"Is there anybody there? Can anybody help, to get me out of here? 'Cause you're walking down a road that I can't go." Champagne's For Celebrating; Mayday Parade.

This is the first time I've written a third-person story in a very long, so if it's completely crappy let me know, and I might change it to first person! Reviews are very appreciated guys :) By the way, which is preferred; first or third person? (Don't worry, the prologue will stay in third person, I'm inquiring about the remaining chapters.)

Disclaimer: I do not own the Hunger Games, nor do I own the rights to the Mayday Parade lyrics that will be featured before each chapter. The quotation that I used as my summary was spoken by the wonderful Johnny Depp. (As you may have noticed, this is the second fic where I have used one of his quotes.)


Prologue; The Seventy-third Hunger Games

Well this hurts me more than I can stand to say,
in just one sitting.
You left the room so I could pray.
So I'll pace the halls to see if I could find a hole in something,
or maybe places to escape.


The day of the reaping was a cold, grey sort of day. The sort of day that occurred too often in district twelve. It was one of those days where everything looks even more bleak than it really is. The kind of day where having twenty-two entries in the reaping is one of the scariest things that could be imagined. It was the kind of day that Aren Nettly woke up to.

Aren had turned eighteen just a few short months ago. He had been signing up the tessarae since he had turned twelve, which explained why he had so many entries. He had signed up so his little sister, only sixteen, would never have to. He wasn't the only one who did this. He knew of plenty other families where the eldest sibling wouldn't allow the younger to sign up.

Though he was the son of district twelve's butcher, Rooba, their family was hardly any better off than those who lived in the seam. There were nights were they went to bed without food in their bellies. Did people actually think the Capitol would let them eat better? Hardly. Just because his mother had a decent job that kept them from starvation did not mean that they were rich, that they could afford luxuries, that they never had to sign up for the extra grain every year.

This was his last year, his last year to sit through this horrid reaping. It was the last year where he might be picked, might be killed. As long as Shayla's name never came out of that glass ball though, it would all be worth it. Everything would be worth it.

Aren rose out of bed quietly, trying not to wake his sister who was still safely trapped in her dreamland in the bed across the room. He hastily washed in the basin in the adjacent bathroom, pulled on his best clothes, and tip-toed into the small kitchen. His mother was already sitting there, exactly where he had left her the night before. It looked as though she hadn't slept a wink. It was no different from any other reaping day though. Rooba always stayed up before the reaping. It was the only day of the year she indulged in coffee.

She looked up blearily when her son walked into the room. She was so proud that he had inherited her late husbands features. Tall, broad-shouldered, with the dark hair and grey eyes of the Seam. Every time she laid her eyes on him, she saw her loving husband, and it always made her feel comforted, as though Ren were still here.

"Morning," Aren mumbled, settling down in the chair across from his mother. She inclined her head, but didn't speak. He hadn't expected her to. She didn't talk much on the reaping day. She never had. Aren remembered his father taking him aside when he had been twelve and telling him that Rooba's sister had been reaped when they were girls. She had never really gotten over it, and every year it was like she was having to go back and watch her sister being reaped again, and again.

That had been the first year Aren had been in the reaping, with four entries in the reaping ball. Aren remembered that day clearly; his hair had been parted perfectly, his shirt and trousers pressed and spotless. His sister and parents had stood behind the small roped off area designated for potential tributes, the worry so evident on their faces that it had almost reduced Aren to tears. He had been brave though, and it had paid off. He hadn't been reaped.

Three years later, his father died during a mine explosion that had killed several other of District Twelve's husbands, fathers, and sons. He had accepted the medal without a word while in the Justice Building. Rooba had hardened since then. She had thrown herself into her work, but Aren had noticed that she had also been kinder. To those who were just shy of the amount needed to purchase meat, she had accepted what they had. If the Capitol ever found out, she would have been punished a thousand times over. Nothing ever comes cheap.

Aren and Rooba sat at the table as the sun rose and shone through the one lone window in their kitchen. They waited until they heard Shayla moving around in the bedroom. Aren stirred from his reverie and began to pull together brunch. He used the last of the lump of cheese they had bought from a small girl in the seam who had a goat. Her name was Primrose or something of the like. Her sister always visited the shop with meat to trade. Rooba was generous with her offers, as Katniss always shot the animals through the eye, not ruining any of the meat. Aren had to give her props for that, at least.

When Shayla emerged from the bedroom, her long, wavy brown hair was pulled up in a sleek, wet ponytail. She was wearing a lilac dress, one that tied in the back, but otherwise was quite plain. She smiled in a tired sort of way at Aren as she took up her spot at the table. Rooba put her arm around Shayla's shoulders and allowed Shayla to lean into her. Aren laid out the cheese, bread, and dried strips of meat on the table to feast on before the reaping started.

The meal was consumed in silence, when normally Shayla tried to fill up the room with her chatter. She always felt the need to make up for Aren and Rooba's stubborn quietness. She was like her father in that way, she always tried to engage people in conversation. Aren couldn't even imagine what she would be like if her name was ever drawn from the reaping ball. She would have to try and talk the other tribute's to death.

The food felt like stones as it landed in Aren's stomach. He could feel it; there was something about this reaping that was going to end in disaster, for him or his family or maybe just someone he knew. He pushed the rest of his food away and waited for Rooba and Shayla to stop picking at their own portion so they could go to the square.

