The next few years were dreadful as I came to understand exactly what my mother's life had been. I came to understand that my father had caused my grandfather some embarrassment and had paid for his indiscretion with his life and my mother's freedom.

My indiscretion had not cost me my life but it had cost me my freedom and, worse, the freedom of my sister. Poor Amber Dawn was crushed when she learned she wasn't to return to school. Mother did what she could and life was bearable more or less. I could even fool myself into forgetting about the walls from time to time though we weren't always kept locked behind them. We were dragged out of the house when it suited Grandfather; for photo ops, parties and the like. We were always very happy and very loving on camera.

I did what I could to help Amber Dawn adjust, to make up for the solitude. My life changed so much in just a few years. By the time I was fourteen I felt very old.

Then came the 74th Games. Grandfather seemed to take great pleasure in requiring us to watch the Games, ALL of the Games; every brutal minute of them. But I think we had the last laugh in the 74th Games. I felt my heart swell when the girl on fire volunteered. I saw her little sister. I saw her strength. I hoped so much that she would live but my mind went back to poor Courtney and I tried to hold back my feelings. I tried so hard but the way she flew out into the parade with the other tribute, flames licking all around them and yet not touching them.

Then the boy, Peeta, told of his affection. And the way he fought for her. The way he seemed to work so hard to keep her alive. Poor little Amber Dawn cried herself sick when the little girl from district eleven died and I couldn't harldly breathe when Katniss arranged the flowers. It was such a statement. There was no hope that Grandfather would let her survive.

The announcement, though, broke down all the barriers in my heart. I hoped. I hoped with all my soul that they would live. The days they spent in the cave, talking and keeping each other's spirits up. The jabs at Haymitch. Katniss's incredible bravery going after the medicine. Then the terrible fight with Clove, the girl from district 2. I couldn't look. Out of nowhere the boy from district eleven came in and saved her, an opponent from another district spared her. Why? Because she helped a little girl he cared for.

The days and hours ticked by and the focus of all the coverage centered on district twelve. Not that the tribute from district 5 wasn't impressive. But how can you root for more than one person? And yet, every year I seemed to be rooting for almost everyone and watching them die, one by one.

I cried when district 5 ate the berries and I cried almost as hard when Katniss found Peeta shortly after. Her relieved anger almost made me laugh but I couldn't through the tears.

The grand finale was one of the most horrible I'd ever seen. I couldn't believe it but I felt sorry for the heartless tribute from district one in the end. Still, the relief when the tributes from district 12 survived. I couldn't believe it. They were through. The impossible had happened.

Mother and I woke Amber Dawn with our screams of glee and jostled hugging. Then the voice. The second announcement. No new rule. No exception. No reprieve.

One of them would have to die.

Then the berries. I didn't want them to die but I couldn't believe their bravery. I couldn't help but feel it was a great thing to show the Capitol and my thrice blasted Grandfather just what they thought of the Games. But… I didn't want them to die.

"Stop!" The panicked voice but still, poor Peeta. And Katniss, screaming and throwing herself against the barrier.

Finally, it was all over and they were safe and sound. I loved that required watching. Seeing them so in love at the interview.

Usually Grandfather made us watch the tours and other events related to the Games but that year we were prohibited which was another indication to me that things in that Games had gone horribly, horribly wrong for him. We didn't get anything remotely like news in our gilded cage of a mansion but I tried to eavesdrop on the conversations of the guards, ask what I hoped sounded like innocent questions and read between the lines what I could.

Grandfather still sent for us at official functions and so that is how it came to be that we were invited to the engagement celebration he threw for Katniss and Peeta. For once, I was genuinely excited to attend one of Grandfather's parties. I picked a more simple dress and understated makeup. I wanted to look more like Katniss. I wanted desperately to meet her and, well, I wanted her to like me.

