I stood besides a very silent Marie, watching the Justice Building of District 7. My wand was tight strongly to my right thigh. I couldn't get to it easily there, but at least I had it with me.
On the podium stood Evanis, the uncaring guy from Capitol, who came two 7 every year to pull scraps out of the bowl, say two kids' name in an indifferent voice and then escort them to town. His hand shot into the first bowl.
"Kim Railow," he said. He scowled annoyed at the trembling boy (not yet fourteen, judging from his appearance), who slowly walked to the podium. Again, he let his hand down and took up another paper, this time from the girls' bowl. Suddenly, Marie grabbed my hand and squeezed it so hard, I could've screamed.
"Jessica Crawley," he said as indifferent as ever.
Wait. No. What? I must've heard wrongly. But why were everyone looking at me, then? Marie hugged me quickly before giving me a little push against the podium. I walked up there in a haze.
They locked me in a room in the Justice Building. I thought about trying to apparate out of here, but after a while, the door opened, and my parents stumbled into the room, embracing me before I could as much as open my mouth to say what I wanted to, no, wanted was too weak a word, what I needed to say.
"Jessica," my dad began. No. He wasn't my dad. And she wasn't my mum. "Do you remember what I taught you in the woods, about fires?"
"Yes, but.."
"Remember to eat properly while you are in Capitol. You won't know what you'll get afterwards, sweetheart," my mum said and kissed my front head, so I could feel her tears on my face.
"I will, but please.."
"Don't let them kill you. Do you hear me? Promise me you'll come back to us!"
"But I.."
"No. Not but, just do it. It's kill or be killed. Kill the others and come back home. You can do this. My daughter can do this!"
"STOP IT!" I yelled. "Get off me! DO'NT TOUCH ME!" I jolted backwards, and pounded in to the wall behind me. "I am not your daughter. This is not my home. I have no idea whatsoever about how I ended up in this wicked place, and all I want to do is get home. I hate you. So will you please tell me, who you are, and what memory charms you used on me, and, above all, how the hell I'm going to get out of here?!" They looked at each other, obviously sharing the same thought.
"Honey?" He tried to lay a hand on my shoulder, but I pulled away from him. "We've been around this. We are your parents. This is where you belong. We don't understand. Why are you doing this to us?"
"STOP IT!" Something I hadn't felt since before I started at Hogwarts when I was eleven, fought its way out of me, and the windows shattered to pieces as I unwillingly conjured a magical explosion.
Peacekeepers flooded the room within a second and hived me out of there and into another room before I even got an extra look at the man and the woman, who thought they were my parents. I'm not your daughter, I said to them. I hate you. No matter how unreal they were, I still remembered him cuddling me when I'd fallen down the stairs as a five-year-old and hit my knee, and her sneaking out in the night with me, showing me the stars and telling me their names. This was their reality, they had done this with me, and I had thanked them by declaring my hatred and leaving them, well knowing that I most likely would be dead before we got another opportunity to meet.