Nobody ever won the Hunger Games.— that was a fact.

Years of the games— of two tributes from each of the twelve districts, entering an arena and fighting for their lives— and yet even though there were victors, there were never true winners.

The sick thing about the whole situation was that The Capitol found pleasure in watching those below them suffer. The people mocked as the tributes were defenceless against the Capitol’s tricks, and they found themselves thoroughly enjoying watching the districts slowly grow smaller and smaller, making them grow larger and larger.

—

It was the 50th annual Games, and as usual, Effie Trinket had travelled her way through the districts, ruining families and destroying the lives of innocent tributes that would now be held at the hands of the same, endless process of the Games— however she always felt nothing. Nothing at all.

She reached District 12, and there she stood on the rickety, wooden stage, smiling brightly and reaching her hand into the bowl of names.

Effie: “and the male tribute representing District Twelve in the 50th Annual Games, is—“

a tense silence.

Effie: “— Haymitch Abernathy!!”

Some people cheered, while others screamed and cried and cursed the Capitol for being so cruel. Haymitch was one of the eldest of the many children of District 12, his 18th birthday just around the corner.

As he disappeared into the trailer of the train, his things that wound be necessary were retrieved by Capitol Guards.

— IN THE CAPITOL.

The area was a lot bigger than he could’ve ever imagined— and this was just the training arena. Nothing anywhere close to the actual arena once the games came along.

There were people everywhere. Each district, two members, all practicing a range of skills that would be vital if they wanted to even stand a chance in something as brutal as the games.

And then his eyes locked onto you.