The train I always took to work and around district 6 is nothing compared to the luxury of the tribute train. The deep blue velvet carpet only compliments the wood tables and plush chairs that decorate the room. The food seems unlimited as well. From my meals, with Markos, I knew the Capitol people ate well but I am taken back by the food that lays throughout the room. Volumnia tells us it's if we feel like snacking but the amount of food could easily keep my family fed for a month or two.

I grab a small cake that is topped with several types of fruits, only two of which I know, blueberries and raspberries. I take a bite and instantly my mouth bursts with flavour. The soft sweetness of the cake mixed with the tart flavour of an odd green fruit and the crunch of its small poppy sized seeds. I can't help but quickly finish off the rest of the small pastry.

Petro, on the other hand, seems used to such luxuries. Both of her parents are doctors so she is probably used to an abundance of nice food and luxurious soft furniture. She casually plops down on one of the chairs, crosses her legs, and looks out the window at the blurred trees that speed by.

I lean against the counter of one of the many tables within the room and grab another pastry. A chocolate ball topped with white chocolate flakes and filled with a creamy cherry flavoured liquid.

"Who do you think will be our mentors?" I say.

Every year 2 of the previous victors are chosen to mentor the tributes. They are in charge of preparing the tributes for the games, managing the tributes appearance, and collecting sponsorships for when we are in the games. Having a good mentor is the difference between life and death once you are in the games.

Petro only nudges her shoulders upwards in response.

"Not a talker?" I ask.

"No point," she replies.

"Well, it helps us get to know each other."

"Won't help us kill each other," She says.

I am surprised with the answer. A girl who is 14 years of age is already distancing herself so she can have a better chance in the game. She is already preparing for it, playing it. A girl who just a few minutes ago I thought would have no chance at winning. But that is when it hits me, her family is doctors. She knows the human anatomy, knows where major arteries are, where to stab someone to get a quick kill. She is used to seeing blood and death. How could I be so oblivious to her skill set? I have been fearing people who know how to kill, who can kill, and I have someone like that right in front of me. I can't underestimate people in this game. Just last year a girl named Johanna Mason won the games by playing weak and everyone underestimated her and left her to just die off on her own, but she didn't. She waited till the final 7 and then showed she had the skill to kill. She butchered the career pack and then hunted down the last of the other tributes and killed without mercy. For all I know that could be Petro's plan, to let her innocent petite look make her seem underestimated, then come out to be a skilled killer. She is already playing this game and I am just joining.

I sit on the plush chair beside her, the second I do the door opens. Caliper and Fascia, two previous victors, walk into the room. I remember both of their games. I was too young to watch them live, but I have seen reruns of them on TV before other games or else at school when we had to learn about our previous victors.

Fascia was the winner of the 49th games. She won her games by killing the career pack on the first night well they slept. Then she hid in the cornucopia and waited for other tributes to come to her when they would scavenge the bounty of supplies within the golden horn she would leap out and kill them before they had time to react. She was the most fierce victor in our district, but she got tricked into doing morphling. Her once muscular frame is now sagging, her skin cracked and mixes of white and yellow. Though she is just 40 she looks more in her 60's.

Caliper is also affected by the morphling, though not as much as Fascia. His skin discoloured, eyes sunken, but he still keeps his fit body. I notice fresh bandages on his forearm, I have seen that too many times. People often scratch their arms or legs constantly well they are going through withdrawals, often scratching so much that their skin gets broken and they literally rip their arms open. Many addicts have died this way, bleeding out due to self-inflicted wounds. But there are no reasons for Caliper to be going through withdrawals. He has more than enough money to buy a constant supply of the drug, and dealers would line up for the chance to have a victor as a client.

I remember the many times when my mom would go off the drug. Withdrawals are a tough and frightening thing to see, let alone go through. Mom would be in bed, sweating so much I would have to wipe it away with a cloth every few minutes. She screamed and would clench my arm with such intensity that I have small half-inch long scars along my forearms from her digging her fingernails into my arm. But the thing that was the hardest thing to deal with was the self-wounding. I'd stay up all night watching her to make sure she wouldn't do it and if she tried I did my best to stop her.

I sent Clauria for bandages when the withdrawals began. We would trade soap that Clauria would sometimes make for the roll of bandages so we had them handy if mom did tear her arms open. She always did. Bleeding everywhere, her flesh exposed, but she continued to scratch even though her skin was long gone. Clauria would have to help me hold her down and bandage the wound up so she wouldn't bleed out. The first few times Clauria cried, seeing her mom like that, but after awhile she got used to it, we both did. I'd call for her and she would rush in with the bandages, I'd hold mom down well Clauria quickly wrapped up her arm.

We'd take turns watching her after that, but I always took the first watch. It was so that Clauria wouldn't have to sit in the room with her mother's blood all over her arms and clothes. I always did my best not to look at it, but I could feel it drying on my skin, tightening it. The smell of it also filled my nose. There was nothing more I wanted to do then to wash it all off, but if I turned away for a second mom would have gone back to tearing into her arm.