When I arrived at the palace with my mother (Amber Dawn wasn't allowed to go) I rotated before the camera as usual but this time the phone rang. Grandfather or whoever watched me on the other end of the camera feed didn't like my attire. I was whisked into another room and given a new outfit to wear. It was horrible. I mean, it wasn't, but it was. The height of Capitol fashion, it was covered in jewels and frills. My make up was also removed and reapplied in a more liberal and dramatic fashion. Worst of all, though, was the perfume. They said Grandfather personally requested it.

When I walked into the ballroom I positively stank of roses.

I never met Katniss. Anytime I approached her, I could actually see her nose crinkle and she would instinctively move away from the smell, and Peeta would move with her. I tried to eat some of the wonderful dishes served, after the complete lock down Grandfather got rid of our staff, another way of punishing us. I had struggled very hard initially but now had a pretty decent grasp on cooking. Still, I couldn't imagine creating such wonderful dishes and began plotting possible ways to sneak some of the feast back to Amber Dawn.

As I was examining one of the many little cakes on display and wondering if it would still taste as well after a trip in my handbag, a shadow fell across the table.

"They look amazing, don't they?" A familiar voice asked pleasantly.

I couldn't believe it. Peeta Mellark was standing right there. Right next to me. I felt flustered and wondered what to say.

"Um," I choked out, my voice cracking and then I coughed loudly and indelicately all over the table of pastries.

"Are you okay?" He asked. "Do you need some water or something?"

I shook my head no. My throat seemed to have seized up and I couldn't speak.

"Are you quite well, my dear?" My Grandfather purred from behind me and I jumped, my eyes wide. That was another problem with this wretched perfume, I couldn't smell Grandfather coming.

I shook my head, suddenly terrified. He seemed angry under his customary benign smile. I hadn't yet forgotten the night he had almost strangled me to death or the beating he'd given my mother. I tread very lightly where Grandfather was concerned.

"No." I managed to say. "Nothing, Grandfather."

"Yes, well, you shouldn't manipulate our guest of honor's time. There are many guests who wish to speak to our young Mr. Mellark." He reached out and placed a hand on my shoulder but close enough to my naked neck that I shuddered.

"Yes, Grandfather." I said, my eyes on the floor. But I dared to look up and meet Peeta's again, he was frowning at us. "I'm so very glad to have met you. Congratulations. Please tell Ms. Everdeen for me."

Grandfather squeezed me painfully and I pulled away, trying not to wince.

I never got the chance to speak to Katniss and Grandfather stopped food deliveries for a week. It's odd. Near the end of that week I had run out of almost everything. I took some flour and water, fried it and served it to my mother and sister with honey. I remember it tasting so good but I made it later and it was like eating sweet glue. It's nothing to do with my story but it just popped into my head. I've always thought how odd that was. How hunger can make something that isn't even good taste like the best thing you've ever had.

Back to the story.

Things went bad with the Quarter Quell.

Grandfather, once again, insisted that we watch the Games starting with the announcement that the tributes would be drawn from the victors. I cried myself to sleep that night.

The quell was as awful as I'd thought. I should've died from dehydration I think considering how much crying I did. I knew there was no way Grandfather would let Katniss and Peeta survive. Watching them was worse than any Games before. So many terrible things happened to them but I think the worst was the birds. The screams and the way Katniss just seemed to fold in on herself. I tried to cut off the sound but I assume Grandfather had anticipated that because I couldn't.

Then everything exploded, in the Games and everywhere else.

The rebellion was fully launched and even the Capitol wasn't safe. The rebels hacked transmissions and I could see. I wanted so badly for them to win. I never imagined I would regret it.

But I did.

The guards abandoned our home, ironically, as soon as it was threatened. If I had retained any doubts about their purpose their flight from our doors when danger loomed would have put a period on them.

I was ecstatic but mother was concerned.

"But it's over!" I insisted. "The rebels are here. Grandfather is going down in flames. We're free!"

"We are still the family of the most hated man in Panem." Mother hissed as she packed food tins into a canvas bag.

"But he hates us and we hate him. They can't blame us for what he did."

