The rules are simple and cruel. Once chosen, there is no turning back. Haymitch watches his mother clutch Sid tightly. His brother doesn’t look away, lips pressed together, as if trying to memorize his face before he disappears forever.

They are taken to the Justice Building. There, they are given a few minutes to say goodbye. His mother doesn’t cry, but her eyes are heavy with the exhaustion of someone who has already lost too much.

—Don’t let them see you weak —she whispers—. Find a way to survive.

Sid says nothing, only presses something into his hand: a small piece of fabric embroidered with his initial.

—So you won’t forget us —he murmurs.

But forgetting is not the problem. The problem is what comes next.

The Peacekeepers separate him from his family and take him straight to the Capitol train. The doors seal shut with a metallic hiss. And just like that, Haymitch is no longer a boy from District 12. He is a tribute.

On the train, the opulence suffocates him. Food overflows on the tables; hot water runs endlessly in the bathroom. Effie won’t stop talking about manners and how they must make a good impression. But Haymitch isn’t listening.