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

I thought I would be able to stay strong up until the Reaping, but I ended up crying myself to sleep last night like some kind of emotional wreck. I am a wreck because I truly do not know how I'm going to do this.

My aunt Lancia, a fellow Victor from Six, is going to be mentoring this year with me, which is a huge comfort. But regardless, I'm less experienced than her because this is my first year of mentoring. Lancia has seen dozens of her children die, being in her late thirties. Meanwhile, I'm still a child. There's a possibility that the tributes could be my age!

"Aly, sweetheart, we have to get going," Lancia calls from the other side of my bedroom door. I've been sitting cross-legged on my comforter long after I had gotten dressed and prepared. The skirt of my black dress is dotted with tear-stains.

"I'll be out in a second," I tell her in my strongest voice possible, so she won't think I've been crying. I hastily wipe my tears with my sleeve and take a long, shaky breath, praying my eyes aren't too red. I open the door to find Lancia standing in the hallway with her arms crossed.

"Ready?" she asks, a weary look on her face. I nod numbly.

As we head downstairs, I accidentally let out a whimper. Lancia asks if I'm alright and before I can stop them tears begin to flow down my cheeks. My aunt holds me as a mother would, stroking my long, dark hair.

"I know," she says, "I know."

"How do you do it, auntie?" I ask her between sobs. My whole body feels like it's trembling. Lancia places her hands on my shoulders.

"Do you remember what Sensei told you during the goodbyes last year?" Lancia questions. I nod slowly, recalling the parting words he left me.

"There is nothing the world throws at you that you can't handle unless you think you can't handle it."

Those words provided a serene sense of comfort at the time. If I wanted to win the Hunger Games all I had to do was win them. And I did, at the cost of my own innocence, but it's better than being dead. Or at least I think it is.

Once we arrive at the Reaping I try to point out any former classmates of mine, secretly begging them not to get Reaped. As more and more children pile in I realize it doesn't really matter who gets chosen. No matter what, my responsibility is still the same.

It doesn't have to be all bad, I suppose. I could become friends with them, to provide the chosen tributes some normality and happiness before they're thrown into the Arena.

No, Aly! That's a terrible idea! You'll be even more devastated when they die!

But one of them might come home, I argue back at myself.

Only one of them, if you're lucky.

This whole situation seems like it will break me emotionally regardless of how I approach it. Double-whammy.

We've been sitting at the front stage for a while now, as the last eighteen-year-olds file into their respective areas. Soon everyone is settled in and the mayor approaches the lectern.

"Good afternoon, ladies and gentlemen. Welcome to the Reaping for the 138th Annual Hunger Games."

As if I haven't heard this woman drone on about this every year. I turn to Lancia and she squeezes my hand for support. I try to muster a smile back at her.

The escort, Tammara Fournier, is a spunky and electric woman with lovely dark skin and purple hair. She's dressed in metallic colors and is wearing a large grey fascinator on her head that reminds me of a bird.

"Hello, everyone! I know you must be excited to find out who our tributes will be, but first, we have a short video to watch!"

I ignore the large projector screen being switched on and turn to Lancia.

"I forgot, there was something I wanted to talk to you about," I tell her as I cover my mouth so no one can read my lips.

"Oh? What is it?" my aunt inquires.

"Nothing important," I say somewhat dismissively as to not attract attention. "Just something Lacey told me the other day."

"Oh, okay," Lancia whispers back to me as she turns back to the screen. Meanwhile, I've started to count how many little black pearls are sewn on the hem of my skirt, something that entertains me far more than Capitol propaganda.

Suddenly Tammara is making her way over to the female's bowl of slips.

Uh oh, I didn't even hear her announce anything. I'm not prepared at all!

I start to grow frantic as she dips her hand into the bowl and pulls out a pristine slip. She makes her way back to center stage and smiles to the crowd.

"The female tribute from District Six will be…"

She unfolds the paper.

"Aston Shinjin!"

A moment later a very petite girl with wavy brown hair emerges from the crowd. She doesn't react much, just stoically making her way to the stage while keeping her arms plastered to her sides and her fists balled. I respect anyone who accepts their fate with a straight face but she also looks like she's going to crack from how tense she is.

With almost no time to take in the girl I will have to care for, Tammara struts over to the male's Reaping bowl.

"Now, for the gentlemen!" she announces as she sinks her hand into the bowl, fishing further for a slip, unlike Aston whose name she pulled from the very top.

Tammara walks back and opens the slip, grinning widely.

"Indy Carmedas!"

A young-looking boy of average height starts to make his way to the stage. He has a somewhat relaxed expression on his face, and his jet-black windswept hair gives him a youthful look. He almost looks like he could be smiling. Still, I can sense the shock and fear coming off of him. But I feel better about this boy than I do about Aston.

He takes his place next to a completely still Aston and stares on as we all wait for Tammara to continue.

"There you have it, District Six! Your tributes for the 138th Annual Hunger Games, Aston Shinjin and Indy Carmedas! Please give them a round of applause for their bravery!" Tammara exclaims as she begins to clap, the rest of the plaza robotically following her. The part about bravery sticks in my head. We're not really brave if we're forced to do this. Oh, well. If I nitpicked every bit of Capitol hypocrisy I'd be pointing it out for the rest of my days.

While Aston and Indy go to say their goodbyes to their families, I part with Lancia to say a goodbye of my own to Sensei Nakamura. It was obviously easier this time because we both knew I'd be coming back.

"You can do this, Alysanne. Have faith in yourself," he tells me, giving me a beaming yet sad smile.

"I don't know how I'm going to deal with it if they both die," I confess. Sensei bows his head, his long white hair hanging.

"I know this is difficult because it is your first year, but the reality is that you'll have to get used to it in your position. I can't say it will get any easier, though." Sensei's transparency and lack of sugar-coating in his language have always encouraged me and lifted my mood. We live in a world where we can't accept anything but the cold-hard truth, and my Sensei provides it to me in a way that doesn't give me false hope yet doesn't crush my soul.

I give him one last goodbye hug along with a promise to call every night. I board the train to the Capitol, my hand in Lancia's. The tributes arrive a little later, bombarded by a paparazzi desperately trying to capture shots of a potential future Victor. As they make their way in and the doors close, reality begins to sink in. I push back my tears and try to put on a brave face. If anyone deserves me at my best, it's Aston and Indy.

Another interlude with Alysanne, who will be somewhat of a deuteragonist in this story. Obviously, she's met the District 6 tributes who will be featured next chapter. I have work tomorrow and usually don't feel motivated to write on days I have shifts so the next chapter will probably be Sunday. I will also post the sponsor system on my profile soon, which is review-based. Be sure to review, I love hearing what you guys think.

Thank you for reading!

-Aemma