Quick Note: I've decided to write out the numbers of the districts instead of just having the number. Yeah, it might seem small to you, but it's kinda annoying me xD

Train Rides Part One

A Cannon in the Wind;

The Fifth Hunger Games

Vesper Quinn, 18;

District One Male.

I follow my escort Aquila into the sleek tribute train, and the door closes behind me, by itself. I almost want to sigh in relief at that; those Capitol people and their cameras were seriously trying my patience. Right before boarding the train, a surplus of Capitol reporters wanted to take pictures of Adeline and I, and they even had the audacity to ask us questions.

"How do you feel about representing your district, Adeline?"

"Are you proud, Vesper?"

"Do you two think you can win these Games?"

Adeline tried to answer a few questions, though she kept stumbling over her words. Obviously she wasn't as pleased about this as she wanted them to think. Me, however—well, I ignored every single word they said to me. I hate these supercilious Capitolites, and I'm not going to put on a façade for them.

I'm not like the rest of my stuck-up district.

"Well, here you have it!" Aquila exclaims, motioning for us to walk deeper into the train. Adeline smiles, almost shyly, and she quickens her step. I follow behind, but at a much more slower pace.

After a few seconds, we make it to the kitchen—and even though I'm not surprised, considering it's the Capitol we're talking about, it does shock me a bit. The train has thick, deep carpets all around, with chairs made of velvet and even a bit of gold lining. The table is set with a lot of highly breakable glassware, filled with drinks of many different colors. There's unique-looking plates of food plastered around the area, too; it looks more like art than nourishment.

Our Escort sees the looks of astonishment on our faces and smiles.

"I know, I know. Gorgeous, right?" She giggles, pointing down the hallway. "You each have your own room, obviously, and the drawers are filled with dozens and dozens of different clothes to wear. You also have a private bathroom, so I suggest refreshing a bit before lunch."

"Lunch?" I question incredulously. "With all of this food here?" Considering my housing predicament, I hardly ever have enough to eat. Even in Panem's richest district, I never go to bed full. I eat what I can, and then save the rest for a rainy day—which, for me, is every day.

And she's telling me that the Capitol can leave this food out, just waiting to be devoured, and then have more for lunch?

"What? This stuff here?" She looks behind herself, at the plates and plates of colorful entrees. And then, annoyingly, she laughs. "Oh sweetie, this here is just the snacks—which, since we're on the subject, I advise not eating. Wouldn't want to ruin your little appetite."

I blink, before scowling. Her patronizing tone is seriously pushing on my nerves.

"What about our mentor?" Adeline asks, suddenly speaking up. Her voice is soft, yet strong—like she's trying to hide the softness. "I didn't see Jewell up onstage during the Reapings."

That's true, she wasn't there this year. I don't care much about District One's lone Victor, but it'd be really unfortunate if she just up and died. It happens.

Death happens all the time, actually.

"Don't worry, your mentor is in the Capitol. All of the Victors were summoned for an interview or something, but you'll get to meet her soon!"

"Oh." Adeline looks down, a small smile on her face. "Thank you."

Raising a brow, I stare at my District Partner, sizing her up. If I'm going to come back to my district of idiots, she'll have to die; I need to see if she's going to be a problem in the future.

And right now, I don't see one. Adeline looks up and smiles at me, another one of her shy little smiles. Does she expect me to smile back? In a week, we'll have to kill each other. There's absolutely nothing to smile about. She's stupid if she thinks so.

"I'll leave you two to your business then," Aquila says. I turn away from my District Partner, meeting my Escort's pink eyes. She smiles, creepily. "If you need anything, Vesper, all you have to do is come and ask."

She reaches her hand out to touch my arm—but I wrench it away, scowling at the woman in disgust. Who does she think she is?!

"Do not touch me," I hiss, glaring daggers. The older lady shrinks under my stare. "Don't you ever touch me."

Adeline looks shocked, while Aquila looks on the verge of shitting herself. "E-Excuse me? What's wrong, dear?"

I've been holding it in for a while—but I can't, not anymore. Whenever I look at this lady, I think of my mother, I think of my father. I think of how my entire life turned upside-down, all because of her, all because of them. They made life not worth living anymore.

