The 4th Quarter Quell

It will have a special twist to it because of it being a quarter quell.

The truth: I. Don’t. Care

For years I have watched with a sense of detachment at the whole process. Why I feel this way? God knows. I am an outsider. Humans confuse me. I tried to understand and feel the way they feel -the pain, joy, love- that comes so naturally to so many. My father once said I am a defect; broken. Something went wrong with me. People whisper about my… condition. Doctors, therapists have labeled me “autistic”. Such a shame to my father. Again, if only I cared. The only time I leave the premise of my father’s house is that one day. Reaping Day. How exciting.

I get prepared and wear the clothes laid out by Glen. “Are you excited, miss?”

She never fails to ask me that every year. Glen is different with me. She’s the only person who knows that every time I flinch from human contact, it’s not because I hate it. It’s because I’m afraid. She’s the only person who knows how to wake me up from my nightmares every night. She’s the only person who knows that I love watching the sunset from my window. She’s the only person who knows…me. Now, she smiles reassuringly at me while I rub the pendant right below my throat. I stand up and walk to the car my father has instructed the driver to escort me in. I take deep breaths and stare out the window.

Trains pass by the well paved roads. The whole city is bursting with colours. Colours that look wrong somehow. Artificial, bright, toneless. Buildings that are magnificent tower into the air while people with vibrant hairs and painted face talk animatedly everywhere. Above, big billboards, advertise the latest fashion: blue leopard coloured skin and bright green eyes. The most luxurious district right after the Capitol houses the most victors in the hunger games. We pass the Victor Village on our way to the justice building where the reaping will take place.

***

I reach the justice centre and stand among the 18 year old girls who all have varying emotions from excitement to nervousness plastered on their faces. I stand very still and count the seconds while watching the stage. The mayor walks up to the stage and addresses the crowd. The great honour of being a victor and the need for the games in our structured, effective system is recounted. Every year it’s the same speech. Every year it’s a lie. It’s not an effective system. It’s just been effective in controlling the people for a long time. After exactly 3276 seconds another man - this one blue-haired - walks up to the stage and claps his hands once.

"Welcome everyone to the 100th Hunger Games! It is truly exciting indeed. The time to pick the two brave souls who will have the honour of representing District One."

He goes on further about how important the games are to our community and then bellows, “and now for the reaping!”

"Ladies first," he says after hopping - yes hopping - to the bowl on his left. He does an exaggerated gesture of digging through the bowl and finally with a flourish produces one slip of paper. He walks to the mic stand and clears his throat. His eyes scan the crowd and with a smile, after an agonising 10 seconds reads out the name in a clear voice. There is silence. After that murmurs and whispers.

It’s me.

My name.

Emily Connolly.

I walk up slowly escorted by two peacekeepers and stand beside the blue-haired man who I notice also has startling orange eyes that look unnatural. He beams at me and after that moves on to the second tribute. I stop listening and scan the crowd for my father. He stands and stares at me with expressionless eyes. All I feel is coldness.

*** I stand still inside the room while stroking the pendant again. I wait. After 12 minutes and 7 seconds my father walks in.

"You’ve prepared for this. Do. Not. Disappoint. Me," and with that he walks out.

I won’t.

The submission deadline for the Reaping chapter has come to a close and if you haven't submitted the chapter (or a bio for some) you run the risk of being eliminated! If you need an extension, please tell me! Especially if you have already submitted a bio and still shows interest in the Games! 

If you haven't submitted a bio or the 'reaping' chapter I am sorry to say, but you have been eliminated from the Games. I just can't delay these Games any longer and just need to get things going again. My sincere apologies.

If you believe this is a mistake, message me! Please don't forget I am doing this alone and I am also a person who has a life outside of tumblr (shocking, I know) and so I'm not always on and things slip by.

Also, the tributes Olivia (lookingforansel) and Bran (maraudcrsmap) are both under extensions I have granted them because they asked! If you do not see a chapter that they should have had submitted, but are still a part of the games, that is because they have extensions. If you need an extension (or have decided to drop out), please just drop me a message!

That's all! You guys can begin to submit the next chapter now! 

The hot sun burnt down on the back of my neck, cooking it slowly. The sun was already high in the sky at 9am and i could feel my skin starting to burn. I glance over to Marie, who is working next to me, she sees and gives me a small smile. She only starting working here a few weeks ago and I sort of took her under my wing and have become her friend. I am weeding again. Stupid peacemakers, I hate the lot of them, but I can’t say that, no, I must just work. I am the only provider in my family at the moment and I must work as hard as I can. My twin brother and sister are only 2 and cannot even help around the house yet, and my mum, 8 months pregnant, is so tired all the time that she stays in bed. So I must work. All day everyday. Even when I finish in the fields I must feed Polly and Rick and my mother and clean the house and cook for myself and and and… The list is endless.

