Sometimes, I feel like a spectator to my own life.

It is as if someone has pushed my being out of my body, forcing me to the ground. I rise up, now a phantom observing my moves and actions from the sideline in the game of life. The creature that engulfs my body is a horrible demon, like a combination of all my inner insecurities and worst thoughts pushed together.

The demon acts in my place. Every move she takes puts me on a losing streak. I fall three steps behind, constantly trying to take control of my turn once more. But the demon has no plans on letting me regain control. Her moves are in stealth, as she is a wickedly evil yet devilishly smart being. I find myself only being able to push her out of the way when she draws the dreaded 'go to jail card.' Although, it is more specifically go to solitude.

I hate that place, even though it appears to just be a normal bedroom, except that fact that it is missing windows, and the door locks from the exterior. It is lonely in there, for I have no contact with the outside world. I'm trapped to face the demon inside of me.

"Jackie?" My voice strains to come out. It is my fifth week in isolation, the lack of human interaction finally getting to me. Jackie was present for the first two weeks, but she released her grip on my soul out of pure boredom. When I call her, I feel a darkness rushing through my veins, straight into the center of my head. It causes a rush of pain to surge through my body. This torture is nowhere near to the pain when she envelops my soul.

"What do you want, twerp." Her voice retorts back, the same sound as mine. To any bystander, it might seem like I'm a crazy, demented child, talking to the voices inside her head. But to those who know me, they have a grasp how much worse it truly is.

"The reaping." Tears begin to find their way down my cheeks. The Games has always been a terror in my eyes. If I was reaped with Jackie not being trapped inside me, I would be dead almost instantaneously. One of the many tributes lost in the Bloodbath. But with her, I find a strangely calming sensation running through me.

"No need to be afraid. You have me." Jackie's cackling voice echoes through my thoughts. I flop backward onto my bed, covering my eyes with my petite hands to see the darkness. It helps me imagine her.

"But when I call on you, you never show up," I respond, my nose scrunching up in irritation.

"This is different." The demon points out as if it's something obvious. "The only times you ask for me is when you're being beaten up by the bullies your age. Take em' like a woman! Make them throw up their own medicine!"

"You are an idiot sometimes, you know that, right?" I practically shout back at her, and she begins to violently scream multiple curses back at me. Through my years of practice, I'm able to tune her out.

I am not released from isolation until minutes before the reaping, my father convincing the peacekeepers to keep me locked up in my room for the public safety. In truth, he only wants to savor the possible final moments he sees his daughter mentally sane. Moments before the arrival of the peacekeepers, my father opens my door and instantly wraps his arms around me, tears dripping down his cheeks.

He puts his callused hands on my cheeks, wiping away the tears stuck there. "Valerie. I love you. Never forget that. Jake and Bradley love you, even if they constantly antagonize you." My father pauses, allowing himself to her my giggle. "You'll always be my little girl."

"Daddy, I lo-" My voice is cut off by my own scream, the peacekeepers appearing from thin air behind my, grabbing my wrists and dragging me away. I keep screaming, a constant and shrill voice escaping my throat. It is impossible to make words.

My house is fairly close to the District Three square, which is placed right at the base of the Justice Building. A few heads from the back of the crowd turn at the sound of my screams as the peacekeepers drag me toward the check-in station. They release me from their grasp, blocking the exit. There is only one way to go. Forward, toward the waiting attendant.

"Welcome! May I please see your index figure?" The woman asked, an obviously fake smile plastered onto her lips. I gradually raise my hand, and once the woman is able, she snatches my finger and quickly pricks the tip. My blood falls onto a sheet of paper, marked with my name. It is the final paper in her stack. "Thank you, Valerie! May the odds be ever in your favor!"

The peacekeepers have already exited, assuming that I know if I try to run now, the only thing I face is death. I exit toward the left, entering the area filled with a swarm of hundreds, if not thousands, of girls. Noticing me, they all clear a path for the insane girl. The girl who stabbed her friend. The girl who talks to nothing. I step into the section with the other fourteen-year-olds. No one stands within a five-foot radius of me. I cross my arms, releasing a sigh. One girl from in front of me releases a squeak.

