Paranoia grips me by the shoulder and tells me that everything is a danger as I wake from my light slumber. The cannon shots repeat in my mind, telling me the next boom could be my short funeral, engulfing my every fiber with a single shot. Pushing myself through labored breaths and sharp stabbing pains have kept me alive throughout this cannon concert known as the Hunger Games. Darting glances, sweating palms, shaking knees, and ringing ears make me the rabid distorted person I am now; weeks of scurrying away like a hunted animal mixed with the killings I have seen and committed have altered me to become a person I despise. District Two would love to throw me an extravagant party recognizing my discrete silent kills. The blood hungry crowd that will gather in my honor welcomes me as I stand up from behind the vines. It’s time to meet their savage cheers with a glued on smile that threatens to fall off and reveal the shattered being underneath. It’s time to become the hunter and not the hunted. It’s time to win.

Winning would bring me back to the life I could’ve continued on in had it not been for the Games. Six sudden booms tell me that I am that much closer to Victor’s Village. I stare at the sky expectantly. Please let me out of this scorching prison; please let the sad, weary, wrinkled eyes of my mother turn glad when she sees me once again. Hope surges inside me; a bright flicker of light burns inside of me at the idea of change. Changing this evil that has sunk into me through experiences that will haunt me forever.  Let me win and I might just fit the empty puzzle pieces of my life back together, hopefully changing this world with a restored portrait of humanity that goodness will paint, instead of Gamemakers. After hearing my voice, District Two will stop cheering for the bloodlust of taking someone else’s life and voice. My mother will finally sleep through dark nights without having to scream to the impassive stars for consolation. The clear sky obscured by dangling leaves listens to my prayer of stopping the anger-driven wins of life. The open, empty air seems to assure me a new home in Victor’s Village. I will pick up the pieces of my life that the Capitol has eagerly smashed to bits. Give me the chance to put back the pieces. Silence meets me, giving me no such chance.