My name is Katniss Mellark, I'm 16 years old and I'm the daughter of a baker. My mother hates me and my father loves me. My brothers, Adrian and Rye, don't really care about me and I don't mind that. I'm a District 12 tribute for the 74th Hunger Games. I'm in love with Peeta Everdeen and all of Panem know. I belong to the Capitol. I'm preparing to kill innocent children. I don't want to die.

Great. Just great. I had just gone and admitted my undying love for my fellow tribute in front of thousands of strangers. After both our awkward interviews, I kicked a plant pot over as a scarlet faced Peeta cautiously entered the room and put a warm hand on my shoulder.

"Look, Katniss." He hesitated. "I think what you said was brave... A brave thing to admit." His words were dry and coarse. I bowed my head in shame, bracing for the let down of rejection. "And... I like you too." His round grey eyes stared at me, intensely delivering a smoky, dead sexy atmosphere.

"Just as friends though, right?" I sighed. I clenched my jaw to stop myself from showing any proper emotion as Peeta began to rub my back. Without general awareness, his lips were upon mine. I hastily pulled away, surprised.

"Couldn't stop myself. Sorry." Peeta smirked. What?! He liked me back! I shyly nodded and Haymitch opened the door and beckoned with his hand to me.

"Nice one." My mentor said, impressed. "Beautifully executed star crossed lovers performance, my young volunteer." I couldn't help but get a strong feeling of sarcasm that lingered with the stench of booze on his breath. I rolled my eyes and ignored him as he lead me down a corridor. "The games are tomorrow and you have to keep this act up." Haymitch exaggerated the word 'act'.

"This isn't an act, Haymitch." I grumbled, angrily. How dare he pass my true feelings off as a melodramatic display. "I really love him." I whispered, dangerously close to tears.

"Well, whatever it is, continue." He dismissed me into my room and a set up my temporary bed for a long, sleepless night. I tried so hard to sleep but all I could think about how I was most likely going to die tomorrow. I guess this is what those people in our ancestors time on 'death row' felt like.