"I hate you. I hate you, and I hate this situation, and I hate everyone in the motherfucking Capitol! And I don't want any of you to touch me!" Before I do something I'll later regret, I storm away from the two females.

I open a door located in the hallway, and I'm thankful to see that it's a room. The bed is a big one, maybe a queen-size, and the covers are a royal blue. There's another door in the room, most likely the bathroom. I think of going in there and taking a shower to calm my nerves...but no, not right now. I just need to lie down, get my emotions together.

I close and lock the door behind me—and before I know it, I'm lying on the bed, my head resting on the most comfortable pillow I've ever felt.

It sickens me.

The food, the luxury, the Hunger Games. All of it makes me sick to my stomach, because they're the ones who own it all. They can kill whoever they want, break families apart—and they have the gall to take children away from their family and force them to fight to the death?

It's so pointless.

All of this, even life itself, is so pointless.

But now, you have an opportunity, I tell myself, shutting my eyes. You can finally make your life better. Even though it's the Hunger Games, even though it's beyond idiotic, you can do it.

I can do it.

I can win the Hunger Games; I can create a better life for myself.

I have absolutely nothing to lose.

Echo Woods, 17;

District Two Female.

This wasn't supposed to happen.

I rub my fingers over my token—Reyna's necklace, the one she never takes off. I don't know why she gave it to me—I'll be back in a month, if that—but it does help calm my nerves. It's warmed with her body heat, and it smells just like her. I guess, if I had to take something, this would be my best bet.

I didn't want to take anything to the Capitol with me, though, because I don't want to partake in the Hunger Games.

My life was carefully planned out; I was supposed to continue my training, become a Peacekeeper after I turned eighteen, and live the rest of my life contentedly with Reyna. The Hunger Games weren't even something I bothered myself with, because what were the odds of me seriously being reaped?

Big enough, apparently.

I mean, I'm not scared. Definitely not scared. The Capitol is a bit more lenient towards District Two; they won't send Mutts after me, or lure me into a trap, or do anything. As long as I can kill for them—and I can kill for them—they'll leave me be.

And honestly, that's all I have to worry about. The other tributes can't even begin to compare to me, so I won't have to worry about them. Even though I haven't seen them yet, I know.

Sighing, I scowl at the foreign pastry in front of me. Even though I'm not going to die, it's irritating that I have to do this in the first place. I'm not against the Capitol—it isn't their fault I'm here, it's the rebels'—nor am I even against the Hunger Games. Us in District Two, we don't usually worry about things like that, because we'll always have an advantage should something unexpected occurs.

And true to my words, something unexpected did happen. I was reaped—but I'm prepared, I'm more prepared than anyone right now. I can do this; I am going to do this.

"...One to two...no more holes...that's true..."

"What are you mumbling about?" I snap at Kostos, my stupid District Partner. Ever since we boarded the train, he's been mumbling strange things to himself. He's also a part of the reason why I'm so irate. "I'm thinking right now, so shut up."

I know I'm probably being too harsh, but right now, I'm too irritated to care. And besides, what's the point of being cordial to him anyway? When I go back home, he'll be dead. There's just no point.

Surprisingly, though, Kostos just looks up and smiles at me. "Sorry," he says. His voice is higher than most boys I know. Has he not gone through puberty or something?

I look away from him, back to the un-eaten food item in front of me. There's no reason for me to talk to him at all, actually. I mean, usually the pair from District Two ally together...but I just don't know about that this year. If he's going to get the satisfaction of allying with me, then he needs to show me some promise. No way will I be carrying dead weight around throughout my time in the Arena.

Not that I need any allies. I'm better off being alone in the first place.

"So," Kostos begins, stretching the word out. I look back up at him, frowning. What does he want now? "You're that mean lesbian girl, right?"

The words take me by surprise. "Huh?!"

"Yeah, I think I've heard about you. You and that other girl go out—isn't her name Rain or something?"

"Reyna," I correct, almost spitting the name out. I have a reason to be mad, don't I? I've been reaped for the Hunger Games, nobody decided to volunteer for me, and now this boy I've never seen before is talking as if we're long-lost siblings. "Excuse me for asking, but how in the hell do you know any of this about me?"