But I know I am trying to distract myself. It’s reaping day. At 1pm all 12-18 year olds from my faction will be standing outside the justice building, knowing that 2 of them will not be making it home. It’s inevitable really, district 11 does not win the hunger games.

*bong* The sharp sound of the bell lifts everyones heads as it signals the end of a shift, usually we do not hear this until 9pm but today is different. As the bell goes on to signal 12pm, everyone in the fields picks up their equipment and moves towards the main housing area of our district, and to the justice building. I fall into step with everyone around me and try to not think about what is happening. 

Once at the justice building, I move to stand with the other 14 year old girls. Briefly, I look around at their faces, brown from the hard hours under the sun and in some places scarred. They all look as frightened as I feel. I look down, trying to make myself smaller and smaller, as if this would make my chances less likely of being picked. I knew it wouldn’t make a difference. 

At 1pm exactly Dona Sinket, district 11’s escort, appears brightly on the stage. She smiles warmly at all of us, “Happy Hunger Games” she announces cheerfully, “Welcome, to each and everyone of you brave young souls, I welcome you to this most important and exciting day. The day we pick the lucky two tributes for the 100th annual hunger games, the day of the Reaping”. She pauses, as if expecting us to clap or something, fat chance. She continues, blah blah blah, I don’t really listen to be honest, it’s the same rubbish every year. 

"Finally, the time we have all been waiting for. The reaping" Dona says after what seems like years, "First, the girls" I’m not ready for this again, my heart is hammering in my chest so rapidly I think it might break out. I can feel my pulse in my finger tips under the sweaty skin that is calloused from field work. My mind is screaming at me, don’t let it be me, please dear god don’t let it be me. Her hand is in the names now, so many oh so many. Don’t let it be me. She feels around for a bit, scattering slips here and there. Don’t let it be me. She grabs one and slowly pulls it out. Don’t let it be me. It’s open now, unmoving in the still air. Don’t let it- "Marie Parkingson" -and its not. 

No… no no no no is all I can think…. NO. Not her, she deserves at least a chance at life, only 12 years old, it can’t be her. I should do something. I should, if it means I die then thats okay, I never had much of a life anyway. But your family, a small voice somewhere in my head shouts, what will they do. I bury it down, i can help Marie. “I volunteer” I shout, at least I try to, my voice seems to be lost somewhere deep down inside me, “I volunteer!” This time I’m heard, people part to let me through. I feel like I am in a dream.

I reach the stage and climb the stairs surely, I know that I cannot cry. The rest of the reaping is a blur, the other tribute chosen, Olivia, and then everyone leaves. We are taken inside the justice building to say goodbye to our families.

I do not want to see them really, I do not want to see the pain on their aleady hungry faces that I will not be able to feed. I don’t think I can take that. But they come and I say I will be back, I try to believe it, for the twins, but I know its not true, this is the last time I will see them.

Then Marie is there, she is crying and it takes everything for my not to cry too. She says thank you over and over. And then she leaves, and I am all alone. 

I still feel numb, as if this is not real. I pinch myself, but I know it is, I know this is happening. I am going to die.

I wake up with the sun shining bright and my little brother peering at me with those big eyes of his. 

"Wake up, it’s the big day!" he exclaims.

Groaning, I get up. I barely had enough sleep last night because I was so nervous about today. It’s very unlikely that I will be reaped, but my father always told me to expect the unexpected, and I have to prepare myself. 

As I roll out of bed, I notice my mother has prepared a nice olive green button down shirt for me along with some slacks. I put on the clothes quickly and run down for breakfast. I can smell the fresh bread my mother always prepares every year for the reaping, and my mouth starts to water. 

"Morning, Edmond. Slept in this morning, haven’t you? Quickly finish your breakfast, we have to attend the reaping." she says cheerily. I always wonder how she manages to stay so positive in such a bad time. I gulp down my breakfast in record time, and help my brother into his clothes. My father is already dressed, and we march out the door to the reaping. 

I can already smell the stench of misery, despair, and sadness in the air as we reach the square. Our escort is dressed as glamorous as ever, and I think he has enough sparkles to cover all of District 1. The mayor steps up to the podium and delivers the same old boring speech he reads every year about the Capitol. I swear, sometimes I just want to slice his head off. Then, he hands it off to our escort, Carnivus Tera. In his booming voice, he announces, “Alright, let’s get this show on the road! Of course, ladies first.” 

He marches towards the glass bowl filled with tons of names of children who can possibly die. He dips his hand in and quickly snatches the first slip he can get. He opens the slip, and announces the name loudly, “Emily!”

Everyone’s head turns to look at this frail young girl. You would expect her to be scared, but she has a firm look, head held high, and walks with confidence. She goes up to the stage and gives a smug look.

"Great, we got a tough one here." He laughs hysterically. "Alright, next, it’s time for the boys." 

This is it. This is going to either tell me I’m safe, or send me to a fight to the death. He reaches into the bowl and licks his lips. This time, he takes his time. He grabs a name, and reads in a booming voice, “Edmond.” 

