My attempt at Maysilee's POV from the first chapter.

'Maysilee Donner.'

Me. That was me. I felt Mirabelle squeeze my hand and I heard Lana sob.

Me.

I wondered how people felt when they were reaped. But of course, hardly anyone ever came back here to ask.

Now, I can ask myself the question and find the answer: scared.

Scared. How pathetic was I? I hadn't even made it to the stage yet, and already I was shaking, feeling the tears build up in my eyes, and inside was this all-consuming fear that seemed to just take over my body, freezing my blood, widening my eyes, rooting me to the spot.

And I felt the grip on my hand loosen. And I watched as my sister walked to the stage.

To her death.

I knew she couldn't win. There were 48 tributes this year. Forty Eight. Four-eight. That makes at least 12 Careers. How was a merchant girl from District 12 even supposed to have a chance?

I knew that those goodbyes would be our last. And yet I didn't have the guts to go out and say it was me. Who would know if Mirabelle left the room and I stayed? We had the same outfit, it would be an easy switch.

But I couldn't do it.

I couldn't just...write of my life like that. Even if it meant that I signed Mira's death sentence.

I couldn't even tell her that she would win.

Pathetic.

I watched. Of course, we have to by law. But I watched for her. And I know that the people who knew me and Mira knew that in fact, Maysilee Donner was here, safe, while Mira was there, the ally of Haymitch Abernathy.

Lana wouldn't speak to me. Of course, she knew it was me that was left here. She shut me out, called me despicable, yelled curses at me, and used that word. The word that described me so well.

Pathetic.

When Lana said it, it became real. I was despicable. I let my sister die because I wanted to live. Who does that?

When Mirabelle died, a part of me did, too. I became numb, void of emotion. All I could hear in my head was Lana's voice echoing that one word.

Pathetic.

My parents knew. They knew which daughter had stayed, which daughter they'd lost.

And I don't think they could stand it.

So they did the easy thing; arranged me a marriage.

And I married. And I had my little girl.

And I had my headaches.

Guilt. That's what they say. Lana, who married a coal miner, who fell in love, who lost him.

I know that's what she says. When I first went to her apothecary for help, she laughed me away. This was a problem only I could fix, she said.

But to fix it, I'd need a time machine.

My name is Maysilee Donner. I never died in the 50th Hunger Games. My name is in the history books as a casualty of the second quarter quell.

Now, I am an imposter. I go by the name of Mirabelle Donner. The girl that took my place. The girl I let die for me.

The girl who's death sentence I signed.