-Day 2 of the Hunger Games-

I had one thing, one ounce of normality in this reality of hell, worse than any of my nightmares. Was it special to me? No, I don't think so. Would I have cared if you had taken it away a year ago? A month ago? A week ago? Maybe not. But, those who are watching let us have one thing; one thing, to give us the drive to win, to remind us of home, to keep us together in this torment to which they subject us. And it's in your hands.

It's mine. There's no arguing it. I brought it in and, I had it before and, it's mine. Who gave you the right to pick it up? You could have just left it alone, left it there in the grass. Better for it to be lost forever than you to have it for yourself.

Are they watching me now? Are they laughing at me squirm and scream into the air? I hope they are. I hope they see what they are putting me through, what they are putting us all through. I didn't want this. They dragged me out of my home and made me do this.

Couldn't you have just let me keep a part of my home?

-1 year until the Hunger Games-

Running my hands over the aged fabric, I smoothed out the wrinkles in my clothes. Despite the age, these clothes were fancier than I was used to.

"Are you ready yet?" My mom poked her head through the door. "How are you feeling?"

Why are Reapings the only time you seem to care? "Fine." I didn't give her the ammunition of knowing that I was scared.

"Well, good. I'm sure you'll be fine. No need to be worried. Did you take your prescription?"

"Yeah." On our dresser, a clock sounded the alarm. The ring continued from my ears all the way to my heart.

"It's time to go. Come on." She pulled hard on my arm, and I treaded after her. Leaving the cramped apartment, the clinking of foot against the metal grate of the stairwell resonated, echoing off the two buildings. We descended from the 7th floor, into the waiting crowd.

Peacemakers ensured order and separation between home and this temporary zone of the Capitol. As we came to the line of town square, my mother turned to me.

"Okay honey. You're only in this for two more years. Please, don't get chosen. I would be all alone here. Remember, you'll be fine." Before I could respond, she hugged me tight. I just accepted the hug, hoping she was right.

As I filed into my age group, I watched the Peacekeepers from the corner of my eye. Covering their face, eyes, and hands, the uniforms were as inhuman as the Capitol itself, almost ensuring we would hate them with all of our hearts. But really, Capitol didn't need anyone else to help us hate them; they did that on our own quite well.

QED: a pink haired, portly man in a suit waddled on stage. The utter ridiculousness of his look made me think of a gum-ball being devoured by a haberdashery. However, what he had to say was less funny than his look.

"We have gathered here today in order to pick the lucky two who will be graced with the chance to compete in the Hunger Games."

In the silence, my heart reminded me of its presence, as it beat against the walls of my chest. Each pound another desperate attempt to escape its captivity. I put my hand over thumping, hoping to calm the sound that the others must be hearing. Brushing my necklace out of the way, my hand did little to relax it.

"Why don't we have the girls go first, hmm? I think it's only fair." His hand sloshed around the glasses bowl that contained the small slips of paper.

What if they chose me? She would be left alone. My friends would cry, but eventually forget me. I would come back in a body bag, or worse, alive. Alive in body, but forsaken in mind- thoughts cursed by the phantoms of who I had seen in the arena. Better off dead.

"That's probably good." Panting at the exhaustion of moving his arm, he plucked the slip from the bowl. They told me not to cry, so I held my tears back.

"Alrighty, let's all give a big hand for Elizabeth, the new tribute for District 9!"

I almost collapsed from relief. The poor girl shrieked and ran, as Peacekeepers chased after.

One more year. What were the chances of me being chosen next year?

-Day 1 of the Hunger Games-

The Games will commence in 1...

I slipped my finger between my necklace and my burning skin.

I know I shouldn't run directly into it, but it had all the supplies in it. My advisor had told me to run away–as far as possible–yet shouldn't I at least get something? Did she know what she was talking about? I swear I could trace the adrenaline running from my brain to my heart, ordering it to beat faster. Externally and internally, the heat made me break out in sweat before anything started.

The Games will...

Shifting from side to side, sifting through my options, I turned my head to the falling body of girl. My brain told me to put my arms up in defense, but a furious explosion threw them backwards. A small pulling between my finger and thumb subsided to the blackness as my head hit ground.

- 1 Week until the Hunger Games-

"I'm terribly sorry. We simply cannot allow any performance enhancing drugs to enhance your performance in the Hunger Games." The voice of the portly, pink haired man never rose from a casual conversation level.

"Those aren't steroids or anything. I need those. They help me." I continued to beg him, despite his soulless response for the last two hours.

"Just get over it. I mean, honestly." He looked down at me over his waist. "Look at me for example. I have problems in my life; you don't see me on those. When I feel sad, I stop being sad. Just do the same. Get over it," he said as he slammed the door on my face.

Better than the Capitol man, my advisor worked with me. Speaking with a slight lisp, she told me she was an expert in psychology. There might not be a way to defeat this, but she at least tried to help me in any way she could. Despite her positive disposition and the talking sessions, the nightmares returned.

A long time ago, it seemed, I watched as a Peacekeepers dragged a screaming girl to be taken to the Capitol for the last Hunger Games. Now, each night for seven days, I replaced that girl, screaming in terror as they dragged me towards my death. Each morning I woke up, the screaming continued, as I tried to force out of my head the thought that my nightmares persisted as reality.

-Day 1 of the Hunger Games-

My hands raced to my head to check for blood that, thankfully, wasn't there. As I pushed my arms downward, ready to get up, the world split into three. Each version of the ground swirled in circles around my eyes. Everything hid its true form, waiting for the best moment to strike back into focus. My body slammed back into the ground.