At first, I didn’t register what he said. Then, everyone’s eyes turn to me, and it hits me. I was picked. My heart is pounding. I shouldn’t be scared. I can easily be a part of the Career pack. Yes, I have nothing to fear. I keep my head high and walk my way to the stage as if nothing was wrong. I glance slightly at Emily, and she gives me a nice, friendly smile. I can tell I’m going to like her, but it sucks that I have to kill her.

"Awesome, we have our 2 tributes from District 1!" Carnivus exclaims. I look into the crowd and notice my mother and father holding back tears and my brother trying to reach the stage while my parents hold him back. As I see that sight, that was when I knew I was going to win. I had to win.

My father stands by the door, waiting. But I can sense his nervousness as I pat down the collar of my shirt - or his shirt, if we’re being picky. His fingers, rough and stained black from oil spills, fidget anxiously. He looks ridiculously uncomfortable in the stiff tweed jacket and the ironed pants we found in the wardrobe, and I might’ve laughed at him if I wasn’t so anxious myself. I nodded at him and motioned that I was ready to go. Picking up my hat, I followed him out of the apartment. 

Maybe District 6 was once a pretty place. My mother used to tell my sisters that it was, but I don’t think I’ll ever be able to picture it like that. Pretty. it doesn’t fit. Flowers are pretty. District 6 is not.

The buildings are small cemented grey blocks, only two stories high and crumbling. Further off from these homes - and a relatively safe distance away - is a thick maze of factories, smoking chimneys, rusted garages, train yards, and warehouses. That’s where we all work. But in this part of the district, I live in a residential area filled to the brim with people; the stores and markets are located deeper in, around the district square and by the Victor’s Village.

As we walk, my father grows seemingly more and more agitated with every step, and the ground below us quickly transfers from dry mud and then to gravel, until I’m standing on smooth paved stones crisscrossed with train tracks. The buildings seem to straighten and grow taller and smarter. The smell of burned rubber isn’t that strong here when I take a sniff. I notice the Capitol banners strewn across doorways and over balconies in a cheerless celebration of today’s reaping. I begin to see peacekeepers, too.

I watch as a street urchin timidly approaches one, hand open, begging for food. i think for maybe a moment that the peacekeeper is going to ignore the little ragged thing, but then there’s a flash of white, a small shriek, and the butt of his gun comes down and strikes the boy across the face, hard.

The pavement begins to stain red.

We walk, on and on and on, and to stop once to wait for a line of trains to glide by. At first, I don’t recognize them - they’re not cargo trains, or the passenger type Capitol people like to use. But then with one look at the clear windows, the smooth grey exterior - I don’t even need to look at the district numbers sprayed on their doors to know what they are. Reaping trains.

By the time we get to the town square, the sun is high up in the sky. My father and I easily blend through the mass of people dressed in their reaping best. He exchanges a few greetings and ‘good luck’s’ here and there with familiar faces.

Finally, I dwindle to a stop next to a line of boys my age registering themselves.

I turn to my father. His face is hard now, and you wouldn’t have thought he was pacing the kitchen agitatedly  since six in the morning. Suddenly, he reaches down to pat my collar back into place, which is a bit odd, since he’s never one for appearances. I appreciate it anyway. “Thanks, dad.”

We stand in silence for a moment, neither of us wanting to move away.

"I’ll meet you at the garages…after the reaping," I finally tell him. You’re not going to lose me. Not like with Ella.

And then I’m in the line, and it’s getting shorter. I’m holding out my forearm for my blood to be sampled; I’m pushed into the group of others my age standing in front of a huge black stage. Everyone and everything is buzzing with noise. But it all fades away to quiet when this year’s Capitol representative arrives.

A tall dark man with bright golden tattoos swirling through his hair dramatically stalks out towards the microphone, hips sashaying and a smile on his face which is blindingly bright. I wonder if his teeth are specially illuminated, squinting.

Tossing the end of an extremely long, glimmery scarf over a shoulder, he begins the speech they all say every year, but in an overly excited, bubbly voice for someone who is approximately thirty years old and about to send off two children to their deaths. When he finishes, the gigantic dark screen behind him lights up. It begins to play the same film they show us every year.

I stare at the symbol of the Capitol for a moment, then stare at a clock hanging above the heads of the district mentors. Nearly, nearly.

The film rolls to an end, the Capitol symbol fades to black, and the reaping begins. The representative, whose name turns out to be Axel, struts to one of the bowls filled with slips of paper as though he’s walking down a catwalk. Very slowly and deliberately, Axel picks out a slip and, as though the paper is a very important historic artifact, he unrolls it open.

He opens his mouth. Pauses.

Silence.

I haven’t noticed how loudly my heart is beating until I realize I missed the name. I hear a drumming in my ears instead, and a gasp from the crowd of girls to my right. One of them, a small girl with bright red hair, steps forward. She walks up towards the stage like it’s a death sentence - and then I realize it is.

