I stand there, desperately trying to control the shaking in my hands. Taking deep steadying breaths, I try to picture myself far away. Somewhere safe and beautiful and somewhere that none of the terror we are being forced to endure exists. My whole body is shivering uncontrollably and the little hairs on my arms stand on end, causing my skin to tingle in a way I don't like. It is extremely difficult to imagine myself elsewhere when the wind is pulling my hair so tightly and fiercely burning my face with its sinister chill.

I can feel my heart beating hard in my chest and hear the irregular pounding of the blood that is rushing through my ears, trying to keep my brain working. I am going to faint, I know I am, but there is nothing I can do about it. If I fall will anyone catch me? No, I don't think so. They are all probably thinking the same thing as me and if I collapsed on them then I am sure it would turn the whole district into a game of human dominoes.

Voices break the tense and unbearable silence but I don't hear a word they say. They echo loudly across the District but I don't care. All I hear is my heart and the heavy breathing of the other frightened children around me. I want to risk a glance at the stage but I can't, in a way that would be condoning what is happening. If I look interested, look as if I want to watch, then I am supporting this... torture.

I hear whispers ripple through the crowds of gamblers and parents as Effie Trinket strides across the stage, past the drunk Haymitch, towards the place where the possible tribute's names are stored. She seems happy and excited, bouncing around with her bright pink hair and her flamboyant clothes, everything about her appearance screams rich and 'better than you' and it disgusts me and I drop my gaze. All of it flaunts just how much the Capitol has and how very little we have. The other Districts, and this pitiful District; number 12.

Although everyone else is bickering and whispering, the rows of children, including myself, are deadly silent. We do not move, we do not speak. It is almost as if being frozen will lessen the chances of your name being pulled out and you won't be forced to fight to the death in an arena created for pain and torture. Almost.

The cameras are all focused on Effie and I am sure no one is breathing. I try to but my lungs fail me. The whole of Panem is watching, waiting, to see which two children will be picked and snatched away cruelly from their homes. Awaiting their reactions, sizing up the competition, looking for people to bet on and watching the relative's reactions. Relative's reactions... I think of my mother, standing there with Prim probably wishing my father was there to hold her hand, but I do not risk even a brief glance. We are so poor but we have done everything we can to protect our family and keep it together, my younger brother and I. Our mother and father refused to have their children sign up for the Tesserae but in the end, there was no choice because when he died there was no money for food. We couldn't cope.

I am sixteen and my name has been entered the most. It's in there twenty three times. My younger sister, Prim, is not yet old enough but my brother is. Oliver has nine entries; he is just fourteen.

The slip of paper is unfolded slowly by tinted pink fingers and long yellow nails. This repulses me but I am not thinking of this, I can only think of my family and my friends and the dull ache in my chest. What if it's someone I know? What if it's a young child, just a 12 year old that doesn't stand a chance? What if it is my brother? My heart speeds up so fast I feel as if it will burst and all of a sudden I want to run, to scream for everyone else to run too so that no one has to hear their name called, and no one has to die, but I know there's no point. No where to run and no where to hide, not in Panem where the Capitol monitors your every move like a hawk watches its prey.

Two words are shouted but I do not hear them. I am oblivious to anything, lost in my thoughts but suddenly I can feel thousands of eyes boring into me. What? I think as I look up. Why are they staring?

And then I realise. The name is called again and liquid ice is poured into my bloodstream. Any air that was in my lungs is gone, gone for good, and my heart has just exploded. Nothing could prepare me for this, no feeling has ever come close.

Effie Trinket smiles brightly as her eyes lock with mine and she repeats her words in a sweet and high pitched voice.

"I said, our tribute for District 12 is Katniss Everdeen!"