For a second, I thought of lying there and going to sleep, but the rational part of my mind pleaded for my heart and body to continue to function.

I pushed my body upwards once again; this time achieving my goal of sitting upright. The sound of battle echoed to my right. What little thought power I could muster told me to veer in the opposite direction, that mess should be something I avoid in this state. I took stock of the pain in my body. Besides for the aftershock still happening in my head, I could feel a variety of small cuts and possible bruises on my body, and, curiously, a small ring of pain around half of my neck.

My feet too stupid to carry my body, I resorted to crawling away. In this moment of chaos, I took the time to admire the blades of grass that rose beneath my fingers. The blades tickled the sides of my fingers, feeling softer than anything I had felt in the concrete city of District 9. I stared at the ground as a shadow darkened the bright green.

I twisted around to find a girl I had seen on the television. My mind eventually caught up to my eyes telling me that her name was Kamila and had gotten a 10 on her evaluation. Only after did it give me permission to flee from certain death.

I scrambled from my sitting position, attempting to retreat and stand at the same time. Wordlessly, the girl advanced upon me. Raising a knife above her head, she was ready to strike, when a guy rushed from behind her. Making a swift movement with his short sword, the girl fell to the ground. I held back a scream as I watched the red trail spill.

"That's what you get for trying to attack someone while they're down," he spat at the corpse.

As he turned towards me, my eyes shot up at his face. He had light stubble covering his structured jaw. His eyes met mine for just a second before a tiny twinkle from his hand drew my attention. In it, a familiar necklace swung back and forth; the small heart pendent shiny with blood. Hands whipped to my neck to check for my necklace, finding nothing but the stickiness of blood.

His mouth drew a breath to speak, before another shout cut off the thought.

"Hey, Jon," Zach shouted as he lounged towards the man with my necklace in his hand. "Let's see how good you really are!" Swords clanged as Jon parried a blow to the head.

Everything in my mind told me to reach out to reclaim my keepsake from this thief, but after having to wait so long to be ready, my body overruled this decision; fleeing at top speed into the forest.

The blood around my neck dripped down my shoulder, reminding me of what I had lost; what Jon had taken from me.

-1 Day until the Hunger Games-

The portly man walked up to me, placing the pocket watch in his suit. "One last thing before I let you loose out there. They just need to check your keepsake."

Taking a breath and swallowing tears, I responded in all the words I could gather.

"What?"

"They're really nice to you, you know? They let you keep one item from the outside world in there. One thing to drive you to win, to remind you of home, to keep you together. That last one is especially pertinent for you." He chortled.

I racked my mind for what thing really matter to me, what would keep me sane in this messed up scenario. But nothing came.

"Hurry up, we don't have all day." He glared at me, tapping his foot dramatically.

Running my hand through my hair in nervousness, the obvious choice rubbed against my fingers. I smiled. I've had it in for as long as I can remember. I wear it every day; it simply had become a part of me.

I stared at the portly man, saying "I'm choosing this necklace." I held it out for him to see. He sneered at it disapprovingly. "I can't say it means all that much to me, but it is there, around my neck every day. In this idiotic, dangerous world, it's a vessel of normality. All I want is to go back to normal."

-Night 2 of the Hunger Games-

The complete silence of the forest didn't concern me, not because I knew why it was silent, but because I really just didn't care. I lay on the ground, staring at the minuscule gap between the trees. I traced the outline of the knife beside me.

Usually you can hear the pulse of your heart in complete silence, but I couldn't hear a thing.

I poked the tip of the knife, making sure I could still feel. The small sting of the knife confirmed. Those careers wouldn't notice something so simple missing from their stockpile.

A jaunty tune blared from a speaker, signaling blue light to be shone from the sky. Above me a two faces rolled past.

"District 10 Collin, District 11: Marcus" I whispered to the trees around me. The tune carried for a while longer before dying off, restoring the sound of silence. I closed my eyes letting the apathy flow through me. I hadn't slept in eight days; I would let them make me more afraid than I already was.

A crunch ten feet away from me made me open my eyes, not that there was much difference between the my darkness and theirs. I lay listening as a girl muttered to herself. I wondered if she knew what her death would be.

Deep, panting breaths, masculine footsteps, and what I could swear was a heartbeat echoed from a distance. This panting continued for a few seconds. Every breath scratched through his throat as he rested in one place.

A stampede of a number of footsteps interrupted his short rest. Various snaps and crunches described a small fight. The snap of bone punctuated the end. A few seconds of silence and three voices yelled incoherently.

The original guy walked towards where I lay. I couldn't tell if it was the same person, but the footsteps sounded the same, so I assumed so. From where he stood, a voice shouted into the darkness.

"What the hell is going on?"

My heart pumped against my chest. I recognized that voice. I know exactly who that voice belongs to: Jon.

"Hahahahahahahaha!" The girl laughed behind me, luring him closer.

I smiled; they delivered me him, and more importantly, my necklace. I could finally have it back. I could finally restore normalcy. It was really this easy.

He limped towards me. In his hand swung a small object. The small light of the moon glinted off the small heart pendent of the necklace, confirming my gift.

My heart pounded, trying to tell its counterpart of its presence. I gripped the knife at my side. He stopped right above me, clutching his arm. Kneeling down, his hand groped at the ground beside me. His fingers brushing against my own signaled that it was finally time.

In one continuous motion, I yanked the knife from my side and jabbed it directly into his heart. He collapsed on me as a scream rang from the girl, piercing the night. After I gently pulled the knife from his chest, he slumped to the ground. Delicately, I pinched the necklace and pendant from his hand.

Pressing it towards my chest, I was happy. Now, I wanted to put this whole night behind me.

-Savannah-