I find myself becoming jittery at the reaping. My hands are shaking and the only thing keeping me from screaming is Helena's hand resting on my shoulder. I know I shouldn't be nervous, after all this is what I want, what I've wanted for so long. Not to mention that the continuous shaking of my hands makes me look weak and scared. I make a note to make the jittering stop as soon as I volunteer. I refuse to look like a fool in front of the entire country of Panem.

I've taken a spot near the end of the section of seventeen year old girls so that I can be prepared to run for the stage as soon as our capitol escort, Anais, asks for a volunteer. I know that I won't be the only female volunteering, and certainly not the largest. Some of the girls from District 2 are built like monsters, so hopefully my speed will be an advantage over them.

I already have one knee jutted ahead of me, prepared to sprint for the stage as Anais fishes around the bowl for the first female tribute. Her eyebrows, which are dyed a bright magenta, seem to almost dance as she smiles at the crowd.

"And our first female tribute is..." She says, pausing for dramatic effect. "Forsythia Roseburn."

I turn and see a young girl, maybe fifteen or sixteen years old, begin to walk up the stage. I can tell that she's trained, but she doesn't seem happy or eager like most trained tributes are. She seems depressed, and she's definitely tiny for her age.

"Now, hold on just a moment. Before I continue, are there any volunteers to take this young woman's place?"

It's like she's set off a bomb with her words. I instantly begin to sprint towards the stage, dodging volunteers that are at least twice as big as me, hurdling over young women fighting for the honor of becoming tribute. One girl, who looks to be about eighteen years old and has the build of an ox, comes charging at me, prepared to attack. Panicking, I scratch at her eyes and continue to run for the stage. I find myself grabbing the edge of the wooden stage and pulling myself up to be found lying on the floor next to Anais's feet. Looking up, I see Anais raising a magenta eyebrow at me, and I quickly pull myself up from the ground.

"My name is Andromeda Perro and I volunteer as tribute." I say the words loud and rushed, because the day has finally come. I've made it, and all I have to do is make it back out alive.

"Well, aren't you just a driven young thing?" Anais says, winking at me with bright blue eyes and purple eyelashes. "Everyone, welcome the first female tribute for the 75th Hunger Games: Miss Andromeda Perro!"

I feel nothing but happiness as Anais raises my arm to the crowd. I wonder if my father even knows that his daughter, whom he had longed to break ever since she'd been born, was a tribute for the 75th Hunger Games. I wonder if he even believes that I can become victor. I smile at the thought.

I'm forced to just stand there, no doubt looking like an idiot, as Anais fiddles around the bowl for the first male tribute, and then picks up one of the paper slips with her manicured, turquoise hands.

Clearing her throat, she says brightly into the microphone, "And our first male tribute for the 75th Hunger Games is... Avok Garringe."

And this time, before the young boy can even begin to walk up to the stage, Anais interjects with, "Are there any volunteers?"

This time it's like an even bigger bomb has exploded among the boys. They're much more vicious than the girls had been, and I swear that I can even see blood splattering across the main square's floor. Looking through the sea of vicious, fighting males I notice the boy that Helena had introduced me to at the flower shop, and I immediately see why he's had the honor of Helena's father as his trainer. He's clearly very strong and skilled in his fighting techniques, and viciously rips his way through the crowd, and it terrifies me. It almost terrifies me as much as my father terrifies me. He's already knocked out- or at least I hope they've only been knocked out- several large and trained eighteen year old boys with just his bare hands. It almost frightens me to imagine what he'd be like in the arena, with a weapon in his hands. It's a good thing I'm probably a lot quicker than this guy, and from the looks of it he might only be good at close combat, while I've been proven as almost an expert at combat from a distance.

I finish watching him slash his way through the crowd and run up the stairs, stepping in between Anais and I. Panting and looking slightly out of breath, he exclaims, "My name is Cato Monstrum and I volunteer!"

"Such a handsome young man." Anais proclaims, which I see only fuels Cato's already gigantic ego even more as he smirks in response. She turns toward the crowd with a magenta-toothed smile. "And there you have it, our first male tribute for the 75th Hunger Games."

She raises his arm up in the air, and I can see the proud and victorious expression on his face. He's clearly been waiting for this moment his entire life.

"Alright, now, shake hands." Anais says, waving a turquoise hand in our direction.

I turn towards Cato and he steps toward me, grabbing my hand roughly. His handshake is strong, firm. I try to imagine his hand wrapped around a sword with a three-foot blade. I notice that I haven't pulled away for at least ten seconds. I quickly pull my hand from his grasp and turn back toward the audience, where I examine the crowd. There's still two more tributes waiting to be reaped.

