Authors note:

Hey, thanks to all the people reading this! It's my first story and I really hope it turns out well! I don't know how often I can update because my computers basically a piece of crap! Finnick won't come for just a bit. Maison was only eleven when she plays her games, so we can't have them together quite yet! I would love anyone to leave me a review! It would seriously help! I also decided to update today really fast because I'm in love with this story and my computers actually working! Until next time! Love ya!

As it will forever be, thehunger games are owned by Susan Collins, not me!

I was called out of my small farewell room into the hallway were I was put with my siblings again. I had been so concerned with my own feelings, that I hadn't even thought of oaken and lark. I looked up at my sisters ashy face and wished she didn't have to do this, but I felt no sadness for myself, I would take this with courage and bravery. Lark's liquid sky eyes poured into my strange ones, asking questions that I simply couldn't produce answers for.

Even though my sister was much older than me, I still felt responsible for her. She was sweet and pretty, and much too innocent for the harsh cruelty of life in Panem. She saw beauty in everything, whether it be the crisp colored leaves in the fall, or a dreary puddle she had just slipped in. Everyone loved to talk to her, heck; they loved to be able to even look at her. She was one of the prettiest girls in the seam, and her carefree sweetness seamed to draw even more people to her.

I was the stark opposite of her, being called a killer from the outcome of my birth, and getting beaten blue every day after school made me grow some tough skin. No one ever stopped to say hello to me, or ask how I was doing. I never saw anything that made me feel joy, I don't think ever actually felt happiness. Yet I didn't pity myself; I accepted the feeling of dread every day I woke up. I never stopped to feel sorry for myself, because that was what the weak did. Being weak would get you absolutely no were in your days. I knew what pain was like. I knew what sadness was like. I knew what it was like to be resented every day of your life. I was all too aware of what our world was like, even at the fragile age of 11. My father always joked that I grew up to fast, but that's exactly what I had done.

My brother was another story, rough and course. That's what he wanted you to think at least. It took a while but eventually you could begin to see the gentle side of Oaken. How he couldn't go hunting with me and my father because he couldn't bear to see anything's life take away, or how I would catch him letting tears fall free when he saw something that reminded him of our mother.

That was why I always felt like my brother hated me so much, because he loved our mother more than anything, and I had taken her away. Oaken hardly spoke to me, and when he did they were short, rude comments or commands. Whenever anyone mentioned a single thing about our mother, Oaken would turn to glare at me. I could even feel is staring when my back was turned. Could I even call her that, our, mother? I had killed her, so she never had a chance to exactly mother me, so was she even something I could call mine?

I scrambled to clear my head as I was brutally shoved onto the train that was heading to the Capitol. Peacekeepers weren't exactly kind to 11 year old tributes. I saw our only chance of life, our drunken mentor Haymitch, stagger onto the train behind us, yelling profanities about another year of watching people die. I wasn't sure how much watching this man would actually do, I realized that it wasn't a rumor Haymitch spent all is time getting drunk, to forget his games.

The games, I knew they broke so many people. One minute someone was a happy care free child, and next they were thrown into the position of life and death, and they got life. I heard victors are plagued with the nightmares of the children they'd killed. If I won, would it just add to the list of nightmares I had of my mother? I threw that idea from my head as I remembered I wouldn't win. I was a scrawny 11 year old girl, someone was bound to be stronger and faster, someone who would deal the killing blow.

As I boarded the train my eyes were bombarded. White chandeliers hung from the polished ceiling, and the furniture seemed to be made of glass. The décor that lingered around the room looked like spun gold and silver, and I immediately felt for my necklace. Thru the windows I saw the forest of district 12 fly by. My salvation, the only place I felt like I truly belonged.

I'm not sure how I managed to find a chair and sit, but I did, and I looked around at the glorious heaps of food surrounding me. Things my brain couldn't comprehend were pilled around me, and I could have as much as I wanted, and yet people in all the districts were starving to death. I realized my siblings had already tucked into the mounds of strange delicacies, but I had a sick feeling in my stomach, like I was going to spew my meager breakfast of bread and squirrel all over Ensai and the table.

Haymitch looked at me drunkenly from across the table, " Why aren't you eating princess, too good for you?" he swung his hands around when he talked and I briefly thought his alcohol bottle would fly across the room and nail me in the face, at least it would be a quick way to die, much better then what was looming over me. I glared at him over the mountain of food, saying nothing; I was in no mood for games and jokes.

"Wow," he muttered, "Well aren't you a chatty Cathy?" his response was meet with another stone cold glare before he stood up,

"Well this has been fun and all, but I have more important matters to attend to" He swayed to the cabin dour and it slid shut behind him, closing us off from him. I momentarily thought about what his "more important matters" could be, but when my brain failed me with an answer I decided to pick into a strange lump I believed to be a roll of bread.

Hours passed until we were gathered to see the reaping of the other districts. We were brought into a small living room like space, with a giant broadcaster flickering before us. It started off with district 1 of course. The smallest group was from 6, a 14 year old boy that was an only child. All the others had more than one, and the mostly ranged from 2-4. There was a small child from district 2 called, she was about 6, but her brother was a giant 18 year old so I was positive shed be okay, at least for a while. All together there was 36 of us, 35 children would die, and one would live.

We eventually were shown to our bedroom compartments and after a tearful goodnight from sister and eye contact with my brother, I slipped into my room. I was meet wit the site of pillows to the ceiling, and a bed that looked like, for lack of a better word, a cloud. I slipped off my reaping dress, and crawled into what I believed were satin sheets. I tried, in vain, to fall in to the sub consciousness of sleep, but it would not find me. I rolled and tossed and turned, yet I could not find a comfortable spot. Sliding out of bed, I put my dress back on, intend on finding somewhere peaceful. I drifted around the train; there were so many corridors and halls to get lost in. I settled in the dining room eventually, tired of wandering. Suddenly the door slid open to reveal Haymitch, for once in his life, sober. He greeted me with a sigh and sat opposite me on the table.

"Can't sleep either," Haymitch groaned," huh princess?"

After a few awkward seconds, I decided to finally speak to him. "I never can, what about you, my king" he chuckle at my joke, but it ended shortly.

"I don't think I've actually slept a whole night since my games."

"Well isn't that encouraging."

"Maison," he stared at me, "You seem like a kid who's had more in her life than most, so I'm telling it to you straight."

"Sounds fair." I mumbled.

We drifted into a comfortable silence before Haymitch lifted himself from the table quickly, and left. I returned to my room as well; ready to face the onslaught of nightmares sure to follow.