I wake up in the morning to a sharp knocking on my door. Persei is waking me up for breakfast, demanding I get out of bed and get dressed before we arrive in the Capitol. She says I must eat otherwise I may not have anything to eat until after the opening ceremony. Persei doesn't seem to realize that I can go for days without eating, though I will humor her and at least eat a piece of fruit. Might as well eat something when it is right in front of me. I only have so many days left to enjoy things like breakfast.

Since I have no change of clothes with me, I walk in wearing exactly what I was wearing yesterday. My reaping day dress is wrinkled in a few places, but it isn't very noticeable unless you are standing directly next to me. I have braided my hair and fastened it with a clip. I suppose it doesn't matter much what I look like at the moment. My stylist will make me over as soon as we arrive in the Capitol for the ceremonies tonight.

Everyone else is already seated around the table when I walk in, covering my mouth to suppress a yawn. Knot has piled his plate high with as much food as possible while Will is examining the sloshing bottles of liquor lining the carriage window. Noah is sitting in a chair in the corner, attempting not to pay attention to anything going on. This can't be easy on him. I am only a few years younger than him and will be another kid he has to do his hardest to train, only to watch them die. That is the silver lining in all of this. Once I die, I'll never have to deal with another hunger games, and neither will any of my family. They will all be safe after this.

I sit down at the table to the left of Will's empty seat and put a few pieces of food on the plate in front of my. To my surprise, I am actually quite hungry. I end up eating more than I had planned to, but this is a good thing. I can use as much fattening up as possible before being sent into the arena.

I can't help but want to eat. All the food here is so yummy and delicious. My body isn't used to so much food that tastes so good so I have had a stomach ache since last night, yet I still force another slice of bacon into my watering mouth.

"Slow down sweetheart. That food's not going anywhere. There'll be plenty more once we arrive in the Capitol." I look up and see Will eyeing me with amusement.

I know it is childish and petulant, but I eat another piece of toast just to spite him. Of course, a wave of nausea hits me as I do so, but I refuse to let it show on my face. Even to my team, I want to appear strong. I know I am the opposite of that, but I need to at least come off as somewhat intimidating to give myself a chance of lasting through the bloodbath that typically opens the games.

Will just rolls his eyes while Noah stares out the window of the train, looking bored. I haven't seen him show any kind of emotion once since we boarded the train, though maybe that is his way of coping with everything. Will has his rum, Noah has his apathy.

I get up from the table and move to the seat beside Noah, joining him in staring out the window as the train breezes through Panem, the Capitol growing closer and closer. He glances over at me for a moment, a desolate look in his eyes. Without saying a word, he holds his hand out to me, and I take it without a second thought. Noah Puckerman is not the enemy. He's only 18, and he is once again being forced to send someone his age to be killed. A girl. Me.

Noah squeezes my hand lightly as the train enters the Capitol and I am oddly comforted. I can't say I know him from anyone else in our district, but right now he is all I have. He is my only chance of getting home to Blaine and Cooper, and his hand is kind of warm and nice to hold. I look out the window at the crowds surrounding the station, and I feel my stomach flip. They are shouting my name, calling for me, but instead of leaning my head out the window to greet them, I turn my face away, a distinct shade of red coloring my cheeks.

That makes Noah laugh, a deep throaty sound that comes out of his mouth, which only makes me blush more. "Keep blushing," he murmurs in my ear as we get up and exit the train. "It will make you seem sweet and innocent. God knows I have to do my best to make you come across as innocent," he says quietly. I know what he is trying to say. Around district 8, it is no secret about what girls like me spend my nights doing.

The chain-link fence is cold as I press my back against it, the wind rustling through my dark hair. Every time I am out here, I wish I had worn something warmer, but I never do. You get more money if you wear less clothing.

Tonight, the short, tight skirt I am wearing is not helping me stay warm. It is nearing November and temperatures drop into the forties each night. Yet, I go out after Blaine has gone to bed in a mid-drift baring top and tight skirt paired with thigh-high boots. I have a small jean jacket on as well, but it doesn't help with much.

