My life has been in auto pilot for a while. I've been trying to live a normal life these last few days before the reaping. The final reaping. I've woken up, played piano, kept my room tidy, brushed my hair. But everything is different. I haven't gone to school. It's too dangerous for me out in the real world with all the rebels lurking around. Who know's what they'll do to me? Oh wait, I already know. Put me in the arena.

I've been making a few slight changes in my lifestyle as well. I've been eating lighter. I've ran two miles everyday. I've shunned my pretty dresses. If I wanted to survive the games I had to toughen up a little.

But I'm not tough.

I'm small for my age, like Katniss Everdeen. I'm fast and light footed, like Katniss Everdeen. But that's where the comparisons end. Katniss Everdeen is strong, with spirit and friends and a husband and fans. And I'm Ericka. Green eyes, Blonde hair, plain old Ericka. The only thing that make's me the slightest different than a district child is my home and my relation to Snow. I don't follow the crazy capitol trends, I just bury myself in music and school work. Nothing too significant. But I'm evil. I'm an evil little girl and that's why the districts want to kill me and twenty three other children. Because our parents hurt them, and that makes us evil.

I've been trapped in those thoughts. I can't take them anymore. So I'm done with auto pilot, and I'm done with philosophy. I just have to live or die. And if I die it will be of old age or sickness. I will die at no one's hand. I have to win the games.

That won't matter though. If I win the rebel's will still kill me. How could they pass on the opportunity to execute Snow's granddaughter? I'll have to run after I win. It's not fair. I didn't do anything, I was just a child in the house of an evil king. I was never even a fan of the games. It's not fair. It's not fair! Those hypocrites hated the games so much, so they decided to hold another one!

And I was thinking on auto pilot again. I have to stop that.

I desperately brushed my curly hair to no use. They still fell in fluffy spirals. I picked out a plain blue blouse and darker blue skirt. I already knew I was making a statement, or rather an anti-statement. How would a plain girl like me compare to the colorful beauties known as the capitol children?

I had no one to walk me to the town square. There was obviously no one left that loved me. Instead I walked bravely and alone and stood in line with nervously chatting girls. Even today their looks weren't muted. My age group wasn't as bold as the adults. We were still relatively normal. But most of the kids over fourteen were strange looking. Facial tattoos and colorful hair was trending. Plenty of girls had outrageous eyelash extensions. The boys weren't too tame looking, either. Plenty of them look like they were surgically enhanced with muscles to die for. Or rather to kill with.

A woman in a helmet and black suit pricked and stamped my finger onto a note card with my name on it. Just like all the other teenagers. But in our hearts we both knew I was different. She looked into my eyes for a moment. Her expression held a little bit of hatred, a little bit of pity, a lot of disrespect. I can't say I blame her. I would hate me too if I didn't know me. But no one really knows me.

I stood between two girls much bigger than I, talking above my head. They must've thought they were safe. In retrospect, they should feel safe. The reaping was obviously fixed. My name would be drawn.

"You know how this works, right?" Said one girl with butterfly lashes to another.
The girl to my right, with a purple afro shook her head.
"Turns out 13 had to get creative with the reaping. They're doing it by blocks. They broke them up into twelve categories. We're the only one's meeting in an actual square."

That made sense. There's only one capitol. We were in the center, where the richest of the rich live. I guess they would break it up in puzzle pieces.

A capitol woman walked onto a platform in 11 inch high heels. She was dressed in an extravagant black ball gown with grey feathers decorating it. She was a mockingjay, or at least a sad capitol version of one.

"Hello children of the capitol." She greeted us cheerfully.

These people were obviously newbies. They clapped and cheered to her. They obviously still liked the drama of the hunger games, even if there was a slight chance of them dying this time.

"Today we have a message from the District 13."

This video was definitely different. It started off the same as every year. With a nuclear war and the capitol taking control. But it spun off into footage of particularly brutal deaths from the hunger games, and shot's of Katniss killing Snow.

I bit down hard on my bottom lip to keep from shouting. I tasted blood and wiped my mouth with the back of my hand. The girls next to me looked as if I had grown a second head.

As per usual, the woman explained what was going on.

"This year the Hunger Games have been arranged by the District 13 as a farewell to all other Hunger Games. It is an honor to represent the Block 1 of the capitol." She gushed more about how honored she was to be the escort of us and ignored the fact that OUR parents were the real evil masterminds.
"Ladies first." She said and carefully walked to the glass bowl with the female names. Everyone around me tensed.

"Ericka Snow." She announced, and everyone cheered. I have no doubt that every single name in that bowl was mine.

I stumbled out of line and walked down the aisle to the platform standing next to the escort.

"And now for the boys." She said. My heart was beating faster. I had still hoped it wouldn't be me. But I deserved this, I guess.
"Hex Liam." She proclaimed.

A boy fearlessly walked onto the stage. I barely recognized him. It wouldn't matter though, he was just another face to kill. But it was a good looking face. He was definitely my age; I think I have seen him in school. He had straight black hair that covered his eyes. He wore all black and a scowl. The only color on him was his olive skin and blue highlights.

Before I knew it I was on a beautiful train with fancy foods and such. I realized that this would be the exact same as the years before, only in reverse. I couldn't touch anything on this train, and neither did the boy. Instead we silently sat together in a small car, glaring at nothing.

"Your last name is Snow?" He asked quietly, his eyes never leaving the floor.
"Yes."
"You're not related to…"
"Yes."

His eyes darted up to meet mine. They were so dark they were almost black.

"I'm sorry." He muttered. "And I thought I had it bad."
I raised my eyebrows and signaled for him to carry on.
"Mom's a peacekeeper, so are all my brothers. My dad was a game maker. The one that should have killed Katniss, but didn't. Your granddaddy killed him."
"I'm sorry." I muttered back.
He grinned a little. "I never liked him anyways."

We sat in silence for a little longer.

"You know you'll have it bad, right?" He asked after a while.
"No kidding."
"So it would be pretty bad to be your ally, right?"
"That's obviously what the rebels were thinking when they made sure my name would be called."
He nodded, considering this. "Well, Ericka, keeping in mind that it's because of the rebels that I'm here, I think I want to rebel against their way of thinking a little."
I smiled, shocked. "Are you talking about a strategy?"