You can't catch me now. (Cato)

A Storm is brewing.

You never thought you'd be on that stage. Stood next to a boy four years younger, and a woman dressed fancily from the Captitol, cheering you on as the screens focussed on your horrified faces.

You were eighteen. It was your last year and you had hoped, and prayed for it to be an easy final time going to the reaping.

It didn't work.

You were relieved it was going to be the final time you'd fear death, you'd fear the pain of your blood being taken to make sure you were you by the Capitol.

You'd kissed your mother goodbye with a relieved smile too. Happy, and carefree. Despite her fear, she seemed just as calm as you. She knew, whilst your chances were just as high as anyone else's..

if you weren't picked?

You'd never be at risk again.

In district four, volunteers did happen, occasionally. It was nothing like district one or two, with people clawing for the chance to show their district what they were capable of.

You'd seen many be taken, some strong, some weak. The best survivor your district had seen from the games? Was Finnick Odair and Mags Flanigan.

Both of which were extremely underestimated, and yet, pulled through in the games. Becoming immediate favourites with the Capitol citizens.

After that pain of your blood being taken then firmly demanded to head inside, and the video began to play on the projected screen, Snows voice booming into the ears of the children stood, awaiting to discover if they had died.

You could then feel the nerves. You'd always feel twelve again after President Snows unnerving voice would echo into your ears. Telling you how great being in the games truly was.

"I love that video." The lady called out after the video, her large smile stunning you. How could anyone like it? But then, if you were paid a lot to, you would like it too.

She was always dressed in the latest fashion when she came. Always matching the themes of district four. Blues and silvers were the most frequently adorned colour by her. Sometimes a net or a trident pattern thrown in. Her nail shape reminded you of conch shells, always blue with a pearly look to them.

"Now, it's time to find our courageous young man and woman, who will do district four the honours of representing them in the seventy fourth hunger games." Her voice echoed in your ears.

She smiled widely again, slightly faulting at the lack of excitement from the fallen expressions of the children in the audience.

Without much of another word, her figure move towards the glass bowl the rim made of gold on the left.

the girls.

"Ladies first I suppose." She'd always say, with a lack of care reaching in with long blue nails, her fingers fumbling around to grab the paper.

after a long silent pause as she opened it, reading the name she began to speak.

"Y/n L/n!"

No.
No
No
no.

This wasn't supposed to be it. This wasn't supposed to happen. You squeeze your eyes tightly shut as you stand tensed up your shoulders raised.

You were supposed to go home, feeling pity for who was chosen. Not go on that stage, feeling fear for your death.

You could feel the eyes of everyone on you as began to walk from the crowd. Maybe this year someone would volunteer. Maybe this year someone would take your place.

You moved up the steps quicker, if you took your time? You knew you'd pass out. Or you'd cry. You refused to do that. Not here. Especially not now.

A hand pressed to your back, firmly shoving you upwards onto the stage, you turned to look at the figure.