Hello! Happy belated Easter!

So, another sad fic.

This combines the popular-fan-theory/almost-canon-at-this-point "Foxface Suicide Theory" and my own idea of Foxface. I was going to give her a name, but I realized: a.) it sounds cooler and more mysterious without one. b.) the name I was going to use was Hannah, and my best friend is named Hannah. I honestly didn't make that connection until I was actually writing it.

Ships are: Major- Foxface/OC-I-created-for-the-purpose-of-this-fic Minor: Everlark

Enjoy!

The Ginger Avox

The red-haired girl faced the bush of berries in front of her. Just the smell of them told her what they were. Nightlock berries. One taste and she'd be dead. Obviously she was going to avoid those. But then again . . .

Who's left? Her, girl 12 and boy 12, boy 2, maybe girl 2. Is that it? Not a lot. Did she really last this long? Her? Lowly runt from five? Now she is here. Along with the most feared competitors in the arena. Oh no. No no no. Why? Why couldn't she have just died in the first bloodbath? Why prolong her death? It's been coming for years now. She sank to her knees on the leaf covered ground as memories bombarded her.

I ran as fast as I could. My small, twelve-year-old legs couldn't move fast enough. They're going to catch me. But I have to try. My brother died in last year's Hunger Games. My other brother died two years ago, again in the Hunger Games. I don't want to be reaped. I know I'll be reaped, my whole family was.

The hovercrafts are fast. I can't outrun them. If they find me, when they find me . . .

I don't have time to think about that. There are heavy footfalls behind me. They're coming. Something hits my back and the world fades away.

The girl gasps and opens her eyes. That was the day her life ended. From then on everything went wrong.

I wake up in a white room. The walls are perfectly white, I can't tell the difference between one side of the room and another. It all blends. I open my mouth and move my lips to ask where I am, but no sound comes out. I put my hand on my sore throat and feel a turtleneck. Under that, scars that weren't there before.

Someone approaches me. It is a boy, maybe a year older than me. His hair is black, though I can see blonde hairs under the dark color. He wears a white turtleneck full-body tunic. His eyes are fixed on the floor, even as he walks. I know what he is. An Avox.

He takes out a piece of paper and a pen. He quickly scribbles something on the paper and holds it in front of my face so I can read it. The paper says, "Don't try to talk. It will still hurt for a while."

I grimace and sit up slowly. A chunk of my hair falls in front of my face. If I could scream, I would have. Instead of bright orange hair like all my family had, I saw black hair. Avox black hair.

I can't talk. My hair is black. And upon further inspection, I'm wearing a white turtleneck full-body tunic.

I'm an Avox.

Without even realizing it, the girl started to cry. Crying over her fallen brothers, her unfair life, her time as an Avox.

The Avox boy I first met (Matthias, as he wrote once), kept me company for three years. He kept me sane. When the Peacekeepers weren't watching Avoxes, making sure we stayed obedient, we would sneak away. Just to a quiet part of whatever building we were in. And we would run. We would run in our ridiculous tunics until we couldn't run anymore.

And we would write. Any paper we could get our hands on, anything we could write with, we would use it to talk. He's from ten. He ran away with a girl from nine, but the Capitol shot her. They made him an Avox.

I told him about my family, or what was left of it. He gave me a small, sad smile and changed the subject.

He would help me run faster. Our problem wasn't that we tried to run away from the Capitol; we just didn't run fast enough. With each other's help, we were running faster than ever.

We began to get cocky. Saying we could run all the way back to our districts without the Capitol even noticing we're gone. Then those jokes turned serious. We started to legitimately consider it. Why not? Would they really miss two Avoxes?

The girl quickly wiped her eyes. Someone was coming. She quickly hid herself in the underbrush and hoped for them to pass. The rest of her time as an Avox to when she entered the arena came in flashes as she waited to see who the threat was.

The escape. We ran as fast as we could, but it wasn't fast enough. Matthias sacrificed himself so I could go home. He pushed me forward as a Peacekeeper shot at him. I kept going for him.

The Reaping. Once I was back in five, I came two weeks before the Reaping. That meant I had to put my name in. And maybe it was the curse of my family, but I was picked. Out of every other name, they chose me. Why?

The parade. My stylist put a gaudy silver ring around my head and neck to "hide those hideous scars." I have a feeling that if he knew how I got those . . . well he might not have cared. Why would he?

The interview. Again, another outfit hiding my neck. My mentor knew that I couldn't speak and made a recording of some girl's voice that I could pass of as my own. I fooled Caesar and the Capitol people. Using a voice that isn't my own to please them. Apparently, that's what my life has come to. A puppet to the Capitol, now and forever.

Her eyes shot open. Someone was moving the nightlock berries around. It was boy 12. Doesn't he know those will kill him? Probably not. He was smiling as he picked them and put them in his pocket. He raised one to his mouth then hesitated. He smiled to himself again. "I'll save these for Katniss."

This boy is hungry, maybe even starving, and he want's to wait for his girlfriend before he eats? It turned the girl's stomach at how sweet it was. The closest thing she and Matthias ever had to 'sweet' was a stolen kiss before the Capitol put a bullet in him. Boy 12 walked away, berries in hand.

The girl stood in front of the bush. Her eyes were drawn to the nightlock still on the bush. Could she . . . Should she . . . Would she . . .

It would be the quickest, easiest way. Better than being killed by a career. She could do it. Take away the last bit of power the corrupt ruler of Panem had over her.

One thought stood out