I wake myself up from a feverish sleep when the clock reads 4:47. According to the schedule Effie gave me, I have more than two hours left before I have to get up, but I know I won't be able to fall back asleep. I don't want to fall back asleep. Sleep means that I can't control the thoughts, and the horrible panicked nightmares can seize my mind. So I get up. I'm going to go explore.

Since I haven't been expressly prohibited from leaving the penthouse, I figure that I can plead innocence if I get caught sneaking around. All the same, I ease open the door as quietly as I can so as not to disturb anyone. Unlike the rusted door of our house back in 12, this one swings open soundlessly. I'll be back soon, I think. If I feel like it. I can't see myself getting punished in any way that would matter, what are they going to do? Kick me out of the Games?

I slip out of the neon haze of the penthouse suite and into the cool, gray hallway. Directly across from our room is a sign directing me to the various attractions the building offers. There are Training Rooms on floor 1, but I am not interested in those- I'll see them soon enough! The trite Prep Rooms are on floor 3, the kitchens are on floor 2. Dormitories for us tributes are on floors 4-16. Because I am from District 12, we are on the top floor. I am about to go back into the penthouse to wait out the morning from within my cushy bed when I notice one final notation on the directory. So there's a roof to this place?

The steel doors of the elevator slide open and I tentatively step out into the morning fog. Ah. This is what I've missed. The fresh air, the real smells… There is even a small rooftop garden here, not unlike the one I keep at home. A glistening city skyline spreads before me, dangling the hope of a different life before my sleepy eyes. Buildings twice the size of anything in District 12 stretch their rooftops to the stars, and the vein-like roads shuttle early-morning commuters from place to place. This is beautiful. I drop my apprehensions at the elevator door, and lose myself in the secluded rooftop paradise. I take bold steps to the edge of the roof, further and further until I am challenging fate with my toes dangling off into the unknown. Jumping off becomes such a real possibility that I begin to plan my premature demise. I couldn't do that to them. What would happen to my mother? What would happen to Awren? Would they have to go back to 12 and get another little girl? Suddenly, suicide becomes the selfish choice. I have to stay. I have to stay with Awren, and my mother, and the people who need me.

With my revelation comes the sun, peeking over the tops of the majestic Capitol buildings. I am almost surprised to see that it is the same sun that rose each morning on the woods in District 12. Closing my eyes, I can pretend to be back there. Just another morning of herb gathering in the woods. I can nearly smell the earthy aromas, and hear the birds chirping sweet melodies. But then, I can't. The only smell is the manufactured smell of the city, and the only sound traffic. This is no paradise, I remind myself. And this is not your home.

I step down off the edge of the roof. The wonder and magic allures of the roof have been stripped away with my fantasies of 12, and I am left feeling emptier and lonelier than ever. Still, I'm not quite ready to leave my solitude, so I sit on the roof and wait. For once in my life, I have time to kill. It's so peaceful. So serene in a surreal way, like the calm before the storm. And I do believe the storm is nearly upon me.

I am back in the penthouse at a quarter to seven, but my absence has been noted. My mother is sitting at the table waiting for me.

"Where were you?" Fire blazes through her eyes, bringing life to her usually callous features.

"The roof," I reply. Coolly and calm-as-you-please, I step around her to move towards my room.

"I suppose you think you can do that," she challenges. I sense the danger in her tone and turn back to face her. She is trembling with rage, but tears are also pouring down her face. "You think that because you're a tribute you can just do whatever you like, that you can just run away to the roof and no one will care because you're as good as dead already! Don't you know what it does to me? Don't you know what it's like? I'm losing you Prim! I lost your father, and your sister, and now I'm losing you too, and it's killing me."

"No mom," I shake my head and turn away once more. "You never had me. You lost me when you abandoned me." And you can never get me back.