I’m sweating by the time Axel presents her to the crowd.

I wipe my brow with my cap and stare at the clock again. Axel is already cheerily dipping his hand into the other bowl. It’s so quiet. Why is it so quiet? I couldn’t think. The image of my mother popped into my mind, and then I saw my sister, alive again with rosy cheeks and her blonde curls bouncing and the red Capitol badge and the arena and the wooden box with the white roses -

Axel is clearing his throat. I shake my head. Focus, Tristan.

He unravels the little slip of paper. I notice that he’s wearing glittered nail polish. 

Axel sweeps the crowd before him with shining brown eyes, and a smile to match.

It’s not me, I think at first, when they pass right over me. It’s not me, I’m not going into the arena.

Axel beams.

"Tristan Thode."

The day I dread the most, every year. This year even more so, as my name will be in the bowl 42 times. Usually, my family can afford for me and my older brother, Finn, just to have our names in once or twice. But not this time. 3 months ago my Father fell desperately ill, we spent all of our money on medicine, hoping his condition would improve, but it wasn’t enough. Even Primrose Everdeen couldn’t heal him, and she is the best healer in 12. 3 months later, he passed away.

I miss him.

So much.

Now, we have nothing. With the little money we’ve received from the reaping bowl, we have managed to scavage enough food for 2 meals a day.

Before we have to meet up in the square, my mother sends me to the bakery to buy a loaf of bread. “Morning, Mrs Mellark!” I say walking in to the bakery. “Morning Rachel. Just the usual?” she replies.                        ”Please” I say. She turns behind her and picks up the loaf, wrapping it up in paper and securring it with a sticky label. She passes the bread over the counter ad I give her a squirrel my brother caught yesterday in return.

25 years ago, in the last Quarter Quell, Mrs Mellark lost her only son, Peeta. After becoming a victor alongside his fellow tribute, Katniss Everdeen, Peeta perished in the Quell arena after hitting a force field at the edge of the arena.

                                                   *  *  *

I head back home and put on a lilac dress. My mother does my hair for me in two braids down the back. She kisses me and my brother on the forehead and we head for the square.

Upon arrival, we sign and and find are places in the correct age group. “May the odd’s be ever in your favour, baby Rach!”, my brother shouts at me on the way to his spot. Girls on the left, boys on the right. Since I’m 15, I’m bang in the middle. On the other hand, my brother (as he is 18) is right at the back. The Capitol escort, who I’ve forgotten the name of, steps up to the stage and welcomes us to the 100th reaping. It is at that point I realise; There’s no way I’ll get picked. My name is on 25 sheets of paper out of thousands. There’s no way I’ll get picked. Its going to be okay.

But I was wrong.

The escort sticks his hand in to the bowl and draws out a name from the very bottom. He steps up to the microphone and reads the name out:

"Rachel Undersee."

My heart stops.

Its me.

Its me.

I’m going to be in the hunger games.

I’m going to be in the hunger games.

And I’m going to die.

People turn towards me. Their eyes, burning through me like fire. I slowly start to make my way up to the stage, trying not to fall apart in front of everyone. I walk up the steps and the escort puts is hand around my waist and drags me to the front of the stage.

As he heads over to the other bowl, I look around the square and see how many cameras there are. It reminds me that this is being broadcast all over Panem so I need to get a grip and not look so frightened.

But that can be hard when you know you’re going to die.

"The second tribute from district 12 is…"

At that point I look up. I see my brother. Finn. He has a single tear rolling down his cheek. He is looking right at me I don’t even hear who the other tribute is. I just keep looking at my brother until I am dragged in to the justice building by angry looking peace keepers.

                                                *  *  *

Cob webs cover the corners of the windows and there is a cool draft. I am alone. Suddenly, the door opens and my mother and brother burst in. I hug them so tightly, I feel like I am crushing their ribs. At that point, I start to cry. Silently, hoping they won’t notice. “You can do this” my brother whispers. I don’t say anything in return, just squeeze his hand softly, to acknowledge what he says. My mother kisses me on the forehead and tells me she loves me over and over and over.

They head out the door but just before the go I grab my brother’s arm. “Finn!” I whisper. “Look after Mum, please.”                                                            ”I will” he replies, “I promise.”                                                                     “I love you, I’m so sorry it had to end this way.”                                          ”I love you too” his voice breaks, his lips quivering as he stars to cry. “Good bye, Baby Rach” My brothers always called me that. Always. That will be that last time he calls me that. He walks out, closing the door behind him.

I am alone.

Again.

It was a chilly day, despite the sun shining.

Somehow I didn’t think I was nervous. I wasn’t crying like other children, or shaking like some eighteen-year-olds who might just be lucky enough and get away from all this madness; I was still.

It was the same for the past three years: Stand, wait, and go back home. And I didn’t expect this year to be any different.

