Edit- Yup. Same story here. Must look closed at those labels before I hit save...

For the first time in as long as I can remember, I actually listen to the words I chant at the Training Center, suddenly aware that they might not be as true as I thought they were.

"I will kill without remorse."

Fairly straightforward. This is what a Career is meant to do. I guess it's wrong, but…

"I will bring honor to my District."

In District 1 at least, it's considered an honor to become a victor. I don't know about anywhere else, but we want that honor here. More than anything. More than safety, more than even the money that we get. Well, some of the time.

"No pain is too great for the enemy to suffer."

I have an uneasy feeling in my stomach. The gruesome deaths, the most painful, are the best. To Careers anyway. But…is it inhumane to torture before death? I startle. Inhumane? I don't think I've ever even used that word before, much less applied it to the Hunger Games. I swallow hard and keep chanting.

"No pain is too great for me to overcome.

Is this the truth? I mean, I lost Glimmer and it almost sent me over the edge. I don't think this is the kind of pain that they meant, but in the end it's the same thing. I couldn't take it. I broke down. I'm not as strong as I thought. My heart beats harder, faster.

"The losers are nothing."

Not true. Not true. If Glimmer meant nothing, would I be thinking these thoughts now? Would Illy have bounced into training today with a lag in her usually bouncy walk that only I noticed? I just can't believe that. It's not true. This of all things isn't true. I swallow hard.

"The Capitol is benevolent."

Are they? I mean, I've always thought they were, but what is benevolence, really? Is it kindness? If so, then they most certainly aren't. Even in training, we were never taught that the things we did were kind. In fact…

"We are superior."

We had a right to do them, or so we were taught. The District kids (we always thought of ourselves as separate from the lesser Districts, and never counted ourselves as part of those "District children") were scum and they didn't deserve any better than to die by our weapons.

My head is swimming. As soon as I bring in the idea of the Hunger Games being wrong into my head, everything falls down.

Why do we kill without remorse? Because it's the Hunger Games.

Why don't the losers matter? Because they were defeated in the Hunger Games.

Why are we superior? Because we are trained to compete and excel in the Hunger Games.

That mantra was our most core set of beliefs, on which everything else was founded. If it is untrue, then so is everything else I believe. I think I'm going to be sick.

I'm in a daze for the rest of the lesson, during which our instructor has decided to take to go through Marvel Nictate's every mistake leading up to his death in greater detail than necessary. We've heard it all before. Everyone makes the same old mistakes in new combinations in the Hunger Games. Very seldom is anything truly new. When the classroom session is over, I drift out into the main floor. Silk's not here today, so I chat mindlessly with some of the other guys.

Okay. Okay, Lightning. Get a grip. You need to make some choices here. This is wrong. This is all evil. Damn. Okay, okay, come on. Focus.

I'm not thinking about the words coming out of my mouth. For all I know I'm saying, "Troll and mountain garbage can is oven mitt microwave doesn't work". Which, believe it or not, is what Rock Milstren said after Expensive Jurthey hit him over the head with a fifty pound weight. Man, she was a bitch. I'm glad she died last year. It would have been torture having to deal with her if she'd won.

Wait a second, focus!

"Uh, I'm going to go check the Games footage. Be right back," I say to Steel and Blade. They say something unimportant and I duck out of the wrestling stands, where we'd been watching two of the eighteen-year-olds demonstrate new moves. They'll teach me later, I'm sure. And they won't hold back, either.

I do head to the TV room, but I don't really watch. It's some pretty snow footage of Cato and Clove; they're just talking and planning, not actually killing anybody.

Oh, snow. Career lingo, sorry. It means boringly nonviolent.

I drop my head into my hands. "Boringly nonviolent". I'm doomed aren't I?

I look at the screen. I envy those two; they have no fear, no questions about the things they do. But then again, neither do I. I know that I shouldn't do this. I know that this is totally cruel and immoral. My real question is: Is that reason enough for me to change, or am I too selfish? It would be easier to ignore this discovery and go back to my old way of life. I could do it, I'm sure. Just like Illy said when she cried on my shoulder.

