Before you (hopefully start reading, there are a few things I'd like to say; I'm a seventeen year- old girl from the Netherlands (so eventhough I try very hard to take them out, there will probably still be a few errors here and there, sorry in advance)  I might change a lot if I turn out to be dissatisfied with the way my story is coming along.

I'm a huge Hunger games fan, and I've therefore decided to try and write a fanfiction about it. But instead of making my characters participate in the games, and make them live in one of the districts, I've chosen to write through a teenage Capitol girl's POV. I'm really bad at writing this things, so I'm going to stop.

If by some kind of miracle you're now interested in reading my story, thank you for giving it a chance and I hope you'll enjoy reading it.

I've only written very little, but I hope to update soon

I would really appriciate your feedback and tips, so please let me know what I can approve

(because there's a lot to approve)  :)

Love, Charlotte

I try to get in some kind of candy pink dress which is supposed to be the new fashion trend, but just like the green tutu´s from last year and the bright blue wigs from the year before, I hate it, just like I hate everything else coming from the capitol, or should I say coming from the poor districts. No amount of delicious food and so called ´beautiful’ dresses can make me change my mind about the Capitol. I know I should feel grateful for what I have, at least that´s what my mom tells me every day, but I can´t seem to appreciate all I have, because every bite I take reminds me of the people from district 11, who have to work until they drop dead for it. Because every dress I wear makes me think about the people from district 8.  I don´t know very much about the lives of the people in the districts, the Capitol makes sure we´re all kept in the dark, but seeing the games, and seeing how underfed and unhealthy they all look, is enough for me to be able to guess what´s going on there. And the games itself, which we are supposed to find amusing, make me detest the Capitol even more. And all those stupid, naïve people make me want to gag. How can they enjoy the games? Are they that cruel? Or are the just glad that they’re not the ones who have to send their children or loved ones to a certain death, or participate themselves? Whatever the reason, I hate them for it. I hate how they get all cheery and excited by seeing all the bloodshed.

I give up my weak attempts at getting into the dress and let myself fall on my huge bed. I enjoy the peace and quiet for a little while, but in no time I hear my mother’s annoying high pitched voice asking me in that stupid capitol accent, what is taking me so long. I open my mouth to yell a reply, but I already hear her footsteps walking up the stairs so I stay quiet.

‘Hannelore Wellwood, we don’t have time to relax. We need to get to the station in time; we don’t want to miss it!!!So get up and let’s get going’ she says while entering my room. By we she means herself, because I couldn’t care less if I’d miss it. Today is the day all the tributes arrive. The whole city is going crazy with excitement every time. Everyone is probably already placing bets and choosing their favorite tributes.

‘You’d have to help me get into this thing first…….. or not. You can always just leave me here’ I add hopefully.

‘Don’t be silly girl. I’m not letting you miss this for the world! So get up and I’ll help you.’

I moan in protest and get up slowly. Mom walks towards me and starts helping me get into the dress. She roughly pulls the dress over my hips and zips up. The dress isn’t particularly comfortable, and I’m sure I will look  stupid in it, but mom insisted me to wear it, so I had no other choice than to wear it, unless if I’d wanted my mom to be complaining about ‘how I lack style’ all day, which I didn’t want of course.

When I’m dressed mom practically runs to my bathroom, as fast as her absurd high, and of course candy pink, stilettos allow. I hear a couple of drawers open and soon after my mom walks into my room again, carrying lots of make-up. She immediately gets started on my face, she uses some kind of white powder to make my skin smooth and because people seem to like looking like a ghost.  She also puts pink eye shadow on and applies pink lipstick and puts my hair in a ponytail. It usually takes hours to get the perfect ‘Capitol’ look, but since we’re already running late, mom is finished after only a couple of minutes. She looks at me intently and clicks her tongue. ‘Well I guess it’ll have to do. Grab your shoes and let’s go. Hurry up!!’

I do as she says and follow her to the hall; there I put on my shoes as quickly as possible, having difficulties with the stupid straps, and get in my pink fur coat once I’ve succeeded putting on my shoes. Mom has already opened the door and is waiting on me impatiently, annoyingly tapping her shoes. I take a deep breath and follow her outside.