A group of Peacekeepers march us through the front door of the Justice Building as soon as the anthem ends. So many past tributes have walked through these same doors.

I'm conducted to a separate room and left alone. It's beautiful: polished, wooden floors, a large scarlet rug with fancy motifs and a cream sofa with floral patterns. I sit on the sofa and can't help myself but to trace the brown stems of the wandering salmon-coloured flowers. I guess it takes my mind off of my imminent death. Now is the time allotted for the tributes to say goodbye to their loved ones. I do not want to get upset, to leave this room with blood-shot eyes and red cheeks, looking weak in front of the cameras at the train station.

My father, Andy Crag, a tall man with broad shoulders, green eyes, copper hair and a square jaw line, comes into the room. I sit up straighter and look him in the eye. He takes a seat beside me. Honestly, he looks nothing like me; he's handsome, I'm ugly. We sit in silence for the first few minutes. Not an awkward silence, though, just a silence in which we enjoy each other's company.

My mother, Arielle Crag, died during my birth. I was my parent's first child. My father never found love after her. I suppose I'm all he has left now to love. He says that I look exactly like my mother, but I don't believe it. In any photos of her, she looks beautiful: dark hair down to her waist, piercing grey eyes, snowy white skin and womanly curves in all the right places. I wonder what it would be like if I grew up with my mother by my side. Would I be here, in this room right now?

I'm so caught up in the thoughts of my mother that I don't realise my farther is talking to me. He grips my arm and shakes me gently back to reality. I look at him with watery eyes.

"Listen to me. Are you listening to me?" he asks sharply.

I nod enthusiastically, alarmed by his intensity.

"You can do this, Ari. You won't die. You'll win this year. Ariana Crag: victor of the 34th Annual Hunger Games."

"But Donovan–" I start to protest, but he cuts me off.

"I don't care about Donovan. Kill him. He's going to kill you. It's kill or be killed. Remember all your skills from the Academy. You can do it, Ariana," his voice begins to shake. "I can't lose you too."

He suddenly lunges forward and embraces me in his arms. I put a hand over my mouth to suppress a silent sob and close my eyes tightly, holding back the water works.

"I love you, Ari," my father whispers.

"I love you too, dad," I whisper into his shoulder.

The Peacekeepers are back too soon and we're forced apart. I let out a cry and they slam the door behind them. I won't ever see my wonderful father again.

It's an extremely short ride from the Justice Building to the train station. I've never been in a car, but I've seen plenty before. I tend to travel on foot.

I'm so glad that I didn't cry. The large station is swarming with insect-like cameras trained on my face and reporters with microphones. I put on a smile and even wave to one of the cameras, pretending not be afraid. I catch a glimpse of myself on the screen on the wall that's airing me live and feel gratified that I appear like I couldn't give a flying fairy about being in the Games this year.

I look at Donovan to see that he's wearing a massive grin. When he walks, it's almost as if he's floating: moving elegantly, looking like he was a gift from God himself. He's obviously not the least bit worried about the Games, or at least he appears like he's not. It is obvious that Donovan is going for the hot-stuff, blood-thirsty strategy this year.

We stand in the doorway of the train while the cameras gobble up our images, then we go inside and the doors close mercifully behind us. The train starts at once.

The speed of the train initially takes my breath away. I've never been on a train, of course.

The tribute train is even fancier than the room in the Justice Building. I have my own chamber that has a bedroom, a private bathroom and a dressing area.

The drawers are filled with beautiful clothes, and I can wear anything I want! I have to be ready for supper in an hour. I take off my red reaping dress and take a nice, long, hot shower. I dress in a purple silk blouse and a pair of black trousers.

At the last minute, I remember my district token: a locket with a picture of me in one side and my mother and father in the other. On the outside, the gold locket has a swirling design that shapes into a heart. Father said it belonged to mother before.

Magnus Splendor comes to collect me for supper. I follow him out and through the narrow corridor into a blue dining room with polished panelled walls. There's a mahogany table where all the dishes are highly breakable. I sit in the empty chair next to Donovan.

A young woman with blonde hair and blue eyes comes into the room followed by a middle-aged, scary-looking bald man with dark eyes. They're our mentors: Roxy Emerson and Demetrius Hadley. I'll have Roxy. They sit beside each other, facing Donovan and me.

"Well," Magnus sighs with a smile "it's been a truly exhausting day."

The supper comes in courses. A thick asparagus soup, fresh salad, beef stew and mashed potatoes, fruit, cheese and crackers. I'm always reminding myself to save room because there's even more to come.

When the meal's over, we go to another compartment to watch the recap of the reapings across Panem. One by one, we watch the other reapings, the names called; the volunteers stepping forward–if there are any. I only pay attention to the tributes from One and Four right now because Roxy and Demetrius will try and ally them with us. A lean boy with golden hair named Topaz Nicolson is picked from One, along with a beautiful blonde girl with green eyes called Ruby Diamonds. From Four, a boy no older than fifteen volunteers for his younger brother. His name is Roderick Fisher. The female tribute is an olden girl called Dalia Netter, with copper hair and blue eyes.

Roxy lets out a low, long whistle once all the tributes have been reaped. "Quite a line up this year."

I look over at her with a nervous face. Does she really think I have no chance? I then look up at Donovan who is sitting close beside me. He looks down and meets my gaze with a confident glint in his blue eyes. He wraps his muscular arms around me and I scoot closer to him, burying my face in his hard chest. His lips press against the top of my head, and whispers against my hair so only I can hear, "We can do this."

All I do is nod slowly. It's like his touch contains a thousand volts, sending shocks through my body and paralyzing me temporarily. I'm so used to this now, the warmth of his arms. It's almost as if I can feel the eyes of our escort and mentors on us. I just want the world around us to disappear; only leaving Donovan and me behind to run away from all of this mayhem.