[A/N] We are terribly sorry for the late upload, we had up to chapter 6 written on a website but it crashed, loosing all our data!

Blame for the late updates!

Disclaimer: As there is two authors of this fanfiction, we can't both be Suzanne so all we own is the characters!

Issy's POV

When I wake up, my heart sinks because I know what day it is today. I crawl slowly out of bed and dress in a pale purple dress with short sleeves, which I have worn to readings for the last two years and stand in front of the mirror. My long, dark red, almost brown hair falls loose over my shoulders, and my eyes, which are reddish-brown in the middle and green around the edges, are the same as my mother's. I wander down the stairs to the kitchen, where my mother has made the usual reaping day breakfast of fish, eggs, bacon and pancakes.

District 4, where I live, is quite a rich district because we have had a lot of victors over the years, so we get free things from the Capitol. Our family is also quite rich as both my brother and I got paid to train as careers, before he died and I quit.

Two years ago, my brother, who was 18 at the time, volunteered as tribute. He was probably one of the best careers our district has ever had, but I guess he just - well, others were better.

He was in the final two. The other tribute was also an 18 year old boy from district 2. They fought for what seemed like hours, and towards the end, you could see that they were both weak and tired. My brother collapsed to the ground, breathing raggedly. He seemed to have given up. The other boy stood over him, and brought the sword down, into his back.

I remember watching the tv alone in the house as my brother died. Both my parents would come home from work later to find me sat, silent and shell-shocked, in front of the TV which had long since been turned off. For two weeks after that, I never left the house except to go down to the beach, where I would sit for hours, remembering all the tiny details of him that I refused to forget; the way he laughed, the way he spoke, the way he walked, the way he looked at me, the way he was my only friend.

I snap back from reality. I often slip into these memories. I haven't spoken more than a few sentences to anyone but my parents for two years. The depression that threatened to kill me never really went away. It has sat inside me for so long, just beneath the surface, never willing to go. After about five minutes of pushing the food back and forth across the plate, I get up from the table.

There are still a few hours until the reaping, which starts at noon, so I walk in the opposite direction to the town square, towards the beach. I sit on the tallest sand dune, letting the cool breeze blow through my hair. The beach is empty apart from me, and I am quite hidden, so I let all the tears, that I have held in for what seems like decades, run down my cheeks, safe in the knowledge that I won't be disturbed. I curl up into a little ball, crying into my knees and think of my brother.

My poor helpless brother, beaten by the most famous tribute known, Brutus. He deserves to go back to the games now and be taught a lesson. 'I hate Brutus, I hate him so much!' I think to myself. A rage burns up inside me whenever I think of him, district 2 or the games. I just want to avenge my brother in any way possible, but I may have to wait until I'm 18 and ready. But I won't go into the games, I can't put my parent's through that though.

I lie down on the sand and try to remember all the good things about my brother, in an attempt to drive the anger away.

-[PAGE BREAK]-

After two hours, I say goodbye to both my parents, and walk down the sandy streets to the centre of town. In the square, hundreds of children stand in ordered rows. I sign my name in and stand with the other 17 year old girls, none of whom I know well. Although I go to school now, I don't talk to anyone and spend most of my spare time in the library.

I see the other girls talking and pointing not-so-discreetly at me, but I pretend not to notice them. According to the giant digital clock on the front of the scrubbed, grey stone justice building, we should start in five minutes. I stand, silently praying that I don't get chosen.

The woman that calls the names for our district, Celeste, takes her place on the stage. Her hair is dyed blue and decorated with fish-shaped blinking lights.

"Hello, everyone! How nice to see you all here today, on this, the most special of occasions! Welcome to the 64th annual Hunger Games!" She opens the ceremony. I'm already fed up of her stupid Capitol voice, and I've only been listening for ten seconds!

"To start, I have with me a video, brought to you directly from the Capitol! Isn't that a privilege?" Sure, if you say so.

The screen on the wall of the justice building bursts into life with an image of the shining Capitol in all its glory.

"Panem. Our great country has not always been as peaceful and golden as it is today. The peace was won after years of a terrible war. Hundreds died, but the years that have followed have been the best this country has ever seen. To celebrate this peace, and keep war at bay, every year one courageous young man and woman shall be offered up as tributes to fight to the death, knowing that the victor will be the bravest, the strongest and the best. May the odds be ever in your favour." During this speech, images of war, bodies, crying children and men with guns flash across the screen.

"Wasn't that special? Well, here we go! Ladies first!" She dips her manicured hand into the big glass bowl filled with girls' names and plucks one from the surface. After a second of fumbling with the folded paper with her too-long nails, she calls out the name.

"Isabelle Martin!" She shouts.

The girls around me turn and gape at me. I almost wait for someone to volunteer for me, before remembering that careers only volunteer for those under 16. I walk numbly towards the stage without really realising what's happening, and take my place next to Celeste. I search for my parents' faces in the crowds, and meet my mother's eyes.

"Don't worry!" She mouths to me, though I can see the tears threatening to spill over, even from so far away. At some point, a boy's name was called, as I hear Celeste's familiar voice telling us to shake hands, and I turn to find myself staring into the emotionless, ruthless eyes of Mason Chadwick, the best career our district has ever had.

He crushes my hand in his grip, and then we are guided into the justice building. I start to awaken from the shock just in time to hear the noise of a gossiping crowd, then the slam of the heavy wooden doors behind us.

Did you like this chapter?

Please tell us your thoughts and ideas!

Please check out all of JustNotNormal's stories

We will give all who review a free virtual cookie! (::)

I'm terribly sorry I will not be updating any of my stories as I am going on a camp thing in Devon (I hope it's like CHB!)