I was screaming because it's my name that has been read. I am fifteen and now I am being sent to my death.
I don't want to go, I don't want to walk up those steps and show the whole of Panem a face they're just going to forget in a year's time. But I don't want to lose my dignity, I want to be seen as strong, right until the very end. Not in a literal way though, I just want people to remember me, for however briefly, as a determined person, who won't give up without a fight.
So I make my way through the crowd of district 7 and ascend the steps which symbolise my death.
I don't listen to the other name, I just stare at the trees in the background. Only when I feel a hand on my shoulder, tugging me towards a silver train, do I tear my eyes away from the trees.
I am told it takes one and a half days to get to the Capitol, where my grave awaits me.
Everyone else, including my own father and sisters, thinks that the districts will refuse to fight in the arena prepared for us. I know better.
No matter what, no one wants to die and the victor of the Hunger Games will receive prize money, along with food packages for their district.
That is why when I said goodbye to my family, it felt like I was on my deathbed. That is why I am going into the games prepared for what will definitely come. My death.