I just hope someone shows up soon so I am able to get out of the cold. The possibility that I might be standing here all night without any takers is not a pleasant thought.

There are four of us out here tonight. On weekends, there are more, but since it is only Wednesday, only those of us who are truly desperate for the extra money work. If Blaine knew where I was, he would drag me back to our apartment by my hair. Of course, it is the money I earn at night that puts food on the table and allows us to afford our home. Without it, we would be on the streets starving. I refuse to let that happen to us.

We call ourselves women of the night, though most of us are still girls. I'm sixteen, yet I'm not even the youngest. Coco, the newest girl to join our club, is only fourteen. There are the older girls too, the ones who are now in their twenties, but there are lots of men in district 8 who likes the younger girls like me.

Michael Armani, the older brother of a boy I attend school with, is one such man. He's nearing 30, yet he prefers his girls under 18. The men who come to us are all rich. Factory owners, designers, peacekeepers. Hell, I once spent the night with our mayor. When you have everything you could ever need, you can afford to buy a woman for the night.

Or a girl.

Armani typically only shows up on the weekends, so it is a bit unusual to see him tonight. However, he's dressed in a suit like usual and we can see the bulge in his pocket where he keeps the money he will pay whatever girl leaves with him. This is the worst part. He looks the four of us over, grinning because he knows he has the power right now. He's choosing who gets to leave the cold, who gets extra money for food tonight.

He stops in front of me, his arm extending so his palm is resting on my cheek. "Shall we?" he says, and I nod my head, pushing off the fence so I am standing closer to him. I take his arm and let him lead the way.

Each night, I feel another part of me slip away, another part of me die. But people do what they have to do to survive.

Yes, any innocence I ever had was lost once I started spending my nights working the streets. I know Noah is going to instruct me to keep that part of me hidden, but sometimes things like that come out.

I clutch Noah's arm as I walk off the train, the flashes of the cameras blinding me momentarily. People are calling to me, but they come from all directions that I don't know which way to look. Instead, I force myself to smile and look around as I walk towards the building that will be my home for the next few weeks while I train.

I am led inside and instantly whisked away from Knot. I see him and Will head in the opposite direction of Noah and I. A group of people is waiting for me. There is one smaller man who is surrounded by three tall, statuesque women. This is my stylist and his team, ready to make me over for the tribute parade tonight.

The man walks forward, a grin on his face. He isn't much bigger than I am. He's petite, especially for someone from the Capitol. His auburn hair is expertly styled and, unlike most Capitol residents who choose to dye their skin colors like lavender and lime green, his skin is only slightly tanned. His teeth are a blinding shade of white, and his clothing clings to his body.

"Oh, I knew I was lucky when I saw you walk up on stage at your reaping," he gushes, pulling me away from Noah and placing both his hands on my shoulders. "Such natural beauty. Though you are a bit thinner than I thought, though no worries. Aphrodite will just take the dress in a bit once we get it on you."

I look up at him, confusion etched across my entire face. His is already leading me away into a smaller room where I suppose he will do a more thorough inspection of me.

"Oh how horrid of me," he laughs, closing the door behind us. "I'm Kurt, your stylist. I'm always forgetting introductions, especially when I'm all excited like I am now. But you really can't blame me. I've been waiting for this day for months and months. It's my first year as a stylist for one of the districts, you see. I have so many wonderful ideas."

"Lucky you, getting stuck with us winners in district 8."

"I asked for district 8. You may have one of the lowest chances of winning, but there's so much I can do for you. Besides, district 8 has the most beautiful women in my opinion," he adds. "Though I wouldn't take my opinion on things. I tend to like my mates with a little less breasts and a little more muscle."

A little less-oh! I blush as the realization hits me, which just causes Kurt to laugh again.

"Yes, that. So if you happen to know any attractive single guys, send them my way," he jokes, letting down my hair. "You have such a lovely color to your hair. I think if we add lots of waves to it, it will frame your face nicely." He seems to be talking to himself as he walks in circles around me, nodding occasionally. "Perfect!" he finally exclaims. "Yes, I think this will all turn out nicely. You're going to be the talk of the tribute parade, I just know it!"

