Casca Highbottom struggles to come to terms with the day's events.

 

Log: 17-8-3017

 

This cannot be happening.

One moment, I'm hiding in a bomb shelter, waiting for news of potential rebel attacks. The next, I'm standing before the elites of the Capitol as Dr. Gaul proposes a truly barbaric event and introduces me as its creator.

Gaul, depraved monster that she is, was grinning ear to ear as she described the annual slaughter of innocent children from the Districts. With her icy fingers wrapped around my shoulders, all I could do was pray the elites wouldn't accept this outlandish, wicked proposal.

Alas, my prayers went unanswered.

Crassus…you backstabbing, opportunistic snake. To think that I once called you a friend, that I downed shot after shot at your request, that I listened to you when you said my inhuman idea for the project was just a joke between us…

I swear, I will get back at you for this.

All I can hope for now is that the Hunger Games will die out. Surely such a horrific tradition could never be sustained in the long run.

Then again, I'm certain Gaul will find a way to keep it alive. She loves anything that supports her deluded, sick worldview.

Casca Highbottom