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I woke up shivering, covered in only my gray jacket on my barely-clothed body. A vomit green raggedy shirt that reached right above my waist, and thin, faded jeans that were right below my knees, almost two sizes too big around the waist.

I looked over and scanned the floor until I found my father, wearing as much clothes as I was, yet his jacket was wrapped around my little brother, Ricky, who was only 1 years old. I was 12, and had to take care of him most of the time. My father was pale and I laid my hand on his head. It was as cold as ice. I quickly went over to him with my jacket and covered us both. "Thank you, Rose." I heard him speak, and I shuddered. "Thanks, Johnson." I softly spoke. I called my father by our last name. How long has he been awake? It didn't matter. He stroked his hand through my hair, and I started to drift to sleep when all of the sudden, the windows brightened, lighting up the dark moist room. It was day time. I yawned and stretched my arms up, and grabbed my dagger. That's how I killed outside the fence in the woods in District 12.

There used to be 13 districts total, but I forgot what my father had told me. They were wiped out though, and that's how my mother died. She was there when it happened, and I asked father what she was doing there, but he didn't tell me. He denied to share the facts about my mother, except for saying I look like a mirror image of her: wavy blonde hair, sparkling blue eyes, and pale skin.

I sighed and headed out to the gate. Everyone checked for the hum of the gate, it was supposedly electrified 24/7, but everyone knew that it wasn't. I still checked for the hum. I didn't hear anything but the birds chirping out in the woods. The killing of animals is an illegal task, and selling them a more severely punishable crime. As in death. I still crawled under a opening in the fence.

I met my friend, Lisa, near our favorite tree. We had made carvings on it every time we turned a year older. Spoke of the highlights of that year, the good and bad. One half of the tree had carvings from Lisa, and the other side, my carvings. At the tippy top, where there was room for one more person's carvings, there was one little carving I made for Ricky.

I recognized her by her long red hair pulled back in a French braid, her freckled face, and bright green eyes. She wore fancy clothes, her family was wealthy, her father being a blacksmith. "Howdy!" She smiled. "Hey" I answered. "Got your dagger?" Lisa asked and I nodded. Lisa and I took turns with my dagger to kill animals, because her parents didn't want her to mess with knives. Or swords. Or any weapon period. We walked quietly across the ground, covered in crunchy leaves. We both made barely any sound as we searched for prey to feed my family. Her family was well fed. Suddenly, we heard a rustling behind us and I held back my dagger, ready to throw. A girl with brown hair braided back messily and a boy came up to us. They were our grade, I recognized them from school. It was Katniss and Gale. They were best friends. Gale was holding rope and Katniss a bow and a container of arrows. Katniss was in the position of shooting with her bow as I was ready to throw with my dagger. "Hi, Katniss." I smiled, and Lisa and I sped away from them to another part of the woods. Katniss and Gale did the same. We didn't know each other well enough to have a conversation.

We headed down to the lake near the middle of the forest, and we took turns trying to stab fish in the small area at the end with a slow current. We ended up catching 20 fish by dark, loads of food to help my family. I grabbed sticks along the way so I could make a fire to cook them on, and headed home, leaving Lisa standing there smiling. I always left her. It was part of the routine we had. I rushed into my small house with one room with a small fireplace in the right corner. I removed the burnt ashes from last fire, and created a fire. "Look what I found in the Hob. A dress!" Johnson smiled, holding up a bright orange, slim dress, that just by looking at it, was exactly my size. I gasped and awed at it. Then I realized what it was for. The reaping.

At the reaping, someone was chosen to participate in the annual Hunger Games.

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