David could barely make himself go the reapings. He couldn't go without having flashbacks of when he was 18 and the games were more real to him than they had ever been. Paul almost won that year. He was in the last three. David remembered how selfish he felt, wishing and praying for the two other competitor's deaths. He had to constantly remind himself that Paul's death wasn't a punishment for that. Now, the reapings just served as a disgusting reminder of the day Paul was called up. David saw his face in every person called to battle. He had stopped worrying about if he was going to get called. It seemed to unlikely and cruel to actually happen that two close friends would get chosen to participate in the massacre that the twisted minds of the government called the hunger games. David wasn't usually so hateful. He tried to live his life with whatever optimism he could muster and enjoy everything he could, but forcing people to kill each other for sport, a sport that took away his best friend, was something that turned him dark.

"Raff Hoffman." David didn't know him, but from the looks of it he was in his thirties. David looked closer and saw that Raff was holding a little girl's hand. Oh, he was a father. The games were so sickening. That little girl would have to watch her father die, most likely. Even if he lived, he wouldn't come out as the same person. The woman on the stage congradulated Raff, as if it was a gift. David's stomach churned.

"And for the ladies, Maggie O'hara!" Without even thinking, David's hand shot up.

"I volunteer!" He proclaimed. Maggie was in her late 50s, she couldn't fight. She was a sweet old lady. David had been looking after her for a few years because she couldn't work. They had grown pretty close. She was lonely. Her daughter moved to a different district a few years ago, but she rarely talked about it. She had consoled David a lot through his loss of a friend, and he had filled the role of someone to take care of for her. He wasn't going to let her die. People gasped, they weren't used to people stepping up to what was essentially suicide. No one from nine ever volunteered, not in six years. And then, before that, not in David's lifetime. Six years ago it was Paul, going in place for his little brother. Maybe what David was doing was honoring him, in a way.

He kept his eyes on the ground on his way up. He didn't want to see any eyes of pity, especially not from Mrs. O'hara. He knew she'd visit him after the pageantry was over, but maybe she would have gotten over the shock by then. Being given a death sentence then having someone take it from you was a lot to take in, and she was a caring person. Hopefully someone else would be there to hold her hand through the games, he didn't want her to watch him die with no one to help her. And he was going to die, there wasn't a lot of speculation about that. He wouldn't kill anyone, it didn't matter the circumstance. He's avoid death as long as he could, long enough to find some peace with his end, and then he'd be killed. It scared him, but he'd take that any day over becoming what he saw his friend become over the course of two weeks.