After this year, I’d be over halfway through the reaping stages.

I wanted to get the reaping quickly over with─dad was going to show me his new project from work after this! He said there needed to be something good once in a while. I couldn’t hardly wait after he told me.

I never thought that I wouldn’t get to see it.

I was half out of it when they called my name─Rena.

In a snap, a hundred heads turned to me, and I haphazardedly looked up, ignoring the whiplash that hit me in the neck.

W─

It took me more than just a second.

What?

Before I even knew it, there was a yell─a shout. I wasn’t even comprehending the fact that I was a tribute for the 100th Hunger Games when a boy─no, man pushed forward. He had black hair, like mine.

My eyes widened.

“No!”

It was hard to tell who said it louder. I reached out to stop him, but a few Peacekeepers stopped me. There were several on my brother as well.

“No,” he was repeating, “No! Take me instead!”

No, you can’t volunteer, the thought ran through my head. Brother can’t because he turned nineteen a few months ago.

As if she read my mind, the escort on stage smiled that sickenly fake smile, with caked white powder falling everywhere, and denied my brother, “Sorry, you’re no are no longer eligible to participate in the Games. The opportunity goes to your sister!”

How did she know he was my brother? I guess it was the black hair and similarity traits. Jumbled, useless thoughts were running through my mind, as I stared at the white-gray grainy pavement on the floor. The Peacekeepers were holding me by the arm, next to the armpits. It hurt, but I didn’t let it show.

“Opportunity?” My brother’s shaking voice jolted me to look. “As if this a gift or something. The Games are nothing but─”

No. Why are you so stupid, brother? You’re supposed to be the smart one. I opened my mouth to shout at him, to prevent him from continuing, but a Peacekeeper simply clamped his mouth shut and brought his arm down.

“Well,” the escort said. “Rena, will you come to the stage?”

I barely glanced at the Peacekeepers at my arms. I was hanging against them, like some kind of dead weight. These thoughts ran to me in less than a second. I couldn’t afford to look weak or hesitant.

Instead, I stood up straight, and kept my chin high.

I walked to the stage as strong as I could. My legs felt like they were shaking and about to give out, and it was all I could to hope that the District didn’t notice that.

The rest of the Reaping came by like a blur. Maybe it was because I had tears in my eyes. I didn’t know. My mind was so hazy. Where was mom, dad? I didn’t know. Is brother okay? I didn’t know.

I hated not knowing.

The Peacekeepers pushed me into a room on the stage. I knew now it was where I had to say my goodbyes. I had no chance of winning, I knew, so I should make the best of the numbered minutes I had left.

My mom came in first.

She had tears streaked down her face, her black hair stuck against her cheeks. I rushed forward to hug her and wounded her arms around my torso tightly.

“Mom.” It came out choked, harsh. I wish my voice didn’t sound like that.

“Shh, shh,” she said, stroking my now wet cheeks. “You’ll be fine.”

It was a lie, and she knew it.

I shook my head, but nothing came out. Instead, I tried, “how’s brother?”

“Lyan’s fine. The Peacekeeper didn’t hit him too hard so he’s outside waiting.”

I nodded.

We just sat there, hugging each other. She was stroking my hair like she did when I was little, though soon after I got annoyed for being babied. Why did I push her away?

“Time’s up,” a Peacekeeper interrupted.

Mom gave a broken sigh and one last squeeze before she pulled away. Her eyes were filled with tears, but they didn’t fall.

“I love you,” she said.

“I love you, too,” I replied. We said it often, but it was the most heartbreaking thing I said now.

When dad came in, I was in shambles. He didn’t even hesitate, even less than mom. In the midst of our short reunion, I said, “I’m sorry I won’t be able to see your new project. I bet it’s wonderful.”

That’s when dad broke down, I think. He’s always trying to be strong, trying to be the head of the family.

“That’s okay, Rena,” he said, laughing quietly. “That’s okay.”

After a long minute, he pulled away and exhaled.

“You should see your brother.”

  When he came in, I nonchalantly glanced towards him and sighed impatiently.

“Well, finally. I was wondering when you were going to show up. Lazy as always, huh?”

His face didn’t betray any emotion. His skin was unusually dark in this lighting, as if he hadn’t slept in days. He probably hadn’t.

After a long silence, he finally sighed out of exasperation and put his hand to his head. “Why do you keep joking to the last moment?”

I stood up from the chair and placed my finger on his forehead and tapped it a few times until his eyes lift and meet mine.

“Because of that,” I replied, pointing to his eyes. I point back to mind and continue, “Your eyes. They’re dull. Not like dull as in ‘I haven’t slept in days because I’ve been engineering way too much’ but ‘my little baby sister is only sixteen she can’t do anything.’ FYI, big bro, I ain’t the baby sister you took care of anymore.”

“You’re still the sister I need to take care of, though.”

