The answer to my previous trivia question was: She was skewered through the neck by pink candy colored birds.

The receivers of those points were PuddingNinja who answered first and got six sponsor points. The following three each received four sponsor points: LouisVuittonluver

District Four

Jeanette Jone's point of view~

Do you ever get the feeling where you don't think you are good enough, that you could be better, but no matter what you do, you find yourself struggling, drowning just beneath the surface, salvation being so close that you can taste it, but it is snatched away from you before you can wrap your slender fingers around what you have been searching for? That is what it feels like to walk in my shoes, to be surrounding by those who think that the Games are right, that they are just, but they are all blind, their judgment clouded by the propaganda that is spoon fed to us from the time we are birthed into this world. That is what I grew up with, two parents that were cold and distant, wanting nothing more than a child who was born a victor, who would slay to reach the top, who felt no remorse, no regrets. I never could be her, this perfect picture daughter that they wanted so desperately. There was a time where I used to play pretend, that I would act like I was her, this strong, confident young woman, one who was ready to throw her life away, all for the glory, to have her name remembered amongst the whispers of history, but as I grew older I dropped the act, all because I learned the twisted fate of our race.

I remember the first time I ever watched the Games; I was appalled by what I saw. Young children running, screaming, fighting for their lives, my parents soaking in every minute of it, cheering for the tributes of District Four, wanting to see our home District bring home another victor, but all I did was close my eyes and wait for it to be over. Even then however, I would play pretending, acting the part as if I was an actress in a movie, I was enthusiastic about training, pouring my heart into it, but when I got a little older I started to see how pointless it all was. What was the point in shedding the blood, the sweat, and the tears? I never saw in any point of it, it was all to feed this empty dream that my parents forced upon me, but when I got my eyes I could really see, just how barbaric our race could be. Our race is corrupt, and even though I'm still young, being only the age of fifteen, I have seen more than any child should be forced to see. I have seen bloodshed, I have seen children fighting, clawing to volunteer, fighting each other and for what? Some painted crown, a title that means nothing, all of the Capitol adoring you, your own District worshipping the very ground you walk on, in my eyes it just doesn't seem worth it, although there are some who are willing to do whatever it takes to become one of the so called greats, but some of them are so foolish, especially the older ones who have been training since the time they could walk, their views are so corrupt, they laugh at the very thought of killing, it is sick, twisted around the ends, but there is nothing that I can do, I can't make them see the way I see this world.

There are times that I wish I could make them all understand, but I am but one girl, a young one at that, I don't have a voice in this world, my opinion is one that is seen as being irrelevant, but one day, one day I promise to make them see, how barbaric we are, how cruel we treat our children, the future of this world. I sigh quietly, knowing this is nothing other than some false dream I cling so desperately onto, even if I had the voice, no one would listen to me. I look back out at the water, the ocean appearing calm and glass like, this early in the morning; the clear sea looks like it could be shattered into a million pieces in one single stroke, but the ocean is unbreakable, a force to be reckoned with, strong, brave, something that I wish I could be. I've always wanted to be unbreakable, but my heart always gets in the way. I put up this front, acting fierce, brave, and tough, but I am nothing more than one girl who cares too much, who wishes to change the world. I have big hopes, but a part of me knows that I am only setting myself up for failure. It is better if I don't set my expectations so high, the higher they are, the harder I shall fall. I shake my head, my dirty blonde hair catching the reflection of the morning sun, glistening shades of blonde and gold. I comb my fingers through my hair, sinking my feet deeper into the warm sand. If I had things my way, I would spend all my time here. There is something about the way the waves caress the shore, to the way the gulls burst into song over head, that has a calming sensation over me. Whenever the world becomes too much for me to bear, this is where I can always be found, standing on the edge of the shore, looking out at the water, wishing that I could lose myself beneath the waves.

I allow my eyes to fall shut, as I breathe in deeply, the scent of the salt air imprinting itself to my senses. It is everywhere the scent of salt, stinging in my nose, dancing across my tongue. Some people really don't know how to appreciate the little things like this, but on a day like today I take in everything that the ocean has to offer, seeing it as if it could be my last time. I don't like thinking that way, as if today will be my last day of freedom, but thinking that way really helps you appreciate the smaller things in life. It helps me appreciate the fact that I live so close to the ocean, it has me appreciate the fact that I have a roof over my head and food in my stomach, it makes me appreciate my younger brother who means the world to me. Just the thought of my little brother Theodore, makes a smile spread across my lips, he is so full of innocence, and he is what gives me the strength to believe in hope for the feature. If only he could hold onto that innocence forever. I lost mine many years ago; it drifted away like the leaves on the wind of a warm spring morning. I was so young at the time, watching the Games with wide eyes, I saw so much bloodshed, but that was only part of the reason behind why I had to grow up so fast. I worked with my father on the fishing boats, running lines, helping set up the nets, and the first time I slipped up, making a minor mistake, I was punished for it, slapped across the face, a living memory to never mess up again. This world is full of hardships; even living in a Career District I've seen it. People slave away, trying to make some pay, anything to put dinner on the table, all to feed their starving children. I think no matter where you live, there shall be hardships, but that is how we learn, how we grow as people.

