

For a moment I think of going back. Checking on him and his family. I would be caught but at least I would know. It's really too late now. The moment I tried to run I got on the Capitols bad side. The only way to go is forwards.