The cold water splashes onto my soft skin, my fingers glide onto the handles and turn off the flowing water. The stylists have just left after pulling me into my dress for tonight. In a few hours, all the tributes will begin their interviews with Caesar Flickerman on live television, and being the grandchildren of the president of Panem, my presence is required.
I have an hour to spare until we are called down to the front door to head to the Ceremony Hall. I pace around my room, my bare feet making creeking noises as it makes contact with the wooden floor. I look around my room and examine every detail. Across from the doorway is my Victorian-style bed with its green lace covers, reminding me of the color of the leaves in the woods. On the left is the door to the bathroom, my wooden dresser filled with clothes and a closet with dresses and shoes next to it. On the right, a big window, ceiling to floor, showing the beautiful rose garden, dark purple curtains drape on the sides. Paintings of forests hang on the walls, the most Snow can do to remind me of home, one painting above my bed is the portrait of my family from the living room wall of our wooden house in District 7.

The painting made on my fourth birthday, everyone wearing casual clothes. My jet black hair is pulled up into a ponytail with my freckles scattered across my smiling face as my piercing grey eyes look at Marcus, Zayn carrying me ontop of his shoulders. Marcus' short brown hair is combed to the side, his dark brown eyes looking back at me with a grin. Zayn's curly dark brown hair is a mess on his head as Zakora smoothes her hand ontop of it with a smirk. Zayn and Zakora's brown eyes meeting each other, Zayn's fingers entangling into Zakora's black hair. My father, as well as Marcus, his short brown hair is combed as his arm is wrapped around mom's waist, planting a kiss on her cheek as Marcus and dad have their arms on the other's shoulders. Mom's black hair wrapped in a braid as her grey eyes look at my father as she shows a warm smile, her right hand on his chest. Dylan's wavy black hair flows to the side, his grey eyes looking up at me, his elbow on Zakora's shoulder with a grin covering his face. The family in the painting seems perfect, loving, the kind any child would ask for.

The warm glow is unrecognizable to me, this once perfect family, now broken and damaged. A tear falls from my eye, I wipe my eyes gently, stopping myself from getting teary. I wrap my arms around my waist and walk to the dresser.
I grab a tissue and look at myself in the mirror, dabbing my cheeks from the water trying to escape my eyes. I set the tissue down and look at myself in the mirror, look at the room behind me in the reflection. This isn't where I belong, not even close. Nothing here reminds me of home, not even the family painting, it tortures me, leaving me to wonder how it could have been.

I set the tissue on the counter of the dresser and look up and see the Avox in the corner where she always is. But instead of keeping her focus on the floor, awaiting for a call of assistance, she is looking up.
I look from the mirror to look at what she is seeing. Her sad eyes are on the painting, as if she has seen it before and brings back thoughts. A streak of water has fallen from her eye, a small smile curls on her black-lipstick lips. I turn around quickly to face her and I start to walk to her, she suddenly lowers her eyes back to the floor but she knows I have seen her. As I move closer, her feet start to shift as if she is nervous, I slowly make my way infront of her and she gives up her focus from the floor. Her eyes slowly look up to meet mine and I look at her face. Her red hair looks obvious that it has been dyed, black streaks come from the crown of her head, her pale face has been powdered to look like so, but her eyes have not changed their appearance.

They are still how they must have looked before, piercing grey eyes. I look into them and turn my head towards the painting and I look back at her with a gasp. A tear rolls down my cheek.

"Mom?"