Kostos grins. "Girls talk. I listen. And sometimes, I even remember things."

"Right." Rolling my eyes, I get up from my seat. This guy's going to really get on my nerves, I can tell. My bitchy attitude isn't driving him away like it's supposed to.

Before I can go off to my room or something, though, Kostos moves, faster than I expect from someone like him. I flinch—and he uses that small moment of weakness to press me against the wall, surprisingly gentle. His face is literally inches away, his blue eyes staring straight into mine.

"Why're you leaving so early? What's the rush?" He asks—and the only reason I'm not pummeling this guy to the ground is because I'm so shocked he's doing this in the first place. He seemed a little on the sweet side, if you catch my drift. "I know you're not into guys, but dangerous experiences are known to change people. Why not get to know each other a bit before we get to the Capitol?"

Is he suggesting—? I heat up, my shocked expression turning into a scowl. Before I realize what I'm doing myself, I grab his arm and twist, shoving the perv off of me. He hits the wall opposite to mine, a pained smile on his face.

"So you can fight," he says, chuckling. That big grin of his comes back, and he scratches the back of his head.

"Don't laugh!" I snap, trying—and failing—to contain my rage. "How dare you suggest something like that?! I have a girlfriend! I love her! You—! I'd never—!"

My anger just makes him laugh harder. "I was kidding, I was kidding!" He tries to hide his smile behind his hand when he sees the look of murder that no-doubt crosses my face. "Seriously, I just wanted to lighten the mood. You looked mad earlier, so..."

"Yeah, whatever." I close my eyes, pinching my nose. Like, what is wrong with people? Each day I live, I get more and more irritated with them. "Just leave me alone, Kostos. Not everyone wants to be here like you."

I don't want to be here, but nonetheless, I'm going to make the best of it. During goodbyes, Reyna made sure to note the positives instead of the negatives—like how I finally get to see our beloved Capitol, or how I can use this opportunity to the fullest.

So that's what I'll do. I'll use this opportunity to my advantage. After I win these Games, the Capitol will be so impressed with me that they'll make me the Head Peacekeeper or something. And living in the Victor's Village with Reyna would be heavenly.

So I'll win the Hunger Games, and that's all there is to it. Twenty-three others will have to die, but if that's how it has to be, then that's how it's going to be. It's not my place to question the Capitol.

For all they've done, I'm forever loyal.

Iris Logan, 12;

District Three Female.

"You two should really eat up! Both of you are just so scrawny!"

My escort Balbina laughs to herself, scooping up some slimy yellow stuff with her fork. She called it macarit and cheese or something, but it just looks nasty to me.

I look down at the food placed in front of me. It's bread, cheese, and squashed tomatoes mixed into a triangle shape—a pizza, I think she told me. It smells so good, but I just don't understand. How do you make food like this? And why?

I'm too scared to taste it—and besides, my stomach isn't feeling it anyway. The fear builds up there, making home inside my intestines, feeding on my anxieties. I'm scared.

I've just been reaped for the Hunger Games. I just saw my mommy, my daddy, and my twin sister for the last time. It hurts, thinking about things like this. But I can't stop. Why me? Why did she pick my name? It's not fair, not fair, not fair.

It's just so unfair.

"Come on, sweetie." Balbina gives me a look of concern, a bit of cheese on her lip. If I was in my right mind, I'd tell her about it, maybe even wipe it off for her! But I'm not in my right mind right now.

I'm just so scared.

I just don't want to die.

"I'm sorry..." My voice is weak, breaking at the smallest of syllables. Suddenly, my eyes sting—but I shut them close, not daring to cry again. I may be weak, I may be about to die, but I can still be strong. I really, really can.

My Escort sighs, putting some more of that cheesy stuff in her mouth. She's given up all hope in me now, I can tell. First it was Tet; she couldn't even get a word out of him. And now it's me. I'm sorry, I want to say, but I can't.

Speaking of Tet, I glance over at him. He's still in the same spot, sitting in a chair at the very side of the train, staring out the window. My Escort said something about him being in shock, and maybe he is, but I can't help but just feel sorry for him.

