Effie seems to have regained her drive, because she says, "What an exciting day! But more excitement to come! It's time to choose our boy tribute!" And here comes the moment of truth. It can only be one of two options. It will be a male who could kill Katniss, or it will be a boy that will not be able to last past the first day.

I continue to contemplate volunteering when Effie reaches into the boys bowl and pulls out another slip of paper.

"Peeta Mellark."

Or perhaps, there was a third option. It seems fate decided for me. I would die. Die for the entertainment of a thousand people. Die as a player in a never ending game. But most of all, I would die in an arena with the girl that I could swear I love.

I shift out of ranks, the surprise still evident on my face. I do not bother to control my expression. It will do me no good here. It will be better if they do not understand where my real thoughts are headed, where I will be in just a few moments. I can't look at Katniss now. I can't look at anyone. I've been chosen to play these games, and play them I will. They started the moment my name was chosen. And I will not disappoint.

I feel as if my senses have been turned off. I vaguely hear Effie ask for volunteers, but I know there will be no one. I am on my own. As it must be.

I don't know how Katniss climbed the steps so fluidly. I feel sick and so disturbed I am almost sure that I will collapse. But, somehow, I make it the stage, only to become struck dumb. Effie turns to Katniss and shifts her so she and I are facing one another.

I look straight into her gray eyes and find myself mesmerized. I cannot look away. And she does not avert her gaze.

We are required to shake hands, and so I hold out mine to greet hers. Her hands are soft, gentle. But her eyes, they're cold. It's like she has shut off, made herself dead to the world. Perhaps it's better this way. I wouldn't know. I can't bear to shut anything off, when it is all that is keeping me from screaming.

I gently squeeze her hand, knowing it is probably more for my benefit than for hers. An emotion crosses her face. I take that as a sign to relinquish my grip. It is too early for me to tell just what she's thinking. But, I do not want to be her enemy. And I do not want her to think that I am.

It is now that something comes to the forefront of my mind, something that I have been pushing back into the dark recesses of my brain. An event that sealed my fate, it seems. An event that five years could not erase. An event that made me realize that I would never want another person, and that this was somehow meant to be.

It was cold. Raining. For late April, this was usual weather. However the chill in the air was unmistakable, and the mere gust from incoming customers had been enough to make me shake, even as I stood before the oven, carefully pulling out loaves of bread. My mother was helping customers wrap their bread and pay, while I made sure nothing burned, and that nothing became soiled. Every product was important. It all earned money that would keep us fed.

Eleven at the time, I wasn't overall too concerned with the business, but I liked to decorate things. I suppose that's why my mother kept me there. I was very good at making things appear as if they were real. Roses on a cake that couldn't possibly just be made of frosting. Small trails of icing that swirled in gentle patterns around the corners. Small buttons on gingerbread. Anything that kept me out of my mother's path of wrath was to me, a sure worth of my time. And I found, as I did it more, that I actually enjoyed it.

That afternoon had been especially busy, and my mothers temper, naturally short, was already on its last fuse. I wasn't going quite fast enough for her. And because Collin was sick, and Glenn was out with Father, it was just her and I managing. This was not to her liking and she made it quite clear that it wasn't time for me to make a mistake, lest I wanted a punishment that would make me regret it immediately. So I did what I could, following her lead and keeping her busy so that her anger could not be directed at me.

But at some point, she had seen something out of the corner of her hawk like eyes and had run outside to find out what it was. I followed, unable to contain my curiosity. My mother was bearing down on a young girl my age, with brown hair and gray eyes. It immediately struck me. It was Katniss Everdeen. The singing girl. The girl that I had never really talked to, but had had sort of a crush on for several years.

What had she been doing here? I saw her place the lid back on our garbage and back away as my mother threatened to call the peacekeepers, and suddenly I felt sick to my stomach. Call the peacekeepers? On her? What for? She was just hungry! I felt angry at my mother for speaking to her that way. But Katniss was afraid. She bolted away and my mother huffed angrily, heading back inside to help whatever customers she'd left unattended. I stood still, watching as she deposited herself beneath a tree. She was soaked through, her whole body trembling with cold.

I followed quickly. I had to work fast, or my mother would catch on to what I was doing. But I couldn't bear to see the singing girl starve, looking for food in empty bins on the street.

My mother would notice if I took anything though. It didn't take me long to spot two loaves of bread sitting precariously close to the fire on the edge of the table. If I just accidentally bumped into it and they happened to get ruined by falling into the fire…

I decided then to do it. I grabbed a tray and pulled three or four loaves onto it, and hastily "bumped" into the table, driving the two loaves into the fire, effectively burning the outside.

I pulled them out quickly, preserving the insides, and put them on the table. I knew I would get hit for this, but I didn't care. I brought them to my mother.

"Mother, what am I to do with these? Put them on the shelf?" Her eyes bulged at the blackened crusts. She knew I'd burned them. The rage in her face swelled and I braced myself for whatever she was going to hit me with.

Sure enough, she grabbed a metal mixing utensil and started screaming. I closed my eyes and held fast to the two loaves of bread. The blow was quick but it stung worse than any other I'd ever had. I felt as if she'd broken something in my face, but I couldn't bear to let her see she'd hurt me so bad. She was still screaming when I came to my senses, the stinging at least manageable.

"What am I to do with them then?" I ask, as politely as I can manage. I already know what her answer is going to be, but I ask so that she is deceived into thinking this was all an accident.

"Feed it to the pig, you stupid creature!" She hollered. "Why not? No one decent will buy burnt bread!" I quickly turned heel to exit the shop and head to the trough, hoping Katniss was still there, hoping I wasn't too late. It would all be worth it if she got these.

I found myself unable to feel upset about what my mother said to me. She was always so cruel, and I was always on her bad side. I was just lucky she hadn't tried to take the hot coal iron to me.

To make it look like I was following orders, I peeled off the crusts little by little to feed to the pig. She wouldn't need the crust anyway. I glanced her way to make sure she was still there, and sure enough, she was looking my way, her eyes wide, and I knew she yearned to have them.

I tossed the first bread loaf, stripped of its blackened crust, and it landed about a foot from her feet. Her gaze dropped to it and I smiled slightly. I tossed the second piece and shuffled inside before my mother came out to check my progress.

Thinking back to this day made it clear to me. I would never feel that way for another person. I had been brought up by my mother to despise the seam, its people, its starvation. But I could not ever bear to hate the girl that captivated me with her gray eyes. I would never, and from that point on I knew I loved her.

Even on that next day at school, when I couldn't meet her eyes but once; she chose a small dandelion and placed it close to her heart. I felt that, even if it was infinitesimal, I had let her know I cared.

I was vaguely aware of the anthem playing, and then I was shuffled forth into the Justice Building.