Alysanne Audren, 17, D6 Victor of the 137th Hunger Games

Every young person my age feels incredible nerves around the time of the Reaping. The mere thought of your name being called is enough to create a horrible pit in your stomach that is only relieved once you hear a name that is not yours called out. The colorful escorts assigned to sentence two of us to death every year always seem eerily enthusiastic about it, too. That's why when my name was called, a strange sense of relief washed over me. At least I wouldn't have to worry about being Reaped anymore because I was Reaped.

Still, I would have preferred not to have been at all, despite the fact that I escaped with my life. The night terrors that plague me almost never let up even after I've had a decent day. I try not to come off as miserable or self-loathing because I know I'm luckier than most. I have a nice house, a good family, plenty to eat. I confided my feelings to Sensei and he thought that I shouldn't downplay my nightmares.

"You are lucky, Alysanne, but you shouldn't think of yourself as someone who is above having problems, big or small. Your struggle is just as important as anyone else's," he told me as he poured more steaming matcha into my cup.

"But Sensei, there are grieving parents who lost their children to the same Arena I came from, and yet here I am letting myself get spooked by some bad dreams…"

Sensei rose and gave me a supportive pat on the shoulder, reminding me that the universe gives everyone challenges but the only challenges I should be concerned with are my own.

That thought had been floating in my head as the Reaping drew closer and closer. June 10th is the date it falls on this year since it's always on the second Monday of June. Just five days later, on Saturday, is when we're thrown into the Arena. Most people underestimate how much time we are truly given to accept the fact that our days were suddenly numbered.

Now, at this time tomorrow, I would have two children placed into my care, to comfort, to reassure them that I would do my best to ensure one of them made it home. A promise eleven mentors fail to keep every year.

The clock read 3:54 in the morning. The Reaping was at noon for District 6, so I only had a couple more hours of sleep before Alarra would come pounding on my door to prepare me for the event. Her work's been getting a little more difficult lately as she's had to pile more and more makeup underneath my sunken and tired eyes.

Restless, I rise from my large bed, my toes curling at the feel of the ice-cold floor. I flick on my lamp and saunter over to the vanity in the corner of my room. Through the dim light, I can see myself, looking as drained as ever. Most people would describe my eyes as dark purple but the truth is they are indigo. They look almost black from no light reaching them.

Sensei always told me sleep was the best medicine but lately I find that type of medicine to be anything but healing. Sleep usually means waking up with my heart beating out of my chest and sweat rolling down my forehead. I prefer the waking world, at least I sort of know what to expect here.

My eyes spot the embroidered silk robe hanging lazily off a lounge chair. Lacey made it for me as a "comfort object" if I had trouble sleeping. I almost started crying when I saw it after tearing it open from the package mailed from District 8. It certainly does bring me comfort, and knowing she made it herself makes me feel like she's with me even when we are separated, which is often during the Hunger Games' offseason.

As a fellow Victor, Lacey often busies herself with sewing to distract herself from the stress she faces, and I do the same thing with martial arts. I've probably spent more time in the dojo after winning than I ever have before, but what's the point? It's not like I need these skills anymore. Unless someone broke into my house. In that case, an iron fan to the shoulder blade should send them on their way.

As if on cue a notification pings on my phone.

Who could that be at this hour? I think to myself. I pick my phone off my nightstand and notice the text is from Lacey.

"Aly we need to meet at the Capitol after the Reapings, I think something is going on."

"What do you mean?" I text back.

"I don't know for sure but I think these Games are going to be NC"

"NC?"

"Non-conventional."

Lacey goes on to describe that an insider informed her of some disturbing rumors that these Games were going to be more brutal and punishing than previous years. I ask her who told her this and she said she can't say.

"I'm your friend, you can tell me" I assure her.

"I can't. The only reason I'm telling you this at all is that we're Victors. They don't want anyone knowing before they unveil their little twist but we have to find out what it is so we can warn our kids for what's to come."

"Isn't that dangerous?"

"Probably" Lacey admits.

The potential threat of danger swims to the back of my head, too. If we can find out what the Capitol is planning, just a detail, perhaps we can better prepare the tributes we're soon going to be mentoring. I'd be fine with any fate if it meant not having to lose both kids.

Aly, why are you thinking like this? Are you really willing to risk your safety for the safety of some kids you don't even know? my inner voice of common sense reminds me. It was a good point. I had turned a fighting style of self-defense into something to kill in the arena. Clearly, I had stopped caring about anyone's safety but my own long ago.

I climb back into the bed, deciding to try and conjure up any moments of sleep I could. Nightmares aside, I'd prefer to not look like a complete zombie on the Reaping broadcast tomorrow, and especially seeing Lacey.

I just hope I don't get any twelve-year-olds. I don't want my hopes to get crushed immediately.

Interlude chapter with my own Alysanne, who's beginning to speculate that these Games will be weird thanks to Lacey's warning. That they will be. Next chapter will be the District 3 male.

Thank you for reading and be sure to review!

-Aemma