Families have wept, escorts have laughed, and families rejoice that their children have been spared another year; and now we sit in luxurious rooms, holding each other, crying alone, and eating the feast prepared for us by Avoxes. But none of us could be more miserable, even those who volunteered for this. Only one can win, and what better way to die than on national television with everyone watching.

We all reflect on our decisions; what we're getting ourselves into. Who we're leaving behind. What will happen to them after we die.

The district 7's clutch each other in a tight embrace; the girl crying softly. The shy District 9 stares out the window blankly while her partner mutters to himself, arms crossed. A few cowardly faces stare at the armless District 4, her partner tries to keep their eyes on him rather than her. Both District 5's sit alone at the back, one striking fear into everyone's hearts as he stares them down while his partner sits cross legged on her chair, bored as ever with the whole scenario.

As we all lay our heads down for the night, most no doubt welcomed by waking nightmares, we hear the rhythm of the train heading closer to the Capitol and to certain death. Although this journey may be the last for some, we are grateful for what little time we had on this earth. Although some curse it for its cruelty, we whisper our final goodbyes to loved ones who won't hear.

To death we go, the Hunger Games to win. Good luck to all, and may the odds be in your favor.

Sincerely, the President.