My fingers stretch longingly for something to hurl at the door, but I stop myself after I cock my arm back- it's the TV remote. The Reapings are on tonight, and every channel is swarming with previews and commercials. I wring my wrists uncomfortably as I realize this is the first viewing of my opponents. I don't retrieve Abrielle or Atticus; I need to assess this on my own.

The cameras start in District One, as always. The girl tribute, Calixte, is so wretchedly typical of the district. She has elbow length, wavy blond hair. Her lashes are long and showcase her piercing blue eyes; they look so much like my own. Her lips are dark and contrast against her snow-white skin. She smiles vivaciously, as if she is truly delighted to fight to the death. She struts up the aisle cockily, and collects her identical sisters… she's a freaking quadruplet. Great. They all giggle and wave to the crowd, typical Capitol bait. The boy is Ioana, and I automatically hate him because he has no siblings. No one to protect, no one to fight for, no one to miss. Ioana has curly dark hair that tickles his ebony eyes. He is superbly muscular, exactly what I expected, but his eyes are glazed over and he looks distant.

The cameras flash to District Two, and I lean in to the TV because I'm always fascinated to see what they bring to the table. I notice the stage is crowded with past victors, they're flaunting off to the rest of us for intimidation purposes. I roll my eyes, I'm not scared of any of them whatsoever, but a pang of fear hits me as I think about Abrielle going against one of those beasts. The girl is Eve, and she smiles wickedly at her name announced. She's the tallest girl in her section, probably 17 or 18, but is very skeletal and pointy. Her hair is fiery red and cascades down her back like a waterfall. Her eyes are constantly set in a condescending look- I hate looking into them. Two brutes emerge from the adult crowd, they must be her brothers, and meet her in the aisle. I'm fuming as I connect the dots to the advantage District Two has here. I am appalled the Capitol is allowing these sadistic, overage monsters to compete against Yarrow's baby brother and sister. They whisper casually, as if we have all the time in the world for them to get to the stage, and the oldest son points to a little girl no more than four years old. They all wave for her to join them, but she doesn't budge from her parent's arms. Eve leaps through the crowd and snatches the child and drags her to the platform. A little more than necessary, but probably already earned some sponsors. The boy is Samson, a severe looking kid with short, dark hair and the same color eyes. He's almost animal-like, the way his muscles bulge from his arms without flexing. His jaw line is intensely defined, and it clenches displeasingly as he marches to his death alongside his twin sister.

District Three is repulsive; I almost can't concentrate on their Reaping. Their district holds all the factories, which causes the air to be invariably grey from the smoke that is pumped into the air. Thick, charcoal clouds hang glumly in the air, reminding them constantly of work. I really just want to see the Career districts, but I know I should be observing all the tributes because even the feeblest and weakest looking could already be acting. The boy has a harsh nagging cough, and his clothes hang from his bony body and sway in the breeze as he retrieves his older sister. I almost dismiss him, but then I see the way he firmly grips the arm of his sister, digging his fingers into her flesh and shoving her unwilling body up to the stage, I keep him in mind.

District Four is my favorite Career district. Their tributes are fierce, untamed, but not cocky. They don't play along quite like One and Two, the Games aren't a fashion show to them, they just do what needs to be done and come back to their family. Lucia is the girl, and I figure it a disappointment for her to be so young and representing District Four because she's only thirteen, like me, but everyone avoids her eyes. She's the height of most boys in the crowd, and she's quite twig-like. Her skin is bronze and seems to be glowing as she takes every step. Her cheeks are hollow and shadowed, further displaying her underfed figure. Strands of auroral, golden hair flow lightly behind her as she scans the crowd, breathless, for her partner. Finally, a little girl trips up the cobblestone steps, appearing about two, Lucia scoops her up and whispers into her ear, ignoring the handshakes and congratulations from the officials on the stage. The boy chosen is Sochii, and the first thing that catches my eyes isn't his muscular build, or the striking green eyes, or sun-kissed skin, not even his mousy brown hair that reminds me of Abrielle's… it was the pained look on his face as everyone shifted away from him. He looks physically like a Career, but his expression gives him away. His bites his lips so had, a trickle of blood actually spills out of his full lips. Sochii stands now in the middle of the aisle, standing in the silence of the district, only the whistling wind whipping his hair makes a noise. Lucia sets down her sister and springs into the aisle, crashing into Sochii's arms. I watch, intrigued, as she wraps her legs around him and he spins her in slow circles, barely brushing his bloody lips to hers. He sets Lucia down like a piece of fine china and they walk up to the stage together, fingers laced together as if even the Capitol wouldn't disrupt their burning passion for one another. Sochii's four brothers and a sister amble up to the stage casually, and I can see why. Their full-grown adults, indicating Sochii as the youngest, and have a shot at winning this being the most intimidating group in the district. The image of Abrielle crossing their path invades my mind.

Our turn. The screen is now a familiar setting; the village square. When Yasmin calls my name, the camera dashes to me, capturing every emotion in my eyes. It's a little off-putting, seeing such a petite girl looking absolutely malicious. I kind of like it.

I look down at my intertwined fingers nervously, trying to block out the television after I stole a glace at myself. I'm dreading Abrielle's cry, I know it's coming, but as much as I try to distract myself I can't help but shudder at her piercing cry. I wearily look up to the scene, and I'm carrying her to the stage now. Only for a moment, I feel as if every muscle in my body has betrayed me, gone numb. I sit on the couch in udder shock, my fingers still tangled tensely. I keep my gaze glued to the television as I surge my fingers across the bed for the remote, at last I find it and send my shaking finger into the pause button. I zone in to my arm that supports most of Abrielle's weight, and notice my arm is stained in blood, twisting in red vines up my forearm. I examine my trembling arms and even in the pale moonlight casting in from the windows I can see only sprinkles of Atticus' blood remaining on me. Could that be only this morning? It feels like lifetimes ago. I remember not scrubbing off all the blood entirely, but I never imagined the Capitol cameras would pick up on something so detailed. But there it is, radiating off my arms like sunburn. It's terrifying, and I really look like a bloodthirsty killer before I'm even in the arena. I wonder what the Careers are thinking…

I should have paid more attention to Districts 6 and 7, but I still drowning in crashing waves of disbelief. I don't think I can resurface until I hear a cry, similar to Abrielle's, but now we're in District 9. The girl is crying and has to be "escorted" up by the peacekeepers. She puts up a small fight, but after ten feet she goes limp in their iron grasp. For some cruel reason, I hope it's not an act. It'll be one less person that will put up a fight with Atticus and I in order to bring Abrielle home. I tune out again, but spring back shortly after District 12 pulls forth a tribute with two twin six year olds, a year younger than my Abrielle. My breath catches in my throat as the camera zooms close to the little girls. They hold hands, tears slopping out of their dark eyes. Not out of fear, but out of confusion they were taken away from their parents. Their hair is parted down the middle and is pin straight, falling past their chest. The color is a haunting shade of black, the same color as their eyes. I'm hypnotized by their young beauty; but the seal of the Capitol shines bright on the screen and then the television goes black