User blog comment:BubblestheLlama/Five Tasks, Six Users season two/@comment-4773078-20120203034123/@comment-4773078-20120203034135

Her POV of the pre-games events:

REAPING: I walked into my little surrounded box, as every single person stepped away from me. I sighed. How come nobody likes me? Just because I live on the streets doesn’t mean they should treat me like trash. Suddenly, the escort is onstage, talking, blahblahblahblahblah. Then she sticks her hand into the glass jar, I’m praying that I wouldn’t have to die like all my siblings, and the name is called.

“SARAH COLE!”

I gasped. It couldn’t be true. I have to go to the hunger games. Was it rigged? How could every single member of my family get reaped? How is that even fair? I walk upstage, crying, and I hear maniacal laughter coming from the audience. At least I don’t have to be with this un-welcoming and filthy district anymore…..

“TERRANCE SAGRADA!”

I looked up. The boy tribute was coming upstage. He wrinkled his nose at me, and stepped as far away as he could. When we were sent to the Justice Building, he seemed really glad.

I sighed. It’s not like I have anybody to say goodbye to. Everyone I love has been killed by the capitol. Nobody’s going to come to say goodbye to me. I waited and waited. When I thought that the hour must almost be up, someone came in. The baker. He visits all the tributes each year, to give them little bakery gifts. He handed me a chocolate croissant, wrapped in a paper bag. I smiled. At least somebody cares about me. After he hands it to me, he leaves without a word. Now I can eat! OMNOMNOMNOMNOM

Training Room: I never go to the training room. I spend the entire day in my room, crying, hating the entire world. I can’t see any point in trying anymore. Going into the hunger games just means my death, and even if I did survive, I wouldn’t want to go back to my district. It’s much too painful.

The day has come to show the gamemakers what I could do. I sit down on the floor mat, and I don’t do anything. I’m just going to wait for them to get tired of me and let me go. Who cares about the 0 I would get. Nobody cares about me. Suddenly, I just start crying. I can’t hold it in. The world’s such a painful place to live in, and I just can’t stand it anymore.

Finally, the head gamemaker told me that I could go.

That night, I looked up at the training scores. I got a 2. That’s better than I thought. It wasn’t a 0, but that won’t land me any sponsors……..

Interview:

I sit down. Ceaser Flickerman sits down beside me. “So, Sarah, how did you feel about the reaping?”

I swallowed hard. It was everything I could do to not just cry and break out there on the stage. I said in a very strained voice:

“I think my district was happy. That I was gone. That I would die.”

Ceaser said something about how I had to be more positive, and that no one in the audience should count me out, because there was still a possibility that I could be victor. Yea, right. Even if I was, it wouldn’t get me any respect from my district.

I answered with short “yes” or “no” answers for the rest of the interviews. No point in talking anyways. No one’s going to sponsor me.