It hurt, that sentence. However, I just smiled widely and said, “I won’t be your responsibility anymore, huh?”

Maybe that was too harsh. But Lyan needed to face the truth─I’m not coming back.

My brother broke through his facade and rushed forward to hug me in the most bone-crushing embrace I’m sure I’ll never get again: not from mother, not from father, not even from a possible boyfriend or husband.

I placed my hands on his shoulders and cried. It was silent because even then, I didn’t want to look weak.

“You can win, Rena.” That only made me sob harder. Brother’s embrace tightened. “You can. You’re smart; you can analyze situations. Wisdom is more important than strength.”

I didn’t say anything, but maybe I didn’t need to.

Finally, the Peacekeeper came and took my family away.

My last image before I boarded the train was my brother.

He was pointing to his brain.

I tasted blood yet again. It has some metallic taste which gives me a weird drive to continue fighting further. It was reaping day and I’ve been planning on volunteering this year. But there was a feeling I couldn’t shake from my head… I knew I was ready, I’ve been training since I was 5. Dad took me out because he knew I’d want to make my family proud. Family has always been important to me. As I got up I got another punch to the face. It was Kat. I asked her to come train with me to get my mind off of things. She knew what I was planning to do, and she was against it. But she wasn’t planning on letting me go without a quick fight. Kat had long curly golden hair and big brown eyes. She was pretty tanned and quite curvey. But she was small, which helped her with speed. She was also pretty damn strong. She knew how to take a punch, and she definitely knew how to give one back.

I decided to end the fight. I needed to go get ready for the reaping. If I want to get sponsors I need to at least look good. I quickly swiped her feet upwards so that she fell on her back. There was a loud smack as her back hit the matt. As I got on top of her I smacked her hard enough for her to give up. She had a bloody smile across her face but she was still beautiful. We’ve been going out for two years now, and there has only been one day I wasn’t happy since I asked her out. The day my best friend, Rick, died in the games. He was a year older and a lot bigger than me, unfortunately someone from district 6 killed him. He was almost in the final three. This is another reason I’m going into the games. For Rick. As we both got up we began talking. What would it be like when I’m away, what would it be like in the Capitol. Luckily we were neighbors so we had time to chat as we walked back. It was only 6:30 am and people were already frantic about getting everything ready… The sun wasn’t completely up yet and there was a light breeze which felt good on my arms. I was cooling down fairly quickly. As I was thinking about everyone I will miss, beginning with her. She interrupted my train of thought “So what are you going to do?”

"What do you mean? In the Games?"

"No, when a pig flies across the sky! Of course the games dumb shit!" She said as she gave me a “little” nudge. We constantly try to make each other laugh. Its just a distraction from all the little problems we see happening in the district. I told her my plan. I told her that I wanted to look happy, make sure the audience loved me, and then make them feel sympathetic. I wanted them to feel that it was their responsibility to get me out of the games alive. Then I told her what I was planning with the tributes. I wanted the other tributes to believe I don’t live up to the name "Career". I want them to think they have a chance. As for the female tribute - I hope its not Kat because I will not be able to live with myself if something bad happens to her.

To leave everything behind and knowing that there is a chance I won’t see anyone again, see her again, it does seem frightening. My dad likes Kat, which is a big plus. If it wasn’t for Kat, dad would be the only person I feel really understands me. He has taught me EVERYTHING. When I first started at the fighting academy, I needed to move up a class because dad has already trained me. I was the top of the class above too. Only things got a lot harder as I was smaller than everyone. While the guys gained muscle, weight, and height, I was just small and quick.

As we came around to her house, I gave her a kiss goodbye. And she kissed me back. Yet it wasn’t the usual peck. This time it felt different. I knew she was worried and I reassured her a thousand times that I’ll be fine. Her argument: “You can’t be sure until you’ve met the tributes, you’re in the games, and you’ve won.” I guess she has a point, I just hate seeing her worried like that.

As I opened the door I felt like I was tackled by my dad.

"Where the hell were you?" He seemed extremely worried.

"I was just out with Kat, we went to train." I understand that today is reaping day and he wants me to be ready but that doesn’t start until midday. I reach up to my mouth and feel the blood. Its dry by now so I quickly went to wash up, just as dad told me to. I have my own bathroom. I always wonder if other districts have that kind of luxury. I’m very curious about their way of living. As I hop out of the small tub to get the towel on my bed I find my clothes. Its a nice light blue button up shirt, with a dark blue collar. I remembered that shirt from my older sister’s 19th birthday. Our family practically took over the square in celebration that she wasn’t reaped. She wasn’t ready for it as I am. She’s now 24 and married to a great guy, who coincidentally, was my trainer in the academy. Jackson taught me almost everything I know. But he was smaller than me, and I still managed to beat him in a fight every once in a while. This shirt brought back a lot of memories. I met Kat for the first time that night. Now I’m leaving her with the same shirt. I’m surprised it still fits. Then again it was quite big on me when I first got it. As I put it on I feel its a little tight on the shoulders. My muscles have seriously developed in the last five years.

