Uncertainty. That is all I can feel as I ride up this tube, into what is sure to be my grave yard. Ever since the Reaping, all I can remember is that I couldn't let myself become a piece in their games. I was unique, no one could take that away from me... My name is Mark Riley. I am seventeen years old... I live in Panem... I'm in the 69th annual Hunger Games... The male tribute from District 8... In a land that was once called "The Midwest". All I know now is that I must fight. Not for myself, but that kid from 12. The thirteen year old, the youngest of all the tributes. The rest of us range from fifteen or older. One was even eighteen. The kid didn't deserve to die. We didn't either, but the Capitol is corrupt, and twenty-three of us must die. There's no avoiding this fact, death is nearly inevitable. You need more than luck and skill to win. Skill I had, and I was well liked for my goals and beliefs. But my luck could never be trusted. A nine was my score... Very good for one who did not live 1, 2, or 4. Still, I was going to die. I had to if I was to accomplish my goal. White... That is all I can see for a moment. I breathe in... taking in what could be my last few minutes on Earth. The bloodbath was where all the relentless killers went, taking their tools of destruction. The white fades... And I can see the arena. A jungle, the humidity is unbearable, and I can already hear the sounds of wildlife. If we were lucky, the wildlife would be natural, like bears, lions, etc. Unfortunately, the Capitol more likely had something much darker in mind for us.

"30 Seconds." I hear from nowhere. It is the announcer, what's his name. I never bothered to learn his name, never cared. And I never will. Around me are my fellow twenty-three tributes, all preparing for the next few weeks ahead of them. I was ready. I had accepted my inevitable death. I would die to let the youngest of us go home. If the Capitol did not agree with what I did, then they can go to hell. I am no patriot. I do not love my country, it is founded on hatred, and violence. I always wished I could have seen what it was like before, the great nation known as America. I knew very little of it, but I knew that it believed in equality, liberty, life. If only...

"10... 9..." I prepare myself, getting ready to launch off of the pad. The cornucopia lay in front of me, with weapons, supplies, and more. Of course, all I wanted was to get my journal started. The journal that I had been keeping ever since the Reaping. The one thing that I was allowed to keep from home was a journal. Still, when the gong sounded, I shot off, getting what I could carry. I quickly scooped up a backpack, which could certainly come in handy. Everyone ignored a tarp on the outer edge, but I did not. Before I could grab a bag full of knives, I was attacked, the girl from district 5. I did not wish to fight her, but I needed a weapon. She struck at me with her fist, but I quickly moved away. She attempted to strike again, but by now, I had the knives. I took one from the bag and held it out, stabbing her in her abdomen. Her violet eyes stared at me with sadness, and hatred. Anger, and contempt. As she collapsed, I kneeled down, placed a hand on her head, and said;

"Forgive me." With that, I thrust the knife through her neck, ending her suffering. Looking up, I see the male tribute from 2 charging at me, a sword in hand. I quickly sling my backpack over my shoulder and take off. I can hear him roar, and he charges after me. I do not slow down, however, I do not even look behind me. For I hear the cry of another, a male. He is going to intervene, not to save me, but to attempt to kill a career. I hear the clanging of metal, and quickly vanish into the trees. With haste, I twist, and swerve, trying to make my path complicated, and impossible to follow. After about ten minutes of this, I stop, and look behind me. No one is there. I have escaped the Cornucopia. I can only hope the boy from 12 shared my fate. Looking forward, I observe the massive jungle that lay ahead of me, where the humidity has grown noticeably worse, and I can already hear buzzing in my ear from insects. I smile. I've always loved camping.