Today was the day the 12 districts would pick one boy and one girl.

My name is Vianna Dontae. I am 16 years old, and I'm in District 3, where technology thrives. I surrounded myself with machines, always inhaling the faint scent of metal.

Every year, the reaping took its toll, but this time I was old enough to get chosen. The square was filled with the somber faces of the district members. I stood behind my mom, holding my brother's hand, my heart racing to the sound of the mayor's voice; it felt like it echoed through the crowd. Finally, it was time for a girl to be chosen. When he announced it, the world went silent. I was chosen. My heart shattered into pieces as I let go of my brother's hand, walking to the stage. I vowed to fight with everything I have.

The mayor continued speaking, but his words turned into a blur. All I could think about was what lay ahead. I had heard the stories of the arena, the challenges, and the fight for survival. I knew I had to use my skills with technology to my advantage. My mind raced with ideas—how could I create tools or traps to help me navigate this deadly game?

As the ceremony concluded, I felt a surge of determination. I wouldn't just be a pawn in this cruel game. I would fight with every ounce of strength I had, not just for myself, but for my family and my district.

The next few days would be crucial. I needed to prepare, to train, and to gather everything I could to survive. I wouldn't let fear dictate my actions; instead, I would channel that fear into a fierce resolve. The fight for my life was just beginning, and I was ready to face whatever challenges came my way.

With each passing day, I immersed myself in my training. I spent hours in the workshop, tinkering with scraps of metal and old gadgets, piecing together makeshift tools that could give me an edge in the arena. I envisioned traps that could ensnare my opponents and gadgets that could provide me with crucial information about my surroundings.

I also sought out the other tributes from District 3, forming unlikely alliances. We shared our skills and knowledge, teaching each other how to navigate the brutal challenges we would face. Together, we strategized, pooling our resources and ideas. I felt a sense of camaraderie that I hadn’t expected, a bond forged in the face of impending danger.

As the day of the arena approached, I felt a mixture of excitement and fear. I knew the odds were stacked against us, but I refused to give in to despair. With my heart pounding and my mind racing, I reminded myself of my vow to fight. I was not just fighting for survival; I was fighting for hope, for a future where my family would not have to live in fear of the reaping. I would be a force to be reckoned with, and I was determined to make my mark in this unforgiving world.

As I stood there, contemplating what to bring into the arena, my mind raced through all the possibilities. I knew I needed something that could serve multiple purposes, something that would give me an edge. After much thought, I decided on a multi-tool. It felt like the perfect choice—compact yet versatile. With its blades, screwdrivers, and pliers, it could help me craft traps, defend myself, or even make quick repairs if needed.

Holding the multi-tool in my hand, I felt a surge of confidence. This wasn’t just an item; it was a symbol of my resourcefulness and adaptability. I was ready to face whatever challenges lay ahead, knowing I had the tools to fight for my survival. I was no longer just a name in a bowl; I was Vianna Dontae, and I was determined to rewrite my fate.