I am forced to release her hand as we are escorted into the Justice building and put in separate rooms. I look down at my palm, and find myself kind of overwhelmed by the fact that Katniss had clutched it. She had held my hand like it was the only thing left she had to hold on to. Such a simple connection has sent my heart racing. The pounding against my chest forces me to take a huge breath, exhale, and close my eyes for just a second. When I open them, I look around the room. It's not huge, but it's luxury beyond anything I've ever seen. It has one plush sofa large enough to seat three or maybe four people, and an arm chair off to the side. The walls of the room are filled with books, hundreds and hundreds of books. I am wondering just how many books there are, when my father is steps in the doorway. For a long moment, I just look at my father. And as always, I allow my mind to stray from this moment in time. It's the way I avert from awkward goodbyes. The peacekeeper at his side gives me a nod and backs out the room.

Peacekeepers, they do exactly what their named for, keep the peace in the Districts. Although, all the ones in District 12 are corrupt. I know this because I see Katniss selling her game to them often. She hunts in the woods almost everyday to feed her family, and almost everyday I watch her walk past my home towards the Hob. Her and Gale sometimes come and sell squirrels to my father. Mother hates the things, but he always cooks them up whilst she's out, sometimes I eat them, too. I admire her skill, she always shoots the thing through the eye, sparing all the meat on the squirrels body. Hunting is illegal in District 12, even leaving the confines of the fence is illegal, I admire her. For the lengths she will go to keep her family alive, breaking dozens of laws and risking herself each day. If that's not courage, then I don't know what is.

Suddenly, I am pulled from my thoughts of Katniss as my father places his hand on my shoulder. "I know you'll do the right thing," He whispers. The right thing? What does he mean? He must notice the confusion registering on my face because he then says, "If you choose her, over yourself, I will be proud of you." I watch a tear form at his eye and slide past his nose. "I will miss you, so much. But I know that what ever you decide to do will be the right thing."

So, he is thinking exactly what I'm thinking, that I am going to sacrifice myself to ensure Katniss returns to her home. I am going to do everything in my power to keep her alive. And why would I ever consider any alternative? I life without her, however unbeknownst she may be to my love, would be tortuous. So it's inevitable. I will die to save her, and in turn, her family. I'd fail everything I believe in if I do not. I slump onto the centre of the sofa and press the palms of my hands into my eyes. I like it, all I can see is the inside of my eyelids and the red blotches appearing on them as I press harder. Swallowed by the darkness, the red seems much like blood. Mine, hers, others. All I know, is that there will be blood. I feel my father sit himself next to me, but I stay in the position I'm in. "Don't worry about me. Please, look after her sister and mother." I murmur.

"Of course I will." He replies. I didn't really need to ask. I knew that's what he would do, since he knows me so well.

Then, we just sit there in silence until the peacekeepers come and take him away. When I take my hands from my eyes my vision is blurred, but I can see him turn to face me just before he walks through the door, "I believe in you Peeta, don't ever forget that." and with that, he's gone.

Seconds pass and my mother pushes into the room, looks me up and down with an expression that I cannot decipher. Her blue eyes lock onto mine and she crosses her arms over her chest.

"Maybe District 12 will finally have a winner." She says, matter of factly. I am confused for a moment. Are my ears betraying me, or is she showing actual signs of belief in her son? Then she says, "She's a survivor that one."

Yes, of course, she didn't mean me, she meant Katniss. Even though I did not intend to win, I intended Katniss' victory, I was hurt. My own mother, practically wishing death upon me by showing her favour for another tribute.

"Thanks." I say sharply.

All she does is raise her eyebrow and say, "I suppose this is goodbye, then." When I don't reply, she turns to walk out the door. Before leaving, she looks back. Her eyes linger on me, and I see a flash of something in her eyes. Before I can decipher the expression, it is gone. My mother rebuilds her cold, hard shell. I hadn't expected anything else. It seems all her motherly love ebbed away when me and my brothers had grown to become teenagers. She was constantly miserable, and I was used to it. I expected nothing more. She leaves, and the door clicks shut behind her. At that point, I can't help but break down. I let a strangled noise leave my mouth and then I begin to cry. I don't care who sees, even when my brothers come in I just weep into Michaels shoulder, while he awkwardly pats my back.

Ben comes and sits on my other side, "Good luck, Peeta." I look up and wipe my eyes, which are sore and probably swollen. All I can do is nod and hug them both. We've never been very close, my brothers and I, but they both return my hug. Then, Ben removes a thick hemp bracelet from his wrist. "Wear this, as your token." He requests, I take the bracelet and sniff.

We are allowed one thing to take into the arena to remind us of home, and I will hold onto this bracelet tightly through the whole nightmare ahead of me. I say nothing, since I have nothing to say. How can I tell my brothers that I am positive I will never see them again?

The peacekeepers soon barge in and tell my brothers its time to go. As they leave the door, I see Gale, he's just passing by. It's obvious that he has just been to see Katniss as he's flustered and being pushed by the peacekeepers. He sees me looking at him, and he turns to the peacekeeper.

"Can I go in, just for a minuet?" He asks, his voice thick and heavy with some emotion a cannot gague, but the peacekeepers shake their heads and slam the door. Why did he want to talk to me? Probably to tell me to do what I intend to do anyway, die for Katniss.

There's no point wiping the tears from my eyes, they will still be puffy and red when the cameras film me. So when I am pulled from my seat and shoved into a car with darkened windows, I allow the tears to keep coming. I don't wail like a wounded animal. I sit quietly, letting hot tears roll down my cheeks and stain my shirt. I only manage to stop when I am stepping on to the platform of the train station and cameras are being pushed into my face from every direction. I stumble, but I am stopped to have my picture taken. Katniss is not far from my side, her face is blank, wiped of any emotion. I then feel weak, that she has stayed so strong and uncaring and I have been weeping. I bow my head until I am allowed onto the train. The train immediately begins to move, unbelievably fast. I remember once being stunned when told that these Capitol trains can travel at around 250 miles an hour.