"Now it is time for the reaping!" The District Three escort, Queen Fondue, cheers with an excited flourish to her every word. This year, she wears a sky blue dress. Clouds, birds, and what looks like butterflies are attached to it by springs. As she claps her hands joyfully, the springs jiggle, causing the attachments to bounce up and down. Her hair is cut short, around the length of a bob, and is the color of an eggplant. Her eyes clash with the hair horribly, for they are a beaming turquoise color. "Ladies first, as always."

The only plus-side to being called mentally unstable is the fact I've missed the introduction to the reaping, the same announcements, and speeches that some of the people present have experienced for seven years. Queen practically tiptoes to the oversized glass bowl, filled to the brim with thousands of names. My name is only in there three times, for my dad makes my brothers take our needed tesserae.

Sticking her hand in, the escort picks a slip of paper, holding it up so the whole of District Three can observe it. Queen makes her way back toward the microphone stand, undoing the flaps that keep the name sealed. She only looks it over once before her eyes scan the group of girls present in front of her, wondering which will be her next victim.

"Valerie Elona!"

Instantly, the girls around part like Moses and the Red Sea to reveal me. Deep in my thoughts, Jackie is squealing in delight, but I shake her away. My chest rises and falls with each shaking breath as I take a step forward. Each step gradually begins to gain speed, everything around me getting blurrier and blurrier as I do. The tears that strain my vision begin to fall down my cheeks rapidly, causing me to sniffle.

"This way, love." Queen Fondue chimes, extending a hand for me to take. I hesitate, Jackie suddenly appearing in my thoughts.

"Take her hand. They'll love you. Make them love you. Get sponsors. Survive." The demon screams on repeat in my thoughts, and my breaths begin to come more rapidly as I take her hand. A grin appears on her lips. I'm probably the first in years who hasn't rejected her offer. She leads me to the microphone and she unhooks it, shoving it in front of my face.

"Are you excited for the Hunger Games, Val?" The escort questions and I gulp instantly, free hand shaking with fright. Jackie suddenly begins to fight me, trying to control my body. My fright seems to deter her efforts, but nevertheless, she continues to battle with me.

"Say yes!" She screeched. If she was real, I could imagine that she would be pulling her hair out in exasperation.

"Yes." My voice comes out quiet, and a few in the crowd begin to mumble, saying that I'll just go psycho and I'll definitely win. The tears continue to fall from my face.

I can only imagine what the Capitol sees right now. They have no idea about my predicament, Jackie. All there probably just see me as one who will die right away in the first minute. They only see a girl, fourteen years of age, standing in a button-down gray blouse, her blonde hair wildly floating around her head. The skirt she wears reaches her knees, and it is a vibrant white color, or it was, now stained with dust from the peacekeeper's antics. Charcoal colored frames rest on the bridge of her nose, and her petite body shakes with each sob she breathes in.

Queen continues on with the reaping, calling out a boy whose name I don't recognize. I don't pay attention, however, for I am too lost in my own woes and worries. She forces us to shake hands and I don't even glance up. All I do is extend my hand, allowing him to grab it and do the work for me. Almost a heartbeat later, peacekeepers are dragging us into the Justice Building. The other boy is taken a different direction than me.

"Where are we going?" I ask my peacekeeper, a look of pure fear spreading across my face like wild-fire.

"You're going to the train right away, for you are in an unstable condition." He responds back, voice unwavering. Although, it almost sounds bored.

"What about my time to meet my family?" My face instantly drops, more tears rushing down my cheeks as I twist my head around, trying to get a glance of my father.

"You don't get it!" My captor replies, obviously annoyed by my repetitive questions.

"Dad!" I begin to scream, writhing in his arms. Jackie screams in my head as I do so, telling me to leave the worthless chump alone. For the first time, I'm able to find my voice in my head and I screech at her. I feel her flinch as it sends a sensation through me, the demon slithering back to her resting place.

As I'm dragged onto the train, my head twists and turns, trying to find my father in the swarm of reporters. A hand, a very familiar one, raises above the rest.

"Dad!" I cry out in pure agony, his head popping out soon after he hears my voice. His face is scrunched together in a knot as he tries to push through reporters to get to me. They seem to have formed a wall, so he gives up, his attempts futile.

"Valerie! Never forget! I-" His voice is cut off as the peacekeeper slams the door shut.

I may never hear my father again.