The two sit in the chairs across from us. For a moment it is silent as they observe us, occasionally leaning over to feel our arms or legs, checking our inner arms for any signs of morphling use, trying their best to determine how much of a chance we have in the arena.

"What are you good at?" Fascia asks, her voice heavy and crackles.

"I'm strong, I worked in the vehicle hob so I had to lift heavy tires and steel," I answer.

"What about weapons?" Fascia is almost inaudible.

"Never touched one before." I haven't. We had an axe that I would use to chop would for the fireplace and a knife to cut meat and other foods but that would hardly count as weapon experience. But this reply seems to lose the hopes of the two victors before me. Their eyes turn to Petro as if hoping that she has more promise then myself.

Petro doesn't respond, she gives a sigh. "I don't wish to answer in front of him."

"So trained separately?" Fascia asks, to which Petro nods her head.

Fascia stands up, taking Petro's arm. "I'll take her," Fascia says as she walks out of the room.

I feel like I had just been punched. Fascia and Tressa are two of the most respected and desirable victors in our district and Fascia just passed me up for a 14-year-old. Walked past me like I was nothing. And by the looks of Caliper, he is not to eager to have me as the person he is in charge of either.

"You're fit, you got muscle," Caliper says. "But that won't be enough for you to win. You need to get better at a weapon. In training, you need to practice as much as you can."

"Why was Petro the better choice?" I ask.

"Excuse me," Caliper responds.

"You and Fascia seemed to want to train her, that she was the best chance at winning."

Caliper lets out a sigh as he scratches his head. "She is thinking about the game. You just told her your strengths and weaknesses. You aren't thinking too much."

He was right. I just blurted out important information in front of competition without even hesitating.

Caliper and I talk for a little bit longer before he sends me to my chambers. A large open room with a massive bed, big enough to fit at least 4 people. There is a small seating area as well and a weird station where I can touch a screen and order anything from food to massages. The bathroom is even fancier than anything I ever saw back in District 6. A large shower that has warm and cold running water, something we didn't have back at our house. There is a machine that blow dries your body within seconds and the mirror has a built-in television that shows what is being broadcasted in the Capitol.

I find the closet and change out of my black attire, being careful to fold it up and set it nicely on a chair so that it doesn't get ruined. I feel the fabric of the clothes presented before me. Soft, new, and expensive. They seem to have both options of Capitol wear but also clothes that seem to represent my district, what the wealthy normally wear. I place on a white shirt with a gray cardigan, the baggy kind that I always saw young 20-year-olds wear in the richer parts of the district. The cardigan is longer on the back and brushes against the tight black pants. Finally, I slide a wool toque onto my head. The wealthy usually wear hats, flat caps, sun hats, ascot caps, and toques are the more popular choices. All of which are presented before me. I have always wanted a toque though and love the feeling of the material against my head.

Supper is an eight-course meal. Frothy soups, lamb, cakes, salads, a constant supply. Some of which I have tried when Markos brought some to the district, but a lot of it brand new to me. I can't help but stuff mouthful after mouthful into me. After I am done I can hardly hold another bite. Petro, even though never having missed a meal, seems to indulge herself a little too much on the dessert which is a tall cake with a chocolate crumb bottom.

After, Volmnia whisks us into the den where there is a massive television set up for us to watch the recap of the Reapings. I make sure to really study each person that is chosen, to make up for my earlier negligence for the game. Petro and Fascia sit on one side of the room, seeming to whisper to one another on strategies and who is tough and who is weak. Caliper does little to aid me in the breakdown of the Reaping.

I watch a tall, muscular woman leap out to volunteer in District 1, given her name as Amethyst. District 1 tributes always seeming to have rather odd names. District 2 gives very strong fit tributes as well.

I watch our own Reaping. Petro being called, her collective walk to the stage. I didn't see it before but from the corner of the screen, you can see her family burst into tears. Then it is me. How I hesitate, the screams of my mom which even now sends chills down my spine, my slow but steady walk to the stage where Clauria screams and tries to get to me, only for a peacekeeper, whom I now know was Markos, stop her and carry her away. Then we shake hands and brought into the hob. It gives a weird feeling seeing it on the television, an almost slap in the face that checks me back into reality. This is real, I'm really going into the Hunger Games.

The Reapings continue with a girl from 7 who almost smiles at being chosen for the games. Another from District 8 who looks confused at being chosen but then excited. A 12-year-old from District 9, which is always hard to watch, he mounts the stage with tears in his eyes and no one volunteers for his spot. Then two from District 12 who seem shocked and confused from being chosen. The anthem plays and the screen goes dark.

"Welp time for bed," Volumnia claps her hands together as she stands up, "Tomorrow you two will be in the Capitol and I want you both to look your best." She walks away, her long dress dragging against the velvet carpet.

It isn't hard to fall asleep, rather quite easy. The bed is the softest thing I have ever touched. And the blankets are thick and provide instant warmth, unlike the old raggedy blanket back home which did little to keep you heated during the long cool nights back in District 6. I close my eyes, hug a pillow, and slowly drift off.