I snort. Look at me. Feeling sorry for a boy older than me. For a split second, a sad smile crosses my face. At least this whole thing isn't breaking me completely.

That's one thing I can't let happen to me. My parents, my sister, my friends—they all know me by my sunny smile, my cheery attitude, my helpful personality. If they saw me now, moping like this, refusing to eat food graciously given to me...

I swallow down my tears, chuckling to myself. Don't let this break you, Iris. Even you can be strong if you really try.

I can; I know I can.

"What? What's funny?" Balbina gives me a look of confusion, but shrugs it off when I don't say anything, going back to eating her food. Even though she's partly why I'm here in the first place, I can't hate her. She's been nothing but nice to me ever since I got here.

I should be the same.

Picking up a fork, I stab the pizza, trying to pick it up. For a few moments, I keep trying to eat the pizza with the fork, but it's just not working! Why is it so hard to eat this stuff? Do the Capitol people do this on purpose?

Suddenly, I hear a laugh. Looking up, I see my Escort covering her mouth, her shoulders shaking. She's...laughing at me? They really are doing this on purpose, aren't they?

"You don't eat it like that, sweetie," she says, closing her eyes to control her laughter. I blink, feeling my face get hot.

"Oh."

"Here, you eat it like this." She grabs a slice of pizza from the large saucer in the middle of our table, handling it like a professional. I stare, perplexed and slightly amazed, as she brings the pizza to her mouth and chews on the end. Sighing contentedly, she places the rest on her plate, still chewing. "Do exactly what I did, dear. Go on, try it!"

"Okay..." I grab the pizza like how she did, slowly bringing it to my mouth. Honestly, I'm not really hungry, and this weird Capitol food isn't very appetizing...but it's the least I can do for Balbina. She's trying hard to help me, and I need to let her know that I'm grateful.

Because I really am grateful. I'll need all the help I can get to get through this. And in return, I'll give help back.

It's just what I do.

I take a bite—and instantly, the taste explodes in my mouth. I hum, savoring it, my taste buds melting in delight. It's delicious! I take another bite, and another, and another—and before I know it, the whole pizza is gone, digesting in my stomach.

Balbina laughs when I reach for another piece, and I end up laughing at her laughter. In seconds, we're both laughing, cheese on her lips and cheese on my hands.

The Capitol people may be a bit messed up inside—but they're still people, they can still be sweet and kind when they want to be. As long as I'm good to my Escort, I think she'll be good to me.

"Well, the Reaping Recaps will be on in an hour or two," she tells me, and just like that, my mood plummets again. I had momentarily forgotten about the Hunger Games; I had momentarily forgotten about my death.

I glance over at Tet, who's still staring out the window. He hasn't moved an inch since we got on this train. Is that how he's coping with all this?

Trying to smile, I get up from my seat. I can help him adjust, if anything. I mean, I'm still not fully adjusted myself—but helping him just might help me. And being that sweet, helpful girl again is just what I need.

I may end up dead in a week, but that doesn't mean I'll let them take away my shine.

I won't let them break me.

Ula Dylan, 18;

District Four Female.

I stare at the gold ring Pond gave me, watching as it shines in the light. It's very pretty, probably the prettiest thing I've ever seen before. For him to have given me something like this, something so beautiful and expensive...

I still remember the way his body trembled when he hugged me, the way his lips felt when he kissed me. It wasn't long at all—but it was enough. Enough to swallow down my apprehension and promise him that I'll be back.

Because I have to come back home. For him, for my sisters, for myself.

As if swimming in a sea of memories, all I can think about as I sit at the extravagant dining table are the Goodbyes. "Be strong," my dad told me, before embracing me in a long hug. Even though there were no tears in his eyes, he was trembling against me. Being the amazing father he is, he didn't want to break down in front of my three sisters.

And that's good—because if he were to cry, I would've cried. And coming out of the Justice Building with red puffy eyes after volunteering wouldn't have been a good look.

Immediately after thinking that thought, I snort. A good look. I close my eyes, the ring clutched in my hands. From here on out, I have to look good. I have to make these Capitol people like me, love me, sponsor me. Can I seriously do that?

