A darling little innocent girl, with tresses of gold and eyes of sapphire, she was perfect.

She slept with a cat curled up beside her, clutching a small piece of linen that smelled of her father: the damp, dark smell of the mines and the light, airy smell of vanilla.

It was the day her name came out of the glass bowl that she realized just how fast her innocence would be gone. She froze, her good black shoes nailed to the square. She heard a voice, then, screaming the words no one there had ever heard: I volunteer. Everyone gasped, searching for the voice. But she already knew. It was Katniss.

She didn't watch the Games for a minute, turned her back.

And so it was the next year, until she turned to the screen just as it went black.

Something had happened. To Katniss. To Peeta. Or to Finnick, or to Johanna, or to Enobaria. To anyone, to everyone in there. God, if only it were me, she thought, clutching the scrap of linen to her chest.

Her mother clutched her hand. The screen in Square Twelve still flickered between black and static. Nothing new for two days. Then the flames started.

She woke to smoke outside her window, biting at the window. She rose, bursting into her mother's room. Tears sparkled in her eyes as she woke her mother, trembling.

Already in the square there was a crowd, lead by Gale. The flames had engulfed the stage by then, and smoke rose, blocking out the stars. Buildings crumbled around them, crashing down.

Prim knew that, with District Twelve, her innocence would soon be gone, too.

April, because you're not the most innocent person I know, here's a fic of the most innocent person in the series. But that's debatable, because of Rue. Anyway, have a lovely bloody cold Christmas ;)