And if I only could, I’d make a deal with god and I’d get him to swap our places…

Surviving one Hunger Games was enough.

Being called back for another, that was the tipping point.

Snow, the goddamn president had decided for this quarter quell, past victors were to play. How fun, for the Capitol. You had played their game perfectly, you had won, you had been a Capitol darling. Everyone loved you, and just as you had been left alone, you were dragged back in.

You wanted to burn that man alive. But you knew you had to wait. After all, when winter passes, and the spring comes, snow always melts.

No one ever left the game. As soon as your name was reaped the first time around, they dragged you around on the Victor train, all for the sake of entertainment. No one ever got off the “victory” train.

And now, here you were, standing on a podium, waiting for the timer to count you down. You scanned the environment frantically. A jungle. And a huge lake, and at the very centre sat the Cornucopia. You needed to get there, get to your weapons of choice.

On your right, many metres away, was Finnick Odair. Your only ally. You were both from District 4, and he had been your mentor during your games. He exchanged a look with you, before glancing down at the water.

You both were from the fishing district, for gods sake. You had the advantage.

That realization certainly brightened your gloominess slightly.

“Let the 75th Hunger Games begin. May the odds be ever in your favour.”

“10… 9…. 8… 7… 5…”

The countdown was simultaneously pain staking and nerve wracking. All you could do was get ready to jump. Finnick, as depressingly calm as ever, knelt down, preparing to dive in.

“4… 3… 2… 1.”