"So, what shall my lovely volunteer eat today?" My escort Cassian asks me, smiling. He's finally put on a proper shirt, and hopefully he's thrown that fake trident away. Seeing any sort of weapon makes me sick, especially after what I'll have to soon go through...

I shake my head, clenching my fists under the table. "Anything is fine," I say, keeping my voice low and controlled. I'm trying. Trying to keep my cool, trying to raise my chances, trying to stay alive.

He nods, his smile turning into a flat-out grin. "Okay. Lobster for District Four it is!"

...Seriously?

"Um..." Caio catches our attention, an almost sheepish look on his face. "Can I get something to eat, too?"

Our Escort glances at him, his enthusiasm gone with the wind. It's horribly obvious who's the favorite here—it's me, and I'm not too sure how I feel about that.

"Why? I gave you a choice when we came in earlier." The Capitolite's voice is vexing, his patronizing tone making Caio frown. "Eat the snacks plastered around, or wait until lunch. You, unlike your lovely District Partner, chose to eat then and there—so no lunch for you! You'll just have to wait until dinner."

"And who made you the boss of my eating schedule?" Caio demands, that irritated attitude of his coming back. After the Reapings, he seemed more quiet and subdued. I'd even go so far as to say friendly. But Cassian brings the worst emotions out of anyone.

Caio just isn't afraid to voice his emotions. And that'll be the death of him.

Don't say that, I think, immediately. Don't turn into that kind of person already.

Caio and Cassian argue for a bit, and all the while I'm dead silent, just watching. I do that a lot; listening to people is better than talking, observing people is better than being the one observed. Unless it's something I'm really passionate about, you'll never see me leading a conversation.

Caio isn't a bad person at all, contrary to our Escort's beliefs. He's pretty quiet around me, but he won't bite his tongue whenever our Escort says something to him. And for some reason, it takes him a long time to make a decision. When Cassian asked us to choose between eating now or later, it took Caio nearly five minutes to give a straight answer. In the end, Caio chose to eat then—and now he's regretting that decision, it looks like.

"Fine!" Our Escort looks away, fuming. "What do you want to eat then?"

And just like that, Caio's angry expression turns into a troubled one. I stare, almost amused, as he ponders the question for a bit. And then, he turns towards me. The unspoken question is as clear as day: What should I get?

"Have you ever tried lobster before?" I ask him, trying to smile despite the emotions running rampant through my body. He shakes his head. "Yeah, me neither. But there's a first time for everything, so why not give it a shot with me?"

Caio nods, turning back to our Escort. "I guess I'll be getting the lobster..."

"Great," the Capitol man replies, obviously miffed—and then he goes off to order the food or something. When he does, I relax my posture, letting out all the troubled emotions with one long sigh. I seriously hate that man.

Suddenly, Caio looks at me, smiling the first smile I've ever seen him smile. "Thanks," he says.

"No problem." Reciprocating the smile is the problem, but I somehow find strength to do it anyway. I can be that kind, helpful girl; I can be any type of girl I have to be.

But can I be a killer? Is that what the Capitol expects me to be?

Do I even have a choice?

I already know the answer to that question. I don't have a choice. If I'm ever going to return home, I'll have to say whatever the Capitol wants me to say, do whatever the Capitol wants me to do...

Kill whoever the Capitol wants me to kill.

Can I seriously do something like that? Turn into something I'm so clearly not?

I don't know.

Alexandra Fearn, 14;

District Five Female.

"This food is disgusting." I shove the plate away, wiping my mouth. Michael gives me a look, his brown eyes displaying the innocence lying within. It'll be sad when he dies—because let's face it, he's going to die fast.

I'm probably going to die, too. But you can't die. There's too many people on the line here.

"Young lady, that is no way to behave!" My escort Drusas berates me, wagging his finger like I'm some sort of dog. "This may not be the kind of slop you ate back in your district, but—"

"Don't even finish that sentence," I interrupt, narrowing my eyes. "Because you sound extremely ignorant. You have no idea what we eat in District Five, so don't just assume that it's slop because we're supposedly lower than you amazing Capitol people."

