I never sleep before a Reaping. When I was six, dad sat me down the night before and explained that we all had to be brave because Rhees may have to go away, and there was a chance he may not be able to come home. I didn't understand why he may be sent away, or what the grizzly consequences would mean, but I understood the concept that I might not ever see him again, and so I crawled into bed next to him, forcing myself to stay awake so that I could have as many minutes with him as possible.

It was two years later that I saw my first ever Hunger Games. It was the first year Kern's name was also entered into the gruesome draw. I had been warned that there was a possibility either of them could be sent away that year and was overcome with relief when it turned out it would be a different boy, one of Kern's classmates who used to come round and play every Saturday, that had to go away. A few days later I was amazed to see the boy interviewed on television, and I remember a feeling of disappointment that I didn't get to see either of my brothers on the screen, being made beautiful by the Capitol.

The next day, after I had been put to bed, I remember hearing my dad weeping downstairs. I snuck out of my room and tiptoed down the stairs. He had been watching a recap of the opening of the Games. I stood transfixed by horror, my hands over my mouth as I tried to hold in the screams, as I witnessed the death of my brother's friend in the opening blood bath, as an older boy drew a knife across his throat. Dad saw me and immediately pulled me into his arms. I remember him whispering that it was all going to be alright, but from that moment I knew that nothing was going to be alright again. I endured three more years of sleepless nights before the Reaping as I worried about my brothers' fates, then the inevitable wave of gratitude that they were safe for another year.

Then when I turned twelve came the realisation that I was going to be entered. I have never known fear like it. It was the only year that all three of us were entered. I stayed up all night beforehand whispering prayers to a deity I didn't believe in to please keep us all safe.

We were all dressed in our best clothes and shepherded out in to the square. I wanted to stay by my brothers' sides and I put up an ineffectual protest, risking the anger of the peacekeepers, as we were arranged by our age. I stood frozen to the spot, shaking from my head to my toes as the girl's name was drawn out. Patri Galloway. I still remember her name. She was a couple of years older than me, from the Seam. She could barely stand up from the combined forces of hunger and fear. I watched as she stumbled up on to the stage, then froze solid, as I watched Effie Trinket dive with glee into the ball to draw out the name of the boy who would be joining her. All I could do was watch her hand as it swirled those names around, knowing that on six of those slips of paper was written the name 'Rhees Mellark,' four of them said 'Kern Mellark' and on one single slip of paper was the name 'Peeta Mellark.' I crossed my fingers as hard as I could, unable to breathe as I whispered in my head again and again, 'Please….please not us….please not us….' When the name Garl Easterlow was drawn I nearly cried out in relief.

Patri and Garl did better than most from District Twelve; they at least both survived the first day. Garl was killed on day three by the careers; pinned down by one while another gleefully hacked at his neck with a serrated blade, not stopping once he was dead. The career who killed him fully decapitated him. The other careers sensed that this boy was clearly deranged and turned on him themselves which started up a second blood bath, from which only one career walked away, grievously injured. Patri came across him stumbling through some trees and finished him off with garrotting wire that she had managed to acquire. She survived another two days until she was finally killed by a girl from District Eight with a knife between her shoulder blades.

I don't know why I remember those Games so clearly. Perhaps because the relief I felt at surviving my first Reaping heightened my interest in what I had escaped. For several weeks afterwards whenever I closed my eyes I pictured myself in Garl's place, unable to move while someone tore at my neck.

Every year was the same. Vague fear in the run up, blind panic the night before, relief coupled with survivor's guilt in the weeks after. And then last year… The name that came out of that first ball…. Primrose Everdeen. I immediately sought out Katniss in the crowd, wishing to offer her some kind of silent support, even though she didn't know me….But before I had found her of my own volition she spoke up. She volunteered to take her sister's place, and the universe came crashing down around me. I watched her take her place on the stage, frightened but defiant, and a part of me wanted to rush up there and throw my arms around her. Then my own name was called out. At first it didn't register. It didn't seem possible. It was too unfair that the world could be this cruel. Someone behind me pushed me forward and my legs turned to stone as I stumbled forward to take my place. Inside I was screaming, inside I was running, inside I was begging for forgiveness from the cruel fates. I caught my dad's eyes and they showed a combination of shock, defeat and sorrow. I kept thinking I must have fallen asleep after all, and that I was soon going to wake up, and that this terrible nightmare wouldn't be real.

And now here I am again. I shouldn't be in this situation again, that I cannot sleep for my family's or my own safety. And yet thanks to the Capitol's bloodlust, every single person in this district has to fear for their lives today. If I could just go to Katniss, I would be able to find comfort in her arms… I wonder if she is lying in her bed thinking the same…. But my pride dictates that I stay here, lying in the darkness, alone, offering my standard prayer to non-existing deities until the sun comes up.

After what feels like an age the darkness starts to lift, flooding my room with a cold grey light. When I feel like I can no longer stand being still and inactive I get up, shower and dress.