Rooba pushed away from the table, murmuring that she had to go and get dressed. Shayla pushed her food away as soon as her mother left the room and locked eyes with her brother. Brown eyes and grey eyes clashed, a silent conversation waging between the two.

"Everything's going to be fine, Are."

"I know." Shayla regarded her older brother for a moment longer then pushed away from the table and went in search of her good shoes. Aren sat at the table until the two women in his life were ready. He took one lasting look around their tiny home, memorizing each nook and cranny, before he closed the door behind him.

Aren escorted his sister into the roped-off section where all of the girls were supposed to stand. She fell in with Madge and Katniss, both of whom were a year her junior. When he was reassured that she was staying put and idly talking to the girls, he went and stationed himself within his own roped off section for the boys.

Effie Trinket arrived, her hair electric blue to match her God-awful lipstick. She announced the mayor, who read a stupid speech about the meaning of the Hunger Games, like he did every year. Effie clapped, but she was the only one who did. She introduced Haymitch next, the drunken lout who had somehow managed to win the fiftieth Hunger Games. Then it was on to the reaping with her signature quote, "may the odds be ever in your favour!"

"As usual, ladies first." Effie trilled as she reached a manicured hand into the large glass ball that held within it the destiny of one young girl. She surveyed the crowd as she walked back to her microphone and opened the slip of paper. There was complete silence in the area. "Madeline Linghen!"

A young girl with straight black hair burst into tears, and had to be nearly dragged by the peacekeepers up to the stage. A wail was heard at the back of the crowd, where the people too old to be reaped were standing. Aren let out a breath of relief, hating himself for being glad that it had been Madeline and not his sister whose name had been chosen from the ball.

Effie was speaking again, "and now it's time for the boys!" Aren wondered how she could be so cheerful, when she was sending two children off to their deaths. Her hand skimmed the top papers before she finally selected one, adding to the tension in the air. She made her way back to the microphone and slowly opened the slip. "Aren Nettly!"

Shock. That was the only emotion that could be described as what Aren was feeling. He blinked a few times as the other boys drew away from him. His friends. They were abandoning him for the Hunger Games. They already knew he was dead. Aren took a deep breath, nodded his head shortly, and turned to move toward the stage.

There was a scream from the girl's section as Aren began his stiff walk up to the podium. He didn't dare to glance back at his sister; he was sure he wouldn't be able to make it up onto the stage if he saw her. The one person he loved more than life, whom he had vowed to protect. He wouldn't be able to protect her anymore. He would have to leave it up to fate, and he hoped that fate would be kind to her as it hadn't been to the rest of the family.

Katniss and Madge were holding Shayla back as she fiercely tried to get to her brother, moans of "no, not him, not Aren, anyone but him..." escaping her mouth as the tears ran freely down her face. She couldn't bare to watch as Effie told the tribute's to shake hands. She could only scream as Effie took both by the shoulder and led them into the Justice Building.

The second the doors had closed behind her son, Rooba was beside Shayla, taking over for the two poor girls who had no idea what to do or say. She gently took her daughters hand and pulled her to the Justice Building. "Don't cry, Shay, don't cry." Rooba crooned as she supported her only daughter up the stairs. "Your brother is the toughest boy we know. He'll be fine."

Shayla burst through the doors that the guards had indicated housed her brother and ran to him, sobbing. He enfolded her in his arms, fighting back the tears himself as he made eye-contact with his mother. She didn't shed a tear, but he could see the pain in her eyes as she surveyed him, drinking in his image.

"Why was it you, why did it have to be you, it shouldn't be you, you don't deserve this, this is wrong, I can't live without you." Shayla was sobbing uncontrollably as Aren rubbed her back, trying to sooth her. He knew there was nothing he could say to make her stop. He knew that this would change her just as surely as it changed every family that had been touched by the Games.

"Everything's going to be okay, Shay, you're going to be okay." He whispered into her hair, knowing nothing would be okay. He knew they were just empty words, but she didn't have to know it.

"Promise me, Are. Promise me you won't leave me." Aren closed his eyes and pressed his face into his sister's shoulder.

"I promise, I will never leave you. No matter what happens, Shay, I'm always going to be with you."

The peacekeepers barged in, and Shayla disentangled herself from her brother long enough for him to hug Rooba. Then the doors were closing behind the two people that had given the world meaning. Aren sat down shakily on the loveseat and finally allowed the tears to come. There would be no other visitors. His friends would not want to see him like this. He didn't want to see them anyway. He didn't think he would be able to handle it. He needed a clean break. He needed them to remember him as the boy before the Games, not this blubbering baby.

The next three weeks were like a personal hell for Shayla and Rooba. They were forced into watching Aren being dressed up in a ridiculous coal-miner costume as he was paraded around for all to see. They watched as he was interviewed, though he stoically wouldn't participate in the banter Ceasar Flickerman tried to incite out of him. They watched as he entered the arena, as he rushed away from the cornucopia without a single thing to help him survive.

Mother and daughter watched as Aren Nettly was killed on the second day of the Games by a Career who had no doubt been trained for years. They watched as this career, who had destroyed their lives, was crowned victor. They watched as he gloated over his killings. They watched as the Capitol stood by and let their world come crashing down.


What did you all think? :) Just a warning: this probably won't be continued if I don't think anyone is interested, so all of your reviews count! Please drop me a review, constructive criticism is definitely welcomed!