The sound of the town hall's bell pulls me out of my thoughts, forcing me to pay attention to my reality, instead of dancing along the blurred lines of my thoughts and silly dreams. My father always told me that it was only the foolish who dream, that think they can change the world, but that is not much to expect from a man who thinks the annual Hunger Games is a treasure all its own. I glance at my reflection in the water, my hair billows around me in soft sheets in the breeze of the wind, my warm brown eyes looking like pools of chocolate. I try to smooth my hair out, but it no use, the wind carries it wherever it seems to please. I shrug my shoulders, picking up a rock, skipping it across the glassy surface of the ocean, causing ripples to spread across it, leaving imprints in something that once appeared to be unbreakable. The ripples are just living proof that nothing is unbreakable, the strong ones always have their weakness, and they do have a point of becoming broken. I spread my arms out, spinning on my heels, my simple pink dress splaying around me in soft silky sheets, only to fall back into place with grace. I walk along the shore, lazily making my way towards the town square, I'm not in any rush like many would be, fighting to stand in the front of their age groups, the words I volunteer just waiting to drip off their lips. I'll never be able to understand how some kids think, how they can do it, throw their lives away for something so trivial, so barbaric. I could never do it, I would never survive the Games, I'm not as strong as some of the other competitors would be, they would easily be able to squash me under their boots like a bug, but I do have something that they don't, I have wits, a brain on my shoulders, something that would outmatch brawns any day. Some may not believe it, some would call me ludicrous for thinking this way, but that is just one of the many qualities that set me apart from the crowd.

As my feet leave the comforts of the sand, uneasiness begins to set in, as I fall into line to check in. As they prick my finger this uneasiness only continues to grow. It is the same every year; this anticipation begins to set in, rooting itself at my core, making my hands shake, and my mind race. I know I'm not the only one who deals with this, there are so many of us who don't want to fight, that don't want to die, we want to live, but here in a Career District that is seen as a crime. I never quite understood this, but it has to do with the way we were raised, with what beliefs we had pounded into our heads at such a young age. As I contemplate these thoughts, I fall into the group marked for the females of the age fifteen. I glance around for my friends, but they are lost amongst the sea of people, and the sound of our escort catches my attention before I am able to find them. It is the same thing every year, the welcoming of this year's annual Games, the story of our history and then comes the announcing of the tributes, but this year that final part is different, because instead of it being the name of some poor kid who I don't know, it is my name being called out. "Jeannette Jones, come forward dear!" The husky voice of our escort calls out, the static of the microphone ringing in my ears. Instantly my heart rate begins to pick up, as sweat begins to roll off my body, this wasn't meant to happen, I'm not one of those who wanted to be chosen, but I have no choice but to step forward, to accept my fate.

All I can feel is horror, and this urge to cry, but I hold it back, as I step forward, a part of me expecting someone else to volunteer, but the look on my face reads that I want to be here, and no one steps forward to take my place. With each step that I take I am fighting a battle, on the inside I am screaming and crying, wishing that someone would hold my hand and tell me that everything is going to be okay, but the only hand that is outstretched before me is the hand of our escort, who takes my hand, forcefully pulling me onto stage, as he walks over to the second bowl of names, preparing himself to call out of the name of the male tribute. I look out blankly at the crowd, my features appearing calm, but on the inside I can barely contain myself. I never wanted to be here, I don't want to be a tribute, I want to live, but now I can't take life for granted, if I want to live I am going to have to fight for it. I have never had to fight for anything in my life before, but now I am going to have to fight for everything. Life was always meant to be fragile, ripped apart at the seams at the blink of an eye, and it is my turn to have my life shattered to pieces.

Well look at that, I actually updated sooner than I thought I would; I hope I portrayed this character right and I hope to hear from all my lovely readers in a review!

Now here is your sponsor question for this chapter.

What does District 13 take away from Gale as punishment for getting tangled up with Boggs?

The first to answer correctly will receive six sponsor points and the next three to answer correctly will receive four sponsor points!