I snapped back into reality as I heard Nako exclaim. “And as usual, Ladies First!” 

    I gulped, feeling an odd kind of worry in my chest. I fidgeted my finger onto the ends of my dress' sleeves. I was too nervous to even think properly. My mind was quaking, unable to process whatever Nako was going to say. Slowly, I see her hand dive into the pool of names. I panted. 

    Carefully opening the white sheet of paper, Nako smiled. “The female tribute from District 7,” she started, voice was in her Capitol accent. In swift motion, the name she announced made my heart drop. 

    “Jang Wonyoung.” I couldn't believe it. I refuse to. All of this. How could I be this year's female tribute? What have I done wrong to receive this fate? Will I even survive? Will I even have the chance to go back to my home? Will I see the morning sun I always see around again? Will I be able to see Yuri one last time? I knew the answer. And there I realized I had to accept my fate. I was going to die. In the Arena. In a gruesome way. In the Capitol's hands. 

    I slowly walked down the aisle, making my way to the stage. To my death. From my peripheral view, I could see Yeri covering , in utter shock. She must've been scared by now. She knew me. I knew her. And now, her dear classmate that she really never knew by heart was going to perish by a brutal death. Just like her brother's. 

    Peacekeepers then assembled themselves around me, trying to make sure I won't make such a scene, and escape successfully. I glanced around. All of them seemed shocked. Some, hopeless. Some, sympathy. I don't get it. Why would you sympathise with someone you barely know? I get where Yeri's point of view is. She knew me even though our relationship with each other wasn't that deep. I don't like such gatherings and socialisations. I'm too idle to talk to other beings. I prefer being alone. My sister's an exception, though. 

    At some point, we were in the middle of the aisle. An audible sigh escaped my slightly parted lips, thinking that this is it. This is the whole coverage of my life. To die. But just as I thought everything was over, I heard a voice. 

    “You can't take her! Please!” I instantly turned my back and saw my sister on her knees, in front of a peacekeeper, begging him to pick someone else rather than me. Why? Why must she do this? Does she want both of us dead? I knew she couldn't volunteer. I asked her not to. That if ever I'll be the chosen tribute, she'll fight her hardest not to volunteer in exchange for my place. But look what's happening now. 

    I tried to move closer to her, but the peacekeepers around me were  grasping my arm in a painful manner, probably leaving a bruise later. Provoking me to run to my poor sister. I want to go to her. To assure her I'll be alright. To tell her I'll try my hardest to win. To tell her I'll get home. To survive. To see the warm sun in our district once more. To be with her again. 

    “Please! She's too young to be in the arena. She'll get killed. Get her back. She doesn't deserve this,” Yuri whimpered. I observed the details on the peacekeeper's face and I reckoned he was being annoyed and irritated already. No. It can't. Not again. “Choose someone else ple—”  

    My eyes widened, picking up the sound of shots being fired. Not one, not two. But, seven. Wet tears started welling up in my eyes. They became somehow glassy. It happened. Again. History had repeated itself. I was too surprised to even react and say a word. The last thing I feel is myself collapsing onto the ground, light fading until it is completely pitch black.