"Okay so no big movements, don’t raise your arms. Not until you get on the train at least" I tell myself as I button up the shirt. My pants are mustard yellow and the shoes are a classy brown. I liked what I was wearing. At least I’ll make an impression on the people in the Capitol. As I make my way down I realize its already 10 o’clock. I have to eat something and run. It’s a long walk to the square from where I live. Luckily my mum already had breakfast prepared. Baked beans, toast, cereal AND eggs. Sounds good. Every time we had a big day she would make me that breakfast and call it "The Victor’s Breakfast". I really hope it is. By the time I finished eating it was already 10:45.

I got up and ran across to the next house to fetch Kat. She looked stunning in a short yellow dress that went down to just above her knees. She had put her hair in a plat and she had small heels that made her eyes just reach my nose. Her mum was welcoming, as always, and joined by my parents we made our way to the square. But on the way, as our parents were talking, Kat and I managed to sneak off to a quick detour. If I was leaving we wanted as much time alone as we could possibly get. There was a spot behind the academy, that no one knew how to access. Jackson told me about this place when I was about 12.

"One day if you want to be alone with a girl you’ll just take her here won’t you?" He told me. Who knew it would be true. He always ‘encouraged’ me to chase after girls. Other than fighting, it was his one true passion. Until he married my sister that is. She is now 5 months pregnant and I am so happy to see Jackson this excited. He will be an amazing dad. And his kid will probably grow up to be the best fighter in Panem.

As Kat and I went around the corner we went to our usual spot on the field, where we can see if anyone comes but no one can see us. we were just lying there, quietly, her head on my chest. It was so peaceful that I almost had second thoughts about going.

"You don’t have to go!" She said, lifting her head up so that her eyes meet mine. "I mean your dad is already proud of you. You’ve been the top student in your class for the past 8 years."

"I have to go. My dad expects me to and I… I’m doi-…" I choked. I never told anyone the real reason I’m going. Should I tell Kat? Should I tell her I’m doing it for Rick? Yes. We shouldn’t keep anything from one another. "I’m doing it for Rick." I say. I knew I was blushing. I didn’t know what she was going to do. The next thing I knew she leant in to kiss me and I was frozen.

"That is the sweetest thing I’ve heard." She says. It makes me smile a little. "But there are other ways to show your love for a person."

I knew she wouldn’t understand. No one understood my connection with him. She could see I was confused. She knew I had to do this. Instead of arguing with me about it she simply kissed me on the cheek and said “But if that’s what you feel you need to do, I won’t stop you.” We lay there a little longer, occasionally kissing, when I realized we’ve been here for 30 minutes. We have to run to the square. The reaping starts soon and I couldn’t miss it.

After about 20 minutes of straight out sprinting we made it. And just in time. The line for the blood recognition was almost over. My name was entered five times. No more. I didn’t want someone volunteering if my name is called out. As I gave the lady my index finger in order for her to take my blood, I found my parents. My dad seemed worried because he couldn’t find me, and my mum simply couldn’t bear looking. She - just like Kat - didn’t want me to go. I  headed to the 16 year old males area. That’s how we’ve always done it in district two. I don’t know about the rest of the districts, which again leaves me wondering. Are they that much different?

Then it began. The escort came out through the big brown doors. She had blue hair, slightly darker than my shirt, it was in… pigtails? I never understood what the Capitol was up to when it came to that kind of stuff. Were they really that bored that they dressed up like… I don’t want to be rude but… FREAKS? Anyway she looked about 28 years old and she had a strong certain face. The kind that knows what she’s doing. She was extremely pale and had big lips. Her name was Gwineth Tonks. She wore a dress that was so tight around her legs it was a wonder she could actually walk. It was lilac with a weird pattern that was hard to see from afar. Her black shoes made her look ten feet tall. And on either side of her, two large bowls, filled with every person aged 12-18 in this district. How lucky would a 19 year old feel. Knowing that they managed to get away. Gwineth did her usual speech.

"Welcome! Welcome! Happy Hunger Games and may the odds be ever in your favor! Now, before we begin, we have a very special film brought to you all the way from the Capitol!" As the video played I managed to find Kat. I haven’t paid attention to the video. Not after the 3rd year I was eligible. It was the same every year. What was the point? Kat completely stood out. She was absolutely stunning in her yellow dress and I couldn’t keep my eyes off of her. Finally, once the video ended Gwineth continued to talk. "Now, as usual, ladies first!" as she fiddled around the bowl to find a tag that suits her, I managed to make eye contact with Kat. I immediately pulled a face to try to make her laugh. No matter how nervous I was, or how scared, her smile always made me feel better.

