There is a rape scene ahead, but not awfully graphic.

I do not own the Hunger Games nor its characters.

I returned from school with Prim that afternoon with a haul. Madge Undersee had brought lunch from home and had not finished one half of her sandwich. I had liberated that sandwich from her table, where she had so conveniently left it.

I thought she may have seen me taking it, but if so, she mentioned nothing. The cafeteria made me nauseous that day. And so, my sister and my mother had a sandwich of soft bread and beef. Probably fresh that day from the butcher. I could not touch it, and it did them better than it would me.

Nothing passed my lips today, not even water, for every time I sipped, I thought of my plans for nightfall and bile rose inside of me until I was heaving at the side of our home.

I tucked them both in early, in the same bed, and watched them quietly as they fell asleep, sated as much as they both knew how to be. And I stepped out of the room, with my hunter's feet, as my father had once called them, into what was once my mother's wardrobe. I had sold the physical thing a while ago, and the roof had given in too, letting cascades of rain seep through to the point where I thought it might bring the whole house down. In one untouched corner, lay a neat pile of my mother's clothing from her Merchant days.

I had sold the majority of them, keeping only four dresses. They were both too big for myself and Prim, and I had been prepared to sell them also, until my mother snapped out of her reverie to cry when she spotted me taking them. They had some sentimental value, I assumed. Perhaps one was what she wore on the day she first met my father, the other on the first date, another their wedding, another when she found out he'd died. At least, I assumed this. I could hardly ask.

I picked up the pale blue one, the smallest of the lot. I hoped it would look alright. There was very little womanliness to fill it as my mother once had. I used rainwater, cupped in my hand, to clean my face. I pinched my cheeks, letting the blood flow, hoping to look healthier. I didn't think Cray had a preference, but I would take my chances. I donned my father's old hunting jacket. There was nothing I could do for my hair: it was raining, and there was no hood to the soft leather, one thing I could not bear to part with.

I closed the door quietly, and slipped off through the Seam, head down, knuckles tight around myself, willing myself to be strong. I was here rather early, I thought, twilight. There seemed to be only myself and another woman here. She looked less deserving than me, I thought spitefully. Maybe I had colour in my cheeks, maybe I had on a Merchant dress and I was still clinging onto my youth, but her cheeks were full. She did not struggle for breath, she did not shake. She stood hunched and leaning against the wall. She had eaten today.

He came an hour later. There were ten of us today, and I continued to pinch my cheeks as they came. Maybe he would like me more if he thought I was healthy. The door opened and I looked up. Should I smile? I felt like I was at the Reaping.

He surveyed us, heavy browed and reeking of liquor. He scanned the small gathering without interest, until he saw me. And his eyes lit.

I had never been popular with boys at school, nor men in town. I was Katniss Everdeen. I was a child, until today. I was not worth looking at.

It was a year later when I realised why exactly he had picked me that night, and it was because of what I gave to him in return for coins. Not just my body, as the other women did. I gave him my virginity. I gave him what men paid a high price for in other districts, he told me later. I gave him my innocence.

It was awful. He sweated on top of me, barely waiting to say hello – what had I expected? Food? – before pushing himself into me. I cried out in agony. It felt as though I was splitting in two. His eyes were beady, and sweat gathered on his upper lip as he attempted to watch me as he slowly and painstakingly stole the last of my dignity. The only redemption I allowed myself was that he had used protection, something from the pharmacy that I didn't really understand, some sort of sheath. But I knew that it would keep me safe from another mouth to feed.

I would not meet his eyes once. When he had finished, and removed himself, I wiped my cheeks where I had let a few tears creep out, unnoticed. The pain seemed to never stop, the ache. I looked down at my naked form and saw the blood that stained my thighs and his sheets. He looked pleased.

What was protocol for this? Did I…ask for the money? But no. He handed me my dress, and my coat, and then a fat bag of coins. He smiled and poured himself a drink. I gawped at the bag. I had never before felt the weight of coins in my palm such as that night. I had sold most of the furniture in our house; I had sold our clothes and even my mother's wedding ring. I had not felt a heavy pouch like this even for the last.

I got dressed and prepared to leave, claw around the pouch of money the entire time. I could feel my underwear dampening with blood already. I hoped there was none on my mother's dress, lest she might notice.

Who was I fooling? She would not notice.

"Katniss," he croaked, just as I reached the door. "I would like to see you again."

I nodded and left. I curled my hands around the money as I staggered home. It was no longer raining, but the floor was wet and muddy with coal dust and dirt. My heels dragged in it. It was night, now. There seemed to be no light in the district, no light in the sky.

I crept in through the door just as the heavens opened once more. I could hear Prim snoring softly in the other room. I removed my clothes for the second time that night and was relieved to find that there was only a small wet patch of dark blood on my mother's dress. I could remove it.

What I could not remove was the shame. Who had I ever thought to give my virginity to? A husband, in a far off time when things were not so hard? No. I knew, I knew that they would always be hard. I had never thought to give it away so carelessly.

Not carelessly, Katniss. I told myself. The coins would save our lives. I stepped, naked, out into the torrential rain, and began to cry, as I felt the sweat rinse down my body, and watched clean rivers eventually emerge between my legs, until I shook with the cold and my legs were clean. The blood that seeped through my underwear looked black in the darkness.

I had saved my little sister's life, and for that I would give everything. Even myself.