"Sorry, but why exactly am I going to be that?" I ask, tucking a loose strand of hair behind my ear.

"You mean besides the fact that I'm a genius?"

"Naturally."

Kurt laughs again. "Well, for starters, you are a stunner. And second, because I really am a genius. I know in come years they've dressed the tributes as a needle and thread or something ridiculous like that. Not this year. I'm embracing that most of your residents work in clothing factories. You're going to show everyone what amazing things district 8 can make. But first, let's make you up!"

The next hours pass by in a blur. My styling team pokes and prods me as I am scrubbed down from head to toe, any traces of dirt and grime gone from my body. Kurt has instructed them to return me to what he calls "Beauty Base Zero." Then, he can get a good look of what he really has to work with before I am fully made over.

I feel very exposed when my team is finally finished. My hair has been combed and washed but not styled. My nails are cleaned, cut, and shaped, but not colored. My face is clear of blemishes but not made up. I am given a paper gown to wear while I sit and wait for Kurt to walk back in and assess me.

He strolls in after a few minutes of waiting, two cups of something clenched in his hands. He passes one to me and I inhale the scent. It's warm and intoxicating. Hot chocolate. I've only ever had it once in my life and as I recall, it tasted like heaven. I greedily drink the rich substance down, my eyes on Kurt as he watches me with interest.

Once my cup is empty, he makes me completely undress as he once again assesses what he has to work with. I try not to feel self conscious, but after 20 minutes of him circling me and clicking his tongue, I finally lose it.

"I'm sorry if my body isn't quite up to your standards," I snap, crossing my arms over my bare breasts, my brows furrowed in frustration. "Not all of us in district 8 can look like fashion models."

Kurt laughs and shakes his head. "You're perfect. You're everything I could have wished for in a tribute, especially that spunk you have. Come, let's make you look fabulous."

"Oh, wow," I whisper as I look at myself in the mirror. I've been in the prep room for hours on end as my entire body was made over. Finally, once it was all done, Kurt helped me into the costume he designed for me.

I am in awe. It's a floor length gown, pale pink in color, though it looks like I am dressed in little scraps of cloth. Tiny squares of fabric are stitched together to make up the dress. When I move, the fabric moves with me. I am in love with Kurt.

Kurt is leading me towards the carriages, my hand on his arm. The heels he has placed on my feet are high and thin, making them very difficult to walk in. Kurt, however, has a strong grip on me, and refuses to let me fall in front of the other 23 kids who are currently plotting ways to kill me.

We find the carriage for district 8 where Knot is standing with his stylist, waiting for me to arrive. Knot is dressed in a black fitted suit. Like me, there are hundreds of pieces of fabric stitched onto it, giving us the appearance that we match.

Kurt and Knot's stylist, Rose, promise us they'll be in the audience before bidding us goodbye. The lights in the back have dimmed as everything is prepared for the parade. I look next to me at Knot. He's just a kid. A trembling, terrified kid. He reminds me of Beth, how scared she was when I said goodbye to her before she left for the Capitol.

I place my hand on top of his and give him a warm smile. "Hey, relax. They're going to love us," I promise. He gives me a weak smile in response before the music starts and the chariots start to move.

I grip the front rail for support and allow myself to smile as we head out. Our look may not be flashy or eye-catching, but we still look stunning. I will never question anything Kurt does, not when he made me look like this.

People are shouting my name, calling to me. I turn my face towards them and give them a dazzling smile. To some, I even blow a kiss, which just makes them cheer louder. The chariot eventually comes to a stop in the front of the arena. The anthem of Panem plays and President Snow walks out onto his balcony, waving to all the citizens of Panem. After all, this is being broadcast live to the entire nation.

The president makes his speech, stating the purpose of the hunger games before closing the opening ceremonies. After this, we will all go to our compartments in the training building, our homes for the next few weeks until we are transported to the arena for the games.

Once the chariots file out and we are in the back once more, surrounded by our stylists, mentors, and of course, Persei.

"You two were magnificent our there!" Persei says excitedly as Noah helps me down from the carriage, his left hand lingering on the small of my back for an extended moment before he lets me go.