I feel stifled indoors and head outside for some air. There is no sign of life coming from Haymitch's home; he'll be unlikely to be seen before midday, but there are already lights on in Katniss's home. Part of me wants to go round, to see her, just to spend time in her company. I sit down on my doorstep, breathing in the morning air and am considering what I would say to her if I went to her when her front door opens and there she is, hunting bag slung over one shoulder. Our gaze meets for a moment and she looks unsure of what to say or do. I stand up, turn around and walk back inside, closing the door behind me.

The feeling in our home is incredibly subdued all morning. The bakery has stayed closed, Kern has made the journey from town to the Victor's Village, and the four of us sit around the kitchen table in near silence. Their chances are good; in an ironic twist all tesserae taken as children will result in an extra chance of being drawn. Thankfully we never needed to take tesserae, meaning my brothers and my father will only have their names in the Reaping Ball once each. I think of Katniss's friend Gale Hawthorn; Thanks to the tesserae he took over the years his name will be in there thirty six times.

Gale. I wonder bitterly if she tried to sleep with him first He probably would have seen the ploy a mile away and turned her down. Not me. Not poor, stupid, lovesick, gullible Peeta. I think again of those thirty six pieces of paper with a kind of vindictive pleasure, instantly feeling regret. I can't wish the Hunger Games on anyone, no matter who they are, or what they have done. No one deserves that hell.

When it nears half past one, my father stands, takes a deep breath and says, "Let's get this over with."

We walk in silence to the square in front of the Hall of Justice. I hug each member of my family in turn, and promise I will see them after the Games; once the names have been drawn I will be taken back to the Capitol. There are three seats by the side of the stage that have been reserved for Haymitch, Katniss and myself. Katniss is already sat in the left hand chair. Haymitch has not yet made an appearance. I take the empty seat on the right, staring straight ahead.

"Hey," she says quietly by way of greeting.

"Hey," I respond, still not looking at her.

"Peeta, how long are y-"

"Don't," I say, cutting her off. "Just don't."

We sit in terse silence a while, until Effie appears, positively beaming with excitement until she spies the two of us. "What's this?" she says incredulous, indicating the gulf between us.

Haymitch stumbles up on stage, draping his arm around Effie's shoulders, "Lover's tiff," he smirks.

"Yes, well, that won't do for the cameras. Get it together, you too, kiss and make up!" With a heavy sigh, I shift a seat along. "Hold hands!" she says impatiently. It takes a real effort to force myself to do as I am told. "And smile!"

Haymitch falls heavily into the chair I recently vacated. Within seconds he is snoring gently. I'd probably laugh if the whole scenario wasn't so desperately tragic.

Effie walks out on to the stage along with Mayor Undersee. In moments a tense silence falls over the entire District. Mayor Undersee gives his usual speech about the history of Panem and the Treaty of Treason before introducing Haymitch first. He is still snoring and I have to give him a swift kick to the shins to wake him up. He stumbles on to the stage and collapses in to a seat. "And," continues the Mayor, "please welcome the latest victors from District Twelve, Katniss Everdeen and Peeta Mellark."

I fix a smile on my face, and we walk out on to the stage, all waves, and smiles and carefree kisses. Damn, we're good liars.

Effie starts to blabber on about what a pleasure it is to be back in District Twelve. The words seem hollow to me and I'm certain to every single resident of District Twelve. She finishes with her usual, "May the odds be ever in your favour," and steps up to the first Reaping Ball. "Ladies first," she adds with a little giggle. This is it. Katniss grips me tighter than ever, and despite whatever feelings I currently have towards her, I return the gesture, trying to reassure her. Effie pulls a name from the ball and totters up to the microphone, reading in a clear voice, "Ava Herriot!" Next to me I feel a shudder of clear relief come from Katniss. Prim is safe for another year.

A petite, blonde girl I do not know of about 15 is making her way to the stage. Already I can see the tears threatening to spill from her eyes. She hastily wipes them away before turning to face the crowd.

"Excellent, excellent," smiles Effie. "And now for the second lady!" She reaches in to the next glass ball, this one filled with the names of all the adult women in the district. Katniss's grip tightens yet again. "Hettie Undersee!" A gasp goes up from across the town square. Hettie Undersee. The Mayor's ill wife. The Capitol really is showing they have dominion over all. I glance to my left and see Mayor Undersee's shocked face as he watches his wife climb unsteadily up here, clutching her own head, and shaking visibly. He rushes forward to comfort her and is immediately forced back in to his own seat by Peacekeepers.

"How exciting!" exclaims Effie. "And now for the boys!" She moves on to the third ball, and immediately draws out a slip of paper. "Rafe Cronin!" I quickly spot Rafe in the crowd. He looks pale, but is gritting his teeth, and doesn't falter as he makes his way to the stage. "One more to go!" She walks over to the final ball. My heart is in my throat, as I begin my silent prayer. Please keep them safe…Please, please, please….keep them safe…..

"Steffan Mellark!"

I am on my feet in an instant, pushing forward. I am only vaguely aware of Katniss and Haymitch who are both holding me back. All I can hear is blood pounding in my ears and I am aware of terrible rushing sensation, that feels like falling from a great height. The words spill from my mouth almost of their own volition.

"NO!" I break free from my friendly captors. "I volunteer as tribute!"

A/N – Thanks for reading folks Please leave a review if you like what you read, as my muse feeds on them, which will cause me to write faster ;)