I've learned pretty quickly just how two-faced and irritating my Escort truly is. In front of cameras, he acts all goofy and stupid—but when he's alone with us, his true colors are shone. He thinks he's better than everyone else, and the amount of compassion he feels for us are nonexistent.

Well, he's not dealing with a crybaby this year.

If he wants to be a dick, I'll be a bitch.

"You are such a disappointment, Alexandra." His face is red, his nose turned up in disgust. "You volunteered for this, so I thought that you'd be a bit more pleasant than the usual brats I have to deal with. Unfortunately, my first impression deceives me."

"Maybe you should learn not to base everything on appearances." I point at all the decorations placed around—the chandeliers, the gold, the unidentifiable drinks. All of this luxury, wasted on two teenagers that are going to die.

Stop saying that. You'll survive through this. You don't have a choice, Ali.

"But if you're going by first impressions, I will, too. Everyone in the Capitol are vain, self-preoccupied freaks who eat rainbows for breakfast, lunch, and dinner."

"That's enough!" Drusas exclaims, slamming his hands on the table. "You really need to learn a thing or two about respect, missy, because that's the only way you're going to survive in this world. You can bad-mouth the food, fine—but don't you dare disrespect me, because I'm the only way you'll get sponsors. And without sponsors, volunteer or not, you can kiss your victory goodbye!"

And with that declaration, he gets up from his seat and storms off, probably to go powder his nose or something. I smirk, crossing my arms.

Well, I didn't think that through, now did I?

But on a serious note, I really despise him.

These Capitol people are disgusting. Like, honestly disgusting. They kill our families, obliterate thousands upon thousands of people in District Thirteen, and now they're slowly breaking the districts' population, slowly breaking away their spirit.

They kill children.

And the sad part is, they really enjoy it.

I mean, the Hunger Games are bad, but it wouldn't be so bad if the Capitol people didn't truly enjoy watching kids die. Unlike most people, I see the cleverness put into these Games, the Games' true meaning. Take twenty-four children away from their families, make their deaths as public and gruesome as possible, and do it all again next year. Sooner or later, the districts will get the message: Don't fight back, don't ever raise a hand against us—because we can do this and so much more.

It's brilliant.

And I hate it.

I sigh, running a hand through my coal-black hair. Without my Escort to piss off, it's awfully quiet. It was stupid to make him mad, I realize that. But how else am I supposed to act? Because of this evil society, I was condemned to a fate worse than death. Not exactly reaped, but basically the same thing.

And I'm scared. I try to act like it's not real, that I'm not heading off to a city of people cheering for my demise...but it's hard. I'm just fourteen; I'm just a kid; I don't want to die.

Well, maybe you shouldn't have been dealing in adult affairs. I ignore that annoying voice in my head.

"From how he reacted, it was as if he was the one that cooked this food," I say to myself, rolling my eyes. I would get up and go to my room now, maybe even cry, but the Reaping Recaps will be on soon and I need to see my competition.

I'm not the type to sit back and let people walk all over me. I may end up without a head, killing my family in the process, but I won't lie down and wallow in depression. I've seen too many tributes go crazy during the Games, and I won't be one of them. My mind is literally the only thing I have going for me.

"Maybe he did cook it. That'd be a plot twist."

I look up, and Michael's smiling at me. It's a smile peppered with sadness, but it's a smile nonetheless.

He almost looks familiar. It takes me a moment to realize why—and when I do, my reclusive nature starts to unwind. I'm talking too much, giving Michael the idea that I want to be friends or allies or something. I can't be allies with Michael; he's a bloodbath, that much is certain, and getting attached to people isn't something I plan on doing.

Not again. It hurt the first time.

It'll kill me the next time.

Breno Harmont, 17;

District Six Male.

"Hello, citizens of Panem, and welcome to the Reaping Recaps for the Fifth annual Hunger Games!" Aeliana Devrine grins, enthusiastically waving at the cameras. She's the Hunger Games' Interviewer, and from the amount of applause she's getting, I can guess that she's really loved by those colorful Capitol people.

Yet another thing that divides the Capitol from the districts. In District Six, we don't have any celebrities or anything like that. Not even a Victor to call our own. There's the mayor, sure, but nobody really jumped for joy whenever he greeted us.

Maybe because the one day that he truly did greet us, two of our own were being shipped off to die.

