p class="MsoNormal"span style="font-family: 'Helvetica',sans-serif; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB;"My name is Hazel Redwood. I am from district seven. I won the first hunger games. That's what they called them, after I won by sitting in a tree eating raw squirrels I caught and killed with my bare hands. I can still feel them writhing beneath my hands, desperately trying to get free. I still feel terrible about killing them, but not as bad as killing the last other tribute. He was from district nine, and I will never forget the look on his face when I dropped the rock on his head. I'm glad I didn't see all the deaths at the cornucopia, I probably would have vomited. Maybe I should have gone, though. I could've grabbed a knife, or a supply bag, or something to make the hell I was about to endure slightly more comfortable. I'd probably be dead though. Like the other five people that were slaughtered on the first day. The more I think about it, the more I wish I could join them. I wonder what death is like. Surely better than being paraded around, made to give speeches and attend social functions. Next year I'll have to oversee the tributes from my district. They'll probably die. Will I make friend with them? Hate them? Curse their murderers through the high-tech screens from the control room? I'll guess I'll have to wait until next year. /span/p