I don't get out of bed. I don't even try. I lay there. Not as a loser, but only because I just don't feel like it. I'm a lazy ass.

Still, one morning, I force myself up. The world spins but I hold my ground and swing my taped up door open. I'll walk through town with attitude; like I own it. Like the Quarter Quell hasn't affected me. They shouldn't even try to mess with me. I went into the Games, and I came out with only a sprained ankle. And that wasn't even caused by a person hurting me.

So, instead of cowering in my house, I walk right through the square. I don't look at anybody, just keep my eyes focused on a point ahead of me. People stare, yes, but it doesn't affect me.

At one point, a guy shoves me. I don't turn around, but my hand flies back and finds the face of the boy who did it. He falls to the ground and moans in pain.

I keep walking. The people who witnessed me do that, they back away a few steps cautiously. Still, despite their rude behaivor, I ignore them.

They whisper. I walk. I keep walking up to the lumberjack's store. In there, I buy a set of axes. The guy at the counter slowly takes my money with a shaking hand.

"Here's your change," He says with a wavering voice.

"Thanks." Then I turn around sharply, strap my new axes around my waist like I did in the Games, and walk out the door, listening to only the chimes the glass door make.

A boy my age turns around and hurries away from me. Parents grab the hands of their children. I pull out one of my brand nex axes and hear a squeel of terror.

People are such babies these days.

Rain begins to fall. People rush to their houses, using the rain quickly picking up pace as their excuse to run away. I think maybe it's part rain, part me. More me. I keep my head held high, though, and keep walking. Don't look. I'm Johanna Mason and I don't give a damn what people think of me.

I am strong.

I am sly.

I am smart.

I am seductive.

I am sober.

The rain turns from a drizzle to a downpour in several minutes. There's not a person in sight. Doors are locked. I'm still far from my house, and already soaked. I look up at the sky and then look straight ahead, before starting to run. Puddles splash around me, making the one pair of shoes I love all wet. Zem gave me these. I can't ruin them. I tear them off my feet and continue to run in my socks.

These socks were given to me by the Capitol, and by now, they're ruined. That doesn't bother me at all. It's pretty dark out, and I let the rain wash away my troubles. They fall to the ground and I leave them behind as I keep running.

Thunder booms all around me and lightning lights up the sky. I throw my arms wide at my sides, as if I'm a bird, and close my eyes as the rain splatters on my face. I love this. I love rain.

A thought hits me. Tommorrow is reaping day. For some reason this doesn't bother me. If I die, I die. Oh well.

I reach my house and decide to go in, despite not really wanting to. When I walk in, my phone is ringing.

"Hello?" I ask.

"Johanna, this is important," The voice answers seriously.

"Haymitch? What's wrong?"

"Ever since they announced the Quarter Quell, I've been planning some training for you and the other Victors. I can't say it over the phone, it's too dangerous. But I'll talk to you in the Capitol soon, okay?" He asks.

I'm confused, but I still say, "Okay. See you then."

"Bye." He hangs up.

That was weird. But somehow, when he put emphasis on training, I know he's planning for more than one of us to get out of the arena alive. But what if he gets called at the reaping? Then he won't be able to carry out his plan. . .

Peeta. Peeta Mellark. He'll volunteer to go in with Katniss. I know it.

I put the phone back where it belongs and then fall to the floor. I'm tierd. And right now I don't give a damn if the reaping is tommorrow.

I'm being called. And that's final. So why should I mope about it? There's nothing I can to change it. Besides commit suicide. But I wouldn't do that, because I'm not a quitter.

If I die, I die. But I know I won't go down without a fight.

When I wake up in the morning, I realize I fell asleep a sober woman, despite knowing I was headed to (possible) death. I climb out of bed and dress up, sort of. I wear a long-ish gold dress and brush my hair, despite it being short.

Finally, I drag myself to the reaping where surely my fate will take place. I just hope I do everything right, as this is probably the last time I'll see District Seven.

When I arrive, I stand in a special roped-off area for just me. Baily takes the stage unexcitedly, knowing exactly who is going in.

"Time to pick our tributes for the 75th Hunger Games, your 3rd Quarter Quell," She says into the microphone.

"And your girl tribute will be..." I wait silently as she digs around the bowl with just my name in it. "Johanna Mason."

There's almost no clapping as I take the stage, feeling small and weak under the mercy of the Capitol, but also feeling strong and rebellious to myself and to my District.

Katniss Everdeen defied the Capitol. Why can't I?

Baily, of course, grabs Blight's name. "Shake hands, please, Johanna and Blight," She says, and we smile and shake weakly.