That's what steels me, finally. It's the image of my little sister, sobbing because she doesn't know if she's allowed to miss Glimmer or not. That should never have had to happen. This has got to change.

I clench my fists, digging my fingernails into the cloth of my pant legs. That's it then. I can't do this anymore. But I can't just stop being a Career; my parents won't let me do it. So I need to keep going to training to fool Sir and Ma'am. And I can't do or say anything that will betray the fact that I've given up on being a Career during training. That could easily lead to Reform. I shudder. There's hasn't been a reform for as long as I've been training, but I've heard the horror stories. It's something that Career parents will assign "wayward" children, like me, with the help of trainers. It's a brutal form of brainwashing. It has a 100% success rate, technically. Nobody is against being a Career when they get out. Because they either let you out totally broken and obedient, or dead. Kids have starved to death before, and bled out. It's only the really desperate or cruel parents that are willing to Reform their children. And the worst thing is: I'm not at all sure that Ma'am and Sir wouldn't attempt it.

I rub my arms, trying to smooth the goose bumps that have risen on my shoulders. The Reform is something no one ever speaks about. Heck, most of us even try not to think about it too hard. I don't know exactly how the knowledge filters down to us, but it's there. And I know for a fact that the Reform is every Career's worst nightmare. It's not so much the pain or the Hunger or the fear, it's the helplessness. When you're Reformed, they take control of you. Fighting back is futile, and it always has been.

So getting caught is not an option for me. No. I can't let anyone know. Illusion and Richie wouldn't turn me in to our parents on purpose, but they're way too young to trust such a huge secret to. Queen would probably love seeing the Reform beat me into a submissive little pulp. And telling Fame is as good as telling Queen. No, I can't tell any of my siblings. What about the guys? No, they're my friends, but I don't doubt that some of them, or all of them, are well trained enough to turn me in as well. I can't tell the guys. But I'm going to drive myself insane if I try to do this on my own. But what about Silk? She's probably my absolute best friend. She's never done exactly what was wanted of her; she refused to become empty-headed and stupid like most of the girls. I begin to feel a flutter of hope. Yes, Silk can help me cover. I ignore the part of me that points out that she's a born and bred Career. I have to be able to trust Silkiness, of all people.

I stand, resolve quickening something in my blood. My stomach sinks. In all my planning and paranoia, I'd mostly forgotten the fact that I'm still a Career, still violent. I shove the matter to the back of my mind. I'll cross that bridge when I come to it.

Silk's not here today, which means she's probably at home with a cold or something, although it's not cold season. But anyway, I need to find her. I push out the door to the TV room. The guys won't care. They're learning some kickass new moves. They'll just tell me how much I missed out on is all.

As I approach the door to the Training Center, I hear a growing disturbance behind me. I'm pulled by curiosity to one of the hand-to-hand mats, where a pair of small boys are fighting. As he grabs the other boy by the throat and starts throttling him, I realize one of them is Riches.

"TAKE THAT BACK, YOU BASTARD! I'M GONNA KILL YOU!" Riches screams. My eyes widen. At nine years old, Richie's not very taken to swearing. The fact that he's doing it is a bad sign. Lot of Careers threaten to kill each other, but nobody takes that seriously. That would get you in jail forever. I wait nervously amidst the catcalls and cheers for Richie to let go of the other boy, because it's obvious that he's won this fight. But he doesn't. I don't think anyone realizes that the boy's face is turning blue. I don't think they realize Richie is killing him.

I run forward and pull my brother off of him. The boy gasps and coughs, almost in tears. I shove Riches to the ground.

"What do you think you're doing, Riches?" I shout at him

"He said Glimmer was a stupid whore and that you and Illy and Queen and Fame were all going to die too! I'm going to kill him!" He howls. He launches himself at the boy, a younger kid that I don't recognize, and I pull him back again. Then Riches whips out a switchblade, and I can tell that talking to Silkiness is going to have to wait.