I look up at him, confusion etched across my face. "Well, we should head up. Your training starts tomorrow. You need to be well rested," he finally says, turning away from me. We ride up to floor eight in silence, Persei chattering mindlessly as we do.

Dinner is laid out for us when we arrive, and I don't realize how hungry I am until my stomach growls. I change into a simple nightgown before sitting down at the table, eating in silence. That simple touch shared between Noah and myself, I keep thinking about it. How his hand lingered on my waist longer than necessary, how he's always looking at me, how I can't help the way my face heats up or my heart beats when he's close to me.

No, this is the last thing I should be thinking about now. I need to be thinking about survival, not the dimples on my mentors face. But I can't. I can't stop thinking about him and the way he looks at me.

After dinner, I make my way to my room, desperate to be alone. The others are still out in the main area, but I can't be there with them. I can't listen to them start to strategize about the games. I don't even want to think about it. I just want this to be over.

I lie in bed for hours, wanting sleep to come, but it doesn't. Instead, I toss and turn for hours before giving up. Sleep isn't going to come, and I know that. Instead, I grab a blanket off my bed and wrap it around myself, quietly exiting my room. Our quarters are silent and dark, all doors closed with their occupants sleeping. I head for the door that leads to the roof, walking up the stairs. I walk out, breathing in the cool air and letting out a sigh of relief. This right here, this feels like home.

I miss my apartment. I miss Blaine and our mornings together and how we just laugh when they shut our air off every other week. I miss district 8, something I never thought would happen. But being up here on the roof, it's like being back in district 8. It's a lot nicer here, of course, but it's a city. I hear the noises from below which comforts me.

"Oh, I didn't realize someone was up here." I turn and find myself staring into the eyes of Noah Puckerman, my mentor. "Couldn't sleep?"

I know I shouldn't be alone with him, that I should avoid him as much as possible when my heart keeps going into overdrive around him, but I want to be up here. Besides, he's the only person who I feel comfortable telling about how I feel. He's been where I am before, he will understand.

I shake my head. "No, I keep trying to shut my eyes and sleep, but my head is full of so many thoughts that I just toss and turn."

Noah nods his head. "Yeah, I get it. I was that way too. I don't think I slept that much my three weeks here before the games started." I smile a little at that, though it doesn't reach my eyes. "How are you handling things?"

I shrug my shoulders. "I don't know. I keep telling myself that this is all a dream, that I'm going to wake up and be back in my bed in district 8, but I know it's not. I know I'm going to die here and leave my family more broken than they already are, and there's nothing I can do to stop it. They've already taken everything from me, why couldn't they have left me my life?"

Noah is frowning as he takes in my words but I don't stop. The gates have opened and the words keep pouring out.

"I know I can't fight. I know I'm a small, underfed girl who works a factory by day and sells her body by night. I know I'm nothing compared to the other tributes, that I'll be dead before the games really start. I just...I don't want to lose myself before that. I want to go out as the Rachel Berry I am, not the Rachel Berry the Capitol turns me into. I want to die as myself, not some stranger these games make me."

I look up, letting out a sigh once I have finished, and stare into Noah Puckerman's eyes. He is standing right in front of me, his face inches from mine. "Then don't let them, Rachel," he whispers, his lips brushing over mine. "Don't let them turn you into something you're not. Don't let them turn you into a piece of their games." He presses his lips against mine, his hands on my shoulders. He holds me close for a moment before releasing me.

I look at him, my face flushed. I don't know what to say. I don't know what to do. All I can do is stare into his eyes as Noah trips over his words, stepping back from me. "I, uh...I'll see you in the morning. Goodnight, Rachel."

He leaves the roof, leaving me alone once more. I stare out at the city lights, my fingers brushing over my lips, remembering how his lips felt on mine just moments before. I don't know what to think, but all I know is that maybe, just maybe, Noah Puckerman might be able to help me survive these games, even if he doesn't know it yet. Because deep inside me, he has stirred something. Not untapped strength or skills or anything like that. No, he's stirred something stronger.

A desire to live.