Maysilee POV

It takes a while for the shock to settle in.

Empty, hollow noises echo in my ears. My vision has blurred, and I blink as I watch Kava Romero's lips, coated in blood-red lipstick, repeat the words, "Maysilee Donner?"

Maysilee Donner. That's me, isn't it? And yet... This has to be a dream. Of all odds, it was four out of thousands. Thousands! But Marianne and Katherine's sobs feel real. My heart pounding a top speed feels real too. Henry, in my unfocused sight, is mouthing something that I can't make out. My mother is crying, her face buried in my father's chest.

Every pair of eyes in District 12 turns to me. And I can see it. Their eye, filled with pity. Already condemning me to die in that arena. Sizing me up, measuring my size to fit my coffin. I'm already dead.

Why? Because I'm from District 12. District 12, where tributes are the easiest and weakest prey, broken down to sniveling pieces of nothing just waiting to be hunted down by the Careers. Where, for as long as I've watched, our tributes have never lasted longer than a week. Because that's just who we are. We are District 12, and we are weak. That. Is. Precisely. Why.

I'm not weak, though.

I brush Marianne and Katherine off, and walk towards the stage, win or lose, this is the last time I'll stand in this town square, watching bawling kids being lead to their deaths. Is this what's happening to me too? Every step I take, is it one step closer to death?

Maybe. But until then, I cannot let my calm surface crack. I wordlessly mount the stage and before Kava Romero can speak, I grab the mic and say, I'm Maysilee Donner." My voice surprises me. It's clear and cool, and reveals absolutely nothing about my intense panic. I catch a glance of the screen projecting my image - my jaw is set, and there is no spark of fear in my eyes. That's good, then.

I refuse to take my eyes off the hills in the background. If I look into any face in the crowd, see the faces of the people I have lived with my entire life, and I will never meet again - I swear I will break down. I stare at the hills. Jet how many hours ago had I sat there laughing with my friends? If only I had known I'd never get to do that again. Never.

"Haymitch Abernathy." My mind snaps to focus. I blink once, mind clearing. A girl, no older than seven bursts into hysterical tears and scrambles frantically over the barrier towards the row if sixteen year olds, but the Peacekeepers hold her back effortlessly, ignoring her screams.

With only the slightest hesitation, Haymitch Abernathy steps out of his row and heads towards the stage. Haymitch Abernathy... Though I've only seen him a few times, he frequents in the conversations of the giggling girls in school. Apparently, he's quite the looker. And I have to admit, he kind of is. A head of unruly thick brown curls, and steady, sharp Seem eyes. Tall, with a rather toned body, not unite the sociable type, but popular in terms of gracing girls' fantasies(um, not mine.)

He takes his place beside the quivering Seem boy who was before him(which, of course, I had conveniently missed his name in my state). He, too, sets his eyes firmly into the distance. Even when we shake hands, his eyes, shining a bright grey, give away nothing.

The rest of the ceremony is a blur, I don't think the shock, my fate and my doom has quite set in yet, I'm simply numb, and the rest of the day flies past. Without realizing it, the ceremony is over.

Heyo guys:) sorry for not updating this in forever, hope you enjoyed this chapter:) more to come soon:D