A/N: So anyone who has read my story before may have noticed that I deleted chapter 5, 6 and 7. That was mainly because I just didn't like them. The writing was terrible, and the dialogue very stiff. The plot will mainly stay the same, with a few changes. I just wanted a do over. So we start off at the morning of the Reaping. I hope you're not too confused, but I think this will be much better. If you're new, then ignore all that, it won't make any difference to you. Enjoy, please review and all that.

Chapter 5

Katniss POV:

It's here. It's here and I'm panicking. I thought I had so much time. Now all my time seems to have disappeared, slipped through my fingers. I wake up next to Peeta like I always do, but it's different now, we both know it is. Because we will have to leave our safe bubble of happiness and elation. We will be thrown into a situation where we have to play pretend, be the Capitol Peeta and Katniss. We will have to sit there and train young children to be murderers. We will watch at least one of them die. Likely two. We might even know these people. Prim could be picked. With the admittedly tame Quarter Quell rules, there will be no one there to protect her.

I don't even realize I've started hyperventilating until I feel Peeta's strong arms around me, trying to hold me together. But I feel like I may shatter into a billion pieces at any moment. I hate the feeling of weakness. I hate feeling like I have no control over anything or anyone. I hate not being strong. I hate the Capitol. I hate Snow. I hate so many things, and it's not fair. But neither is life. I used to know that so well. Peeta has softened me. That's good and bad, but right now it's just bad. I feel sick.

Getting dressed and ready is a blur. I have a vague recollection of eating blueberry pancakes that Peeta made, a hazy memory of pulling on a Capitol outfit left for me by Cinna for this very occasion. I think I held on to Peeta for a while, because I feel warm inside. I snap out of whatever daze I'm in once the door opens, and the sharp, cool air shocks my senses. I wrap my arms around my torso, feeling suddenly cold. Cold from the weather, cold from the sense of impending doom that I woke up with. I really do feel sick.

Peeta takes me by the arm, and leads me to the square. It is filled with cameras, terrified children, and concerned parents. I instinctively start to head towards the section for 17-year-olds, but thankfully, Peeta has his wits about him, pulls me towards the mentor's seats.

Right. I'm a mentor now. Happy Hunger Games to me.

I watch with detached sadness as I see the children shuffle to their places, some terrified, some blank, and some angry. I quickly find that I can no longer stay so detached because there's Prim, I see Rory, I've found my old neighbour's son and two daughters, I spot the girl who sat in front of me in class two years ago, I know Madge, and I realize all over again that I know these people, and I could be responsible for their lives.

Peeta squeezes my hand and I know that he agrees, he understands.

Haymitch saunters up to us, slightly less drunk than usual. Maybe the knowledge that he doesn't have to do this alone this year took the edge off a little bit. Suddenly I'm sure I could use a drink too.

"Hello you two. So exciting isn't it? Can't wait to see two more die this year. Happy Hunger Games!" he slurs, his voice dripping with the sarcasm it was drenched in. Peeta and I give identical eye rolls, because it's easier to make fun of the Games than it is to really think about them.

The square gets quiet all of a sudden, and I realize that it's because the mayor is walking up the stage, about to give the same tired speech he gives every year. Except every year I listen with anticipation and fear. Fear for me, fear for Prim, fear for Gale. So much fear. Now I fear for those and other reasons. I fear for letting a tribute die. I fear that it will be my fault. I fear for the sad eyes of their family and friends, the disappointment that is sure to be there when the look at me. I understand why Haymitch is always drunk. I feel sick inside. Outside, too. I think I must be getting a stomach flu.

Soon Effie is prancing up the stage, her heels making a now familiar clip clopping noise. The sound rings throughout the silent square.

I stop paying attention for a bit, and play with Peeta's fingers to distract me, until I hear her saying, "As always, ladies first."

She swirls her hand around in the bowl, making this tiny action much more dramatic than it needs to be. Now all I can think is please not Prim. I can't do anything this year, even if I wasn't a victor. I'm so intent on my begging to no one, that I almost miss her pulling out the slip. She pulls out two, and drops one back in.

"Raileigh Southwood"

The owner of the name is a small girl from the twelve year old section. She has dark brown hair that is pulled up in a ponytail, and familiar seam grey eyes. Of course I got a twelve year old. A child, another Rue to watch die. Another child's death on my hand. I fully expect her to cry once she gets up on stage, but she walks up, incredibly calm, flashing anger and worry in her big eyes. She stands up there, almost defiantly, if anyone could consider standing to be defiant. I hear multiple wails erupt around the square, presumably her younger siblings.

I look over at Peeta and see sadness, anger and worry reflecting in his bright blue eyes. We share a look, and we both know that she may never see her family again. We look away once that horrible realization sinks in.

Effie has moved on to the boys bowl, prancing like she didn't just ensure the death of someone's daughter, of someone's sister. I want to be mad at her, but I know that even if she wasn't here, someone would still be up there. The person I should be mad at is Snow.

Once again, Effie stirs her hand around in the bowl, deciding who will get to die, or become a murderer. Her hand finally decides on a slip of paper, and she reads out "Everett Clayton."

A boy walk confidently walks forward out of the 15-year-old section. He looks far older than 15. He's way more muscular than anyone would expect any 15-year-old to be. The way he carries himself painfully reminds me of Thresh. He look as intimidating and angry as Thresh always seemed to be. He is very obviously from the Seam as well, with dark hair, olive skin, and sharp grey eyes.

My tributes are Thresh and Rue. I feel as if I've been punched in the gut. Memories wash over me and I see Rue's curly black hair fanned around her head, as she asks me to sing to her. I see the flowers that I wove into her hair. I see the little girl, the singer, the one who looked as if she were going to fly away at any moment. I see the sister, the oldest, I see her smile. I see the little girl I couldn't save. And I can't fail again, because I owe it to her this time. I can't let another parent loose a precious child. I don't know Raileigh, but I knew Rue, and I know that despite how much I wish and promise, there is little to no chance of her ever making it out of there.

I must have been lost in my memories of Thresh and Rue for a while, because next thing I know, Peeta's pulling me up from my chair, and I see how shaken he is, and I realize how tough this is for him. I am mad at myself for not being there for him, because I need to be strong so he can be too. We lead each other to the Justice Building so we can say our goodbyes while the tributes say theirs.

We don't need to talk to know that we will say our to our families together, because sometimes its just easier not to leave each other, and now is one of those times.

Prim and my mother come. Peeta's father and his brothers, Rye and Taftan are here too. His mother stops in, and the only thing that keeps me rooted to my chair is Peeta's hand, because all I can think about is the horrible mark on Peeta's face that day in the rain. I decide I hate her, too, for hurting him. How she raised such a kind and amazing person, I will never know. I relax much more once she leaves to tend to the bakery.

I'm comfortable here, with my family and my in-laws, and Peeta. I'm surrounded by warmth, and I feel content. That feeling is quickly broken once a Peacekeeper stops in to inform Peeta and I that it is in fact, time to go. There is hugging as we leave, and Capitol cameras once we step onto the platform.

And just like that, our Capitol masks are back, and we are their puppets again.