"Ladies and Gentlemen, your tributes for the 75th Hunger Games!" She says, more peppy than she's been all day. Still, the atmosphere is soggy and heavy.

I've got nobody to say goodbye to, so I just sit in the Justice Building, feeling the chair but not looking at it for a while until the Peacekepper tells me I can board the train. Though I'm doing nothing wrong, he still shoves me when I walk out the door.

Peacekeepers are so rude.

I walk onto the train and retreat to my room. There are times when I honestly just want to be left alone, and this is certainly one of them. Being by myself helps me gather my thoughts and sometimes I'll write them down. Not like a diary, but just on a piece of loose leef paper. Then I'll just throw it out.

In my room, I take off my reaping dress and put on pajamas. After that, I just sit by the window, watching District Seven go by, wondering if I'll ever see it again. It takes a long time, since my District is huge, but I just sit there and watch it, recognizing almost every part of it. The forest.

I start crying when I see one of the largest trees in the forest that the lumberjacks haven't found. I used to sit up there all the time. I would think up there, and if I'd had a bad, day, I'd still sit at the very top of it during a thunderstorm.

Suddenly, I don't feel like looking out the window anymore. As I'm about to turn, I see the last of District Seven go away. I slam against the window and press my face to it, wanting so badly to slam through it and run through the forest, away from this place.

On reaping day six years ago exactly, I thought about running away from the District, but decided against it.

Now, how badly I wish I had gone through with that seemingly crazy idea. We're in District Six now, which happens to be right next to us, despite the rest being pretty spread out. I fall onto the bed and decide against going to dinner. The only people who'll be there are Blight and Baily. But I doubt Blight will go to dinner. In fact, I bet he won't even go to training.

The next day, when we arrive in the Capitol, Blight comes up to me while I'm eating a tub of pudding to drown my troubles. Its better than liqour.

"Johanna, emergency meeting," He whispers, and grabs my hand with so much intense force, I drop my spoon and pudding.

When we arrive at some woods where there's no cameras. At least we can be pretty sure. Someone probably checked. There's a sort-of small metal building. When I walk inside, Haymitch, Plutarch, Wiress, Beete, Cecelia, Woof, Finnick, Mags, the morphlings, Seeder, and Chaff are all there. All Victors. Except Plutarch.

"What's going on?" I ask, somehow knowing this is a plan to throw down the Capitol.

"We've got to dicuss something," Haymitch says, standing up and walking towards a fancy Capitol monitor as if he's giving a presentation. "I've been planning this since I found out about the Quarter Quell. First off, we're not letting you all die."

For some reason, I'm not all that suprised about this. I guess for one he called me beforehand and told me about something, but that's not all.

"As you all know, District Thirteen exists. We're escaping there," Haymitch continues. "What I need you all to do, though, is to make sure Katniss and Peeta stay alive."

"Risking our own lives in the process?" I spit out, kind of disgusted, as I've never met these people.

"Possibly," Haymitch says slowly, then shakes his head. "But that's not the point. It'd be helpful if you stay alive, too. Katniss has shown me that she has not given up on her life, so thats a plus side and a negative. She'll do anything to stay alive, including killing any of you."

"But, what if she tries to kill us? Then can we fight back?" I insist. "I'm not just going to let her kill me so she can live."

And it's true. Why would I? That's stupid.

"Maybe. You're probably stronger than her, Johanna, so fight her back, but don't kill her. Possibly knock her out or something. Anyway, Plutarch, I need you to make sure there's a wire in the pile of supplies. Beetee, we talked earlier, remember? Here's what's going to go on."

Then Haymitch tells us about how Beetee is going to do something with the wire and somehow the force field around us is going to blow up.

"Wait, what's the arena going to be like?" Asks Finnick, as confused as me.

"A clock. Each hour, a new horror in each section of the spokes will come out. We'll send you bread. The district the bread comes from is the day, and the number of pieces the hour. We may not be able to get you some from District One or Two, but we'll be sure to get District 3. There will be a force field around it. Beetee can see them, so he'll know they're there."

This is an awful lot. "So what happens when the force field blows up?" Asks Wiress.

"We're going to send in some District 13 hovercrafts and get you all rescued from the arena. Then we'll go and escape to District 13," Haymitch explains, as if it's totally obvious, though it really only is to him and possibly Plutarch.

"Wait, so I'll never go home again?" I ask, shocked, sad, and terrified.

"I don't know," Haymitch answers honestly. "We'll see."

By his tone, I know that this is the start of a war.

I'm so glad. And so scared. Of what will happen to me. Of what will happen to the rest of us. Of what will happen to my district.

But it's finally happened. And it only took 75 years.