"People don't think rationally at times like these, Ocean Grace." She sighed. "They're angry. Father has done terrible things to them as long as they can remember. They won't stop and think. They won't ask your opinion on his politics. They won't even see you. All they'll see is him. I didn't let him kill my children and damn well won't let you die because of him."

I stopped arguing.

We ran. It was chaos in the streets. People didn't know where to go or what to do. You'd hear screams and people would start running and you just ran with them. Most of the time I didn't even know what we were running from.

On the third day Mother was struck by a stray bullet. It wasn't even meant for her. Amber Dawn was screaming and trying to run back out into the street but I stopped her. I made her stay with me under cover until the shooting stopped. As I watched, a man running for his life tripped over her body bleeding in the street.

The waiting was horrible. I could see she was still alive but I knew that if I ran out to get her Amber Dawn would come with me. I had to sit and wait for what seemed like forever but finally, the shooting stopped. The rebels had won the skirmish and were securing the area.

Amber Dawn and I ran to mother. I held my breath as I looked for some sign that she was still alive. She opened her eyes and tried to smile at me.

"Oh, thank goodness." I sobbed. I didn't know what to do. "Someone help, please!" I screamed at the soldiers. "Please help us!"

Mother took my hand and tried to say something.

"I can't hear you. I don't understand." I cried.

She took my hand and fumbled with Amber Dawn's.

I nodded. "I'll look after her. Don't worry. We'll all be okay."

And, just like that, she was dead. She didn't even close her eyes but I knew. I knew the second it happened because, she just wasn't there anymore. People are different when they're dead. They're so terribly still.

I knew it instantly but I couldn't accept it.

"No!" I cried. "Please don't. Come back! Please! Mama! I need you. I can't do this! I can't do this! I need you! Please come back! Please!"

Someone grabbed me and pulled me away and I went a little crazy I think. I fought and screamed and bit. There was no reason to go back to the body. I knew she was dead but something broke inside me and I just couldn't leave her there, lying in the street.

Someone must have hit me because I don't remember how I went from trying to crawl back to my mother's corpse and being in a cage.

They figured out who we were almost immediately. I think they might have been looking for us. They kept us under lock and key in an apartment in a building I didn't recognize. No one hurt us but few interacted with us in any way.

I did my best to cheer up Amber Dawn, to make her forget but I wasn't good enough. I think I might have felt better if she'd cried or made a fuss but she didn't. She didn't say word, in fact. Amber Dawn remained completely silent no matter what I said or did.

The time dragged on and eventually some of our keepers loosened up and even began speaking to us. I think it was Amber Dawn. She was only ten but already beautiful in an almost otherworldly way. Her skin was pale with a smattering of freckles over her cheeks and nose. Her hair was jet black but her eyes were such a light shade of blue it almost looked as though she'd had them color treated to silver. The tragedy of our mother's death had added a new facet to her though. Her eyes weren't just beautiful, they were incredibly sad in an unsettlingly mature way. She truly looked like a thing out of fairy stories. Delicate and fragile and sad, everyone eventually seemed to feel almost as protective of her as I did.

I wondered how often sisters were born like us. A dark haired, delicate, blue eyed fairy child and her red haired, boyish sister. My freckles weren't an artistic smattering, they were everywhere. My hair didn't fall in straight silky sheets, it was a frizzy, curly mess. I didn't have anything approaching Amber Dawn's thin framed elegant grace. My torso was short and I seemed to have been built for hauling bricks. I think the kind thing they say about my body type is sturdy. I'm not fat, how could I be with the diet Grandfather provided, but I'm not…I don't know…slender. The bones you see on other girls are likely to be their fingers and clavicles. With me you notice my shoulders and chin.

Yes, any sympathy we attracted was definitely generated by Amber Dawn, not me.

Eventually, we learned our fate. Mrs. Bale, the woman they had eventually assigned to keep track of us (though I had been handling things just fine) told us over breakfast. There was going to be a final Hunger Games and all the tributes would be drawn from the Capitol children.

It had been decided that since the Capitol had taken a girl and a boy from every district for 75 years, the Capitol would have to give us a girl and boy for each of those years.

I did the math.