And this year, I'm that lucky male.

It's scary, being a tribute for the Hunger Games, knowing that I'm expected to woo millions of people and then kill twenty-three others. The Games were always so far away that I could ignore them. And at the same time, it was always so close enough to snatch me up.

And after five years of ignoring them, I was finally caught. At least I lived my life to the fullest, I think, frowning.

Aeliana talks a bit more, complimenting a few districts for being standouts this year. Of course, District Six isn't one of them. But why would we be? With a thirteen-year-old girl and a boy like me? I'm surprised they didn't put us on the Bloodbath list.

"But anyway, let's start with District One, shall we?"

The screen cuts away from the Capitolite's smiling face, going to District One's Reaping. At this moment, I look away, down to my bowl of soup. What's the point of looking at some boy who'll be more handsome than me, or some beautiful girl I'll never understand?

The end result will be the same. A knife straight through my forehead.

Suddenly, my Capitol Escort walks in. Vita is her name, and on her unnatural pale face is a troubled expression. She sits down right in front of me, sighing, running a hand through those orange locks of hers. Chip and I always wondered whether or not it was her real hair.

It is, apparently. If the price of finally knowing wasn't my imminent death, I'd be pretty happy right now.

"Where's Ceres?" I ask. As soon as my District Partner and I walked onboard, Ceres mumbled something about crying to death and went off to her room. She hasn't come out since—and since it's time for lunch, Vita went to go see if she wanted to finally come and interact with us.

Apparently not.

"Ms. Cantrell said that she wasn't hungry," Vita responds, staring at the table. "This whole transition must be hard for her..."

She actually looks worried—which is endearing, if not irritating. She was the one who pulled Ceres' slip out of that bowl of thousands. If Vita really cared, why would she agree to be an Escort in the first place?

Other tributes would probably try to sympathize with their Escorts, but I just can't do that. From appearances, Vita looks like a nice, friendly woman. But I can't go by appearances. It's easy to get lulled into a false sense of security because of a person's outer appearance, which is why I can never trust someone within the first few minutes of meeting them. Probably not even the first few days.

It's so easy to get hurt in this world. This sick, yet beautiful world.

Suddenly, Vita smiles, all the worry wiped from her artificial face. "Well, I guess we know which tribute I should focus on, now don't we?"

See? She doesn't care. Not about Ceres, and not about me.

If she cared, if anyone in the Capitol truly cared, I'd still have my two brothers. I wouldn't be here.

"District One was nice, as usual," Aeliana says, her yellow hair tilting a bit. A wig, obviously. "They seem different from earlier years, don't they?"

Pictures pop up, showing Adeline and Vesper of District One. They do look a bit different this year. Adeline doesn't look like a complete bitch, while Vesper doesn't look as conceited as the boy from last year.

But as I said before, first impressions don't matter. Like in my Reaping, I tried to act secure and confident, when I'm everything but. These Reapings are for the Capitol, not for the tributes.

Nothing for the tributes. Except death, that is.

"Let's look at District Two, shall we?"

A redheaded girl is reaped, stating her name as Echo Woods. She looks confident, and strong. More confident than me, stronger than me. Suddenly, a boy volunteers, just like last year. Kostos Sylett is his name—and he looks kind, but just as confident as Echo. Both will be threats, that's for sure. Two tributes I absolutely need to stay away from.

"Two strong tributes from District Two, as usual," says Vita, trying to make small talk. And because I'm a friendly person, if not a bit hardened, I force a smile on my face.

"You must love that. Stronger tributes mean more bloodshed."

"That's right!" Vita's exclaims, suddenly really cheerful. The bells on her ears jingle as she nods her head; if she were in the districts, and I was with Ilene, we would've attempted to steal them. "I'm so happy that you understand! Most tributes are so closed-minded, you know?"

Closed-minded? Is that what she thinks?

And that's why I hate the Capitol, and everyone from it. They've killed millions, including my brothers—yet, they don't think they've done anything wrong. They don't think they're doing anything wrong.

Well, the district's may have started the violence, this may be our fault—but this is still wrong.

The Capitol, the war, the Hunger Games—it's all wrong.