Author's note: This chapter is much shorter than the first one, and for that I apologize! I just wanted to give a quick look into Clove's mind before things really got started. Enjoy!

The ride on the train to get to the Capitol is just a hazy blur in the back of my mind.

Everything was made up of the most expensive materials; the table, made of mahogany, and the chandeliers made of crystal, caught my eye. It's all beautiful and exquisite and nicer than anything I have ever seen, which surprises me - after all, I come from District 2. I can't imagine how those from the lesser Districts must feel.

Somehow, I feel out of place. Nothing feels right and there's a feeling of uneasiness between myself and Cato. Yet when our escort starts going on about something in that nauseating voice of hers, we still make eye contact and roll our eyes in unison, almost instantaneously. I know then that we have a lot in common and will quickly become good friends.

I am growing to like him more and more as the time goes by.

It's been three days, two nights and seven hours when we arrive at the Capitol. Cato and I quickly move to glance out our window at the insanity outside; there's people scrambling to get a peek at their precious tributes, the ones who will provide them so much entertainment over the coming weeks. There's this moment of insecurity before I start to wave - there was this feeling of, well what do I do? which quickly went away as soon as I remembered what I was here for. I was here for them.

The view outside is ridiculous and not at all what I expected. Everyone is dressed in these outlandish clothes and makes me feel under-dressed in my little green skirt and white blouse. I take a look at Cato and he looks like he's feeling the same way. But we don't worry, for we know our stylists will take care of our little problem - for now, we just wave and soak up the screaming crowd outside of the train's windows with grins on our waves. I find it interesting that you can hear their shrieking over the gentle lull of the train. 200 miles per hour, our escort told us, and it surely didn't seem like it.

When we step off the train, there's actually a security guard of sorts to accompany us to our floor of the apartment, where we will meet our stylists for the first time before the Parade of Tributes tomorrow evening. However, it's not too early to put on a show - that's why Cato and I hook pinkies and give each other a smile. Honestly, there's something inside me that gives a flutter. I just remind myself not to get attached, as I'll be killing him later.

I'm also finding that it's difficult not to get attached.

When we enter the apartment that will be the home of the five of us - Cato, our escort (I've learned her name is Midori and I've been instructed to call her so), our mentors (their names are Brutus and Enobaria; they're both absolutely vicious and I believe they're growing on me), and myself - my jaw almost drops out of pure surprise. It's beautiful in here, filled with furniture of all shapes and patterns, sizes and colors, and brightly toned walls that make your eyes burn if you look at it too long. It's nothing like we have at home, even though our District is nice. I tell myself not to get used to the extreme luxuries that Midori is babbling on about, but I can't help but long to live here forever. I remind myself that I can when I win.

I claim the room on the west side of the apartment, towards the front of the building. There's a window that extends to cover an entire wall on the right side of my bedroom, if you're facing inwards from the doorway - it's got a breathtaking view of the Capitol streets and the people walking below. There are so many shades of pink and purple in my room that it's sickening, but I know that I will not be here long and there is no need to complain about something so foolish.

Cato's room is just across the hall from mine. He nods to me every night as we go our separate ways into the land of sleep; it's funny, how much can be said without saying anything. Sometimes I wish I had the nerve to speak up - I've never considered myself shy before. I'm changing.

Tomorrow is the Parade of Tributes, and a large feast with the other tributes to get to know them. I'm not nervous at all, but I struggle to find sleep, fighting it as hard as I can before I finally coax my brain into calming down, drifting into a light sleep. My eyes close and away I go, out like a light.

That night, there's something bothering me in my subconscious mind that keeps me from sleeping well. A nightmare haunts my dreams. It surprises me - the face that scares me so is the face of our female mentor, Enobaria. She's got a twisted scowl upon those lips of hers and she's ripping someone's throat out with her teeth like she did before in the Games she won; except this time, it's my throat.

I'm dying in my dreams already and I don't know what to do to stop it.

It is now that I realize I'm scared.