"Kat Smith" we hear. Within two seconds both of our smiles disappear. I realized that I must volunteer for her. There was no other option. I had to keep her safe. But of course I couldn’t. There needed to be another female tribute. But I was definitely going for the males. I already had the guys that know me stare. They knew I was in a relationship with Kat. As Kat made her way to the stage we heard someone behind us. "I volunteer!" Of course this wasn’t unusual here in District 2. Its almost guaranteed that there will be a volunteer every year. This girl was probably shorter than Kat, she had brown hair and she was fairly tanned. As she made her way up the stage, replacing Kat, I calmed down. But my heart was still beating so fast and so loudly I couldn’t catch her name when Gwineth announced it.

"Lovely! And now for the men." Gwineth said with a big smile. "And from the men, we have… Char-" And I immediately calmed down. I could volunteer. I wasn’t reaped. But the girl on stage had a look of horror. Were they related? Or at least friends? As this kid began to move around I saw him. He was a little twelve year old boy, and by the look of horror on the girl’s face, I could tell they were related. They looked similar, and no one could kill their own sibling in the Games. No one that I knew at least. Before even taking it for consideration, I blurted out "I VOLUNTEER AS TRIBUTE!". It took me some time to process what just happened, but it happened. That was it. I was in the games. It was wrong to take away the life of a 12 year old. I knew he could hardly stand a chance and I may have a better one. I repeated it in my head a thousand times. “That’s it. I volunteered. I’m going into the games.” I look over to Kat and see her tearing up. Same goes for my mum. But my dad has a reassuring smile. That’s what I need. I made my way to the stage, and told Gwineth my name.

"Now give it up to the-" Yet again I found myself unable to hear her. I was too busy thinking about 101 different things. "What if I die?" "I can’t die. I can’t leave Kat alone." "Why did I do this?" "Will it really make my dad proud?" "What’s going to happen to me?" Before I knew it I was being escorted inside and I was left in a room. Alone. I was left with my thoughts. I thought I was going insane.

After waiting for about 5 minutes, my mum came in, bursting through the door. “Oh my little baby!” She said. I didn’t even feel embarrassed. This could be our last moment together and I didn’t care about anything else. My mum had been crying as she told me that I was a “brave young man!” How I need to look after myself and make allies. Ah there it is. Usually on the first day of the academy year its “make friends.” This time its “make allies” and I knew exactly why. I won’t be able to kill a friend. An ally - maybe. I doubt it though. I’m not that kind of person. Why did I volunteer in the first place?

"You’ll be fine!" She told me. "You’ll win! I know you will!" I couldn’t help but to think what if I won’t. I love my mum. I really do. But I needed some time alone with my dad. He was a genius when it came to strategy, fighting, and mentality. My mum saw it in my face. She knew exactly what I needed. We hugged as a ‘final goodbye’ and she left. It was just me and my dad now. "What should I do?" I had a really worried tone and that was the one thing I wanted to avoid. Unfortunately, I didn’t get a battle plan. "Be yourself" he said. How does that even help? I need to kill 23 of them not make them hate me. He saw that I was confused. "Your are a great fighter Bran. You need to be yourself. You’re charismatic, you’re strong, you’re fast, you’re quick witted. It comes naturally for you." I began to understand, but I still found it strange. "Just believe that you can do it. don’t doubt yourself. You’ve fought bigger guys your entire life and the chances of you meeting someone more skilled in combat than bloody Jackson for goodness sake is very low. You can win." It almost seemed like he was getting mad. Or worked up at the very least. But that was it. That was his speech. I had to give him credit he did boost up my confidence a little. He kissed my forehead and hugged me goodbye. As he was about to close the door behind him he turned around and told me exactly what he knew I’ve always wanted to achieve. "I’m proud of you, son." And he closed the door. Even I began to tear up a little. But before I had the chance to process what happened, Kat burst through the door and hugged me. Again we did the thing when we just stayed there, not moving. Until finally I heard her whisper something to my ear. It made me not want to go to the games even more. Regret was definitely beginning to take over my head. It made me want to run away with her. " I love you too" I said, as I gave her a big smooch.

Too soon a peacekeeper came in the room, which caused us both to lean back. As we hugged one last time, the peacekeeper already began escorting her out. As our fingers touched for the last time, I called out “I love you” one more time, and the door shut. It was silent. I was left alone, with my thoughts. What the fuck did I get myself in to? I mean honestly. I practically volunteered to go into a game that will most likely end with blood on my hands. Either my blood, or another person’s. Either way it didn’t seem like a good way to spend the next, what two weeks? Month? These games could go on forever! I’m not a killer. I’m a fighter. But I’ve never fought in a life or death situation. Am I really that stupid? I wanted to chuck a brick at the wall. Or at the very least stitch my mouth shut, just so i don’t do anything stupid like this again. If I had the chance that is… Wait what the hell was I doing? My dad told me not to doubt myself and I completely ignored him. I need to listen to him. I’m beginning to really hate myself. This is so much bigger than I thought.