There had been over half a million people living in the Capitol when war broke out. 75,000 of them had been under the age of 18. Bombs, stray bullets, mutations running rampant, buildings collapsing and other misfortunes during the fighting had caused the deaths of almost one third of them. That left roughly 50,000 children from which the tributes would be chosen.

150 tributes out of a pool of 50,000. My odds seemed pretty good. But somehow, looking at Mrs. Bale, at the way she wouldn't look at me I knew. The odds were not going to be in my favor. Someone was going to make sure of it.

I didn't think. I grabbed the old woman's hand.

"Will you take care of her?" I whispered, suddenly shy. It was as if grabbing her hand had taken all my courage and I couldn't spare anything for my breath.

She wouldn't look at me.

"Please. I know they'll make sure I'm chosen. I don't care. I don't mind. But, please. Promise you'll take care of Amber Dawn. I'll be okay if I know she's going to be taken care of."

She looked up and met my eyes and I knew. I didn't want to believe it but I knew.

"They…They've lowered the minimum age…" She began slowly and I didn't wait for her to finish. I acted on instinct.

Grabbing my zombie like sister, I ran for the door. I wasn't thinking about the guards on the other side. I was thinking one thought, "Get Amber Dawn out."

The guards barred our way and I turned back into the apartment, scrambling for something. Mrs. Bale was calling to me and I could hear tears in her voice but I didn't listen. I had to get Amber Dawn out. I had to find a way.

I ran to the windows. They were all sealed.

I started crying as I tried window after window. Running from room to room with my baby sister stumbling numbly behind.

I finally reached the end. The last room. There was nowhere to go.

Mrs. Bale and one of the guards stood in the door and, yes, she was crying but what good were her tears to my sister?

I thrust Amber Dawn behind me, backing into the corner.

"Please." I sobbed. "Please not her. I don't mind. I don't mind if you take me. I don't care. Please. Please, not her."

"Oh, dear girl." Mrs. Bale cried. "I'm so sorry but there's nothing I can do."

I made a decision. I grabbed a dirty plate sitting on a nearby table, broke it and turned the shard in my bleeding hand toward Amber Dawn.

I had seen the terrible ways tributes had died in the arena. I knew that the people in control would take extra pleasure in seeing us suffer and I was determined that at the very least my sister would die as painlessly as possible. It was rash and I would have always regretted it. So, it's just as well that someone clobbered me over the head before I could manage it.

I woke up in a cage and stayed there until the reaping. I learned that there had been preliminary lotteries, which apparently was the practice in larger districts. The final group of 500 was gathered in the arena where they normally had the parade of tributes and the names pulled. The stands were packed with people from the districts who cheered and laughed as name after name was called.

I imagine I looked as dead eyed and zombie like as Amber Dawn when they called her name. The soldiers moved in to escort her off with the other unfortunates and I considered fighting them, though I knew it would be useless. Then it hit me.

"I volunteer!" I screamed into the subdued crowd. Suddenly animated, I jumped and screamed waving my hand. "I volunteer as tribute! I volunteer!"

The new President who was reading the names stopped and looked at me sadly. But I would be heard.

"I volunteer for my sister. I'll take her place." I explained.

The soldiers had arrived but I had pushed Amber Dawn back behind me.

"No, not her. Me. I volunteer."

There was a long pause as even the bloodthirsty crowd stilled and paid close attention to what was happening.

Someone was whispering in the President's ear and she nodded, then turned back to the microphone.

"It is worthy of this girl to volunteer. We applaud her for that. However, this is not the usual reaping and thus the usual circumstances do not apply. In the reapings of the past it was possible for one person to take the place of a selected tribute because only a single boy and girl were chosen. In this final reaping, there are many boys and girls from the same area. Therefore, it is not possible to substitute one for the other."

My stomach sank and if I had been given anything to eat that day I would have been sick. I knew what she was saying.

"We accept your brave offer to volunteer. You may join your sister and the other tributes now."

I had failed again. Amber Dawn was going into the final Hunger Games, and so was I.