When I finally notice my surroundings, I can see it's even more plush and expensive than the Justice Building. The luxury of that room I had said my goodbyes in is next to nothing compared to this train compartment. I see Haymitch, swaying as he tries to catch his balance after the train set off. I nod and say, "Maybe you should go and sleep off the drink." Haymitch looks at me, well, as best he can.

"Yes, maybe I will." Then he staggers off down the corridor. I watch him go, and wonder how on earth he won his Games. But of course, he wouldn't have been a drunk before then. There would be no need for him to drown out his nightmares. I think what becoming a Victor would do to Katniss. No Victor is entirely sane.

I am guided into a room, and I can't help but let my jaw drop. I forget all my worries at the point of time and admire the room in front of me. My chamber has it's own bathroom, a large bed with soft, clean sheets and pillows, a chest of drawers filled with luxurious clothes. I don't feel like changing, but my clothes are drenched in sweat, so I strip off, splash my face with cool water from the sink and dress in some comfy brown trousers and a grey shirt. I explore the room for sometime, and then Effie Trinket comes to collect me for supper. I follow her down the rocking corridors of the train and enter a room with a table.

"Sit, sit!" trills Effie Trinket, and waves to the seats around the grand table. I sit and pick up the plate in front of me, it's delicately painted with gold swirls. "I'll go collect Katniss." she says, and then she leaves the room. I try and relax, not wanting to come across as the weeping boy on the train platform again. Only a few minuets pass, and then Effie Trinket returns with Katniss trailing behind her. She has also changed, the dark green colour suits her and I only just manage to stop myself smiling, but I feel I might be blushing. I silently curse myself for being such an idiot.

"Where's Haymitch?" asks Effie.

"Last time I saw him, he sad he was going to take a nap." I say, then I look at my hands. I fiddle with the bracelet my brother gave me. I'd tied it much to tight around my wrist when he'd given it to me, and now I struggle to loosen it.

"Well, it's been an exhausting day!" Effie Trinket says. Her and Katniss sit down, my stomach does a somersault when Katniss takes her seat next to mine. Still these simple actions are causing me to loose my breath. I need to start adjusting, or I'll spend my whole time in the Capitol too dizzy to do anything.

The food beings to fill the table, firstly a carrot soup with salad, then lamb chops with mashed potatoes, cheese and fruit and then a magnificent chocolate cake. The cake is better than the ones my mother bakes, I smirk at the thought of her fuming when I criticise her cooking. The food being placed before us is delicious and a stuff myself. I have never felt so full in all my life, nor have I enjoyed a meal so much. The taste of the food almost entirely eradicates my feeling of self pity. Almost.

"At least you two have decent manners," sighs Effie Trinket, obviously she hasn't noticed me shoving forkfuls of food into my already full mouth. "The pair last year ate everything with their hands like a couple of savages. It completely upset my digestion." Well, I do know how to use a knife and fork, maybe that's what she means. Last years tributes had both been Seam kids, so the fact that they ate with their hands doesn't surprise me. And of course, the train meals would have been the most food they had ever seen. I continue to shove the meal down my throat, whilst Katniss decides to put down her knife and fork and consume the rest of the meal with her fingers. She knows just how to stiff things up. I hold back a laugh at Effie Trinket purses her lips.

It's not long until I regret stuffing myself with the food. At home, I eat little more than stale bread, and the rich Capitol food has upset my stomach. I hold myself together as we are guided into yet another expensively furnished room and sat down in front of a large screen. We watch the replay of the reapings in all 12 districts of Panem. I only notice three or four of the other tributes, the ones that stand out to me. A well muscled boy who volunteers immediately in district 2, accompanied by a tall and strong looking girl. A boy with a crippled foot from district 10 and a small, dark skinned, twelve-year-old from district 11. I feel a pang of upset when this wispy twelve-year-old stands alone on the stage whilst volunteers are asked for. When it comes to district 12, and Katniss jumping forward to take Prim's place, a rush of feelings run through me again. Haymitch stumbles forward and performs his head dive off the stage. Then I am reaped and we both shake hands. The Seal of Panem, and then the screen just shows static. Until we get to the Capitol, that is all I will know. I don't even remember the names of any of the other tributes. Frankly, I don't want to know them. I am going to be heavily exposed to them over the coming weeks, so I imagine that soon they'll be drilled into my mind, even though I do not want them to be.

Effie Trinket huffs, "Your mentor has a lot to learn about presentation! A lot about televised behaviour." She's referring to Haymitch and the way he acted at the reaping. There's nothing new, though. He's drunk all the time, and the Games are no exception. I think the dive off stage added at least a tiny bit of humour to the event, which I'd rather not mull over again. I push the reaping from my mind.

I just laugh, "He's drunk every year."

"Every day." says Katniss. I blush, because this is the first time she has directly replied to me.

Effie just hisses, "Yes, how odd you two find it amusing. You know your mentor is your lifeline to the world in these Games. The one who advises you, lines up your sponsors, and dictates the presentation of any gifts. Haymitch can well be the difference between your life and your death!" She sits back in her chair triumphantly, as if whatever she just said had settled a huge debate.

Then, as if on queue, Haymitch enters the compartment. "I miss supper?" He manages to say before he vomits all over the floor. The smell hits me almost instantly, and I gag on the scent of bile and alcohol.

"So laugh away!" sings Effie Trinket, as she jumps over the pool of vomit and leaves the room, leaving Katniss and I with a retching Haymitch.