…...

The reaping is over and I'm waiting for friends and family to visit, while at the same time analyzing the other tributes that have been picked from my District.

First, there's Cato. His attitude pisses me off and he's more than twice my size. From what I've seen, I decide I want to avoid hand-to-hand combat with him in the arena. Then, there's Elaina Firman, the girl who's built like an ox and now has a giant gash across her eye, thanks to me. I haven't even gone to training yet and I've already made myself an enemy. And last, there's Avarus Wiley, the thirteen year old boy that hasn't stopped shaking ever since he's gotten reaped. So overall, not a completely horrible turnout.

I continue to sit on the white leather couch, fiddling with my thumbs, until a serious looking peacekeeper walks in, adorned in his white uniform. "You're father's here to see you."

I freeze at his words. I wasn't expecting this at all. I figured that he would still be at work and that he hasn't even found out that I've been reaped. But, knowing my father, he probably stayed home just so that he could visit me before I entered training. So that he could try to destroy me before I could even escape. But I wasn't going to give him the satisfaction of hurting me. Not today. Not on my day.

I gulp as my father walks into the room, dressed in his training uniform, the same one that he wore on the day of my mother's death.

"Just shut up, Andromeda! She's gone! Stop your crying!" He angrily throws the butcher knife at the kitchen wall. It sticks.

He gives a mocking sigh and sits down in a wooden rocking chair across from me, putting his dirty training boots up on the glass coffee table. "Well, well, well." He smirks his eerie smile again, not taking his icy blue eyes off of me. "Seems like Daddy's little girl is all grown up, ain't she?"

"I'm not coming back." Is all I can manage to say to him. I can't even look him in the eye, afraid that I'll burst into tears. Looking into those icy blue eyes only reminds me of what he did. To me. To my mother. To everyone that I had once loved. "No matter what you do, you can't break me anymore." I gain the courage to look into those icy blue eyes, which I see narrowing suspiciously at me, trying to gain access into my insecurities. I continue. "It's a win-win situation for me. If I die in those games, I get to be away from you. If I live, I still never have to see you again. You can't hurt me anymore." That's all I can manage to say.

Then, without another word, he simply gets up and leaves the room. I feel myself bursting into tears as soon as the door closes behind him. They aren't even exactly sad tears, more like proud tears, tears of freedom. I no longer have the burden that is my father weighing down on my shoulders, breaking me down, making me unfeeling. I'm free of his power over me.

Shortly after I've finished drying my tears, Star Mankard comes through the door, refusing to look me in the eye. "Hey" is all that she can manage to say before she starts to cry, making her mascara run down her face.

I get up from the couch and pull her into a hug. It feels a bit awkward, considering the only two people I've ever hugged in my life were my mother and Helena, but also comforting at the same time. It's nice to know that Helena's not the only person in this world that cares for me. It makes me feel less alone.

"Whatever you do, Andromeda," She whispers into my ear, her voice shaky, "Don't let anything stand in your way."

She pulls away from me and brings up her small, flower-patterned pocketbook. She takes out a silver ring with a bright purple gemstone in the center. "I want you to use this as your token." Star says, slightly blushing. "It was my mother's, before she died."

Up until now, I hadn't even known that Star's mother was dead. In fact, I guess I've never really known all that much about Star Mankard.

I nod in response as she slides the simple ring on my finger, which surprisingly fits perfectly. I like its simplicity and elegance.

"Bye." Is all she says before she's ushered out of the room by a peacekeeper and I wave after her.

The next, and last person, to come in is Helena, whose eyes are puffy and red from crying. I feel the guilt begin to rise up inside of me again, but I quickly push it back down. Feeling guilty about Helena isn't going to help me win the games and get back to her.

She takes me hand in hers and gives it a gentle squeeze. We both just begin to laugh, for no reason at all. I know that if anyone else was to be watching, they would think we were crazy. Here I am, a seventeen year old girl about to be whisked into a game where I would fight against forty seven other tributes to survive, and here I am, laughing like a maniac with my best friend. I don't know why, but the laughter comforts me, makes me feel like maybe things will be the way they used to be. Before my mom died. Before I began to know the monster growing inside of my father. The simple times, where I would go down to the creek with Helena and catch dragonflies. But deep down, I know those days are over. And I'm about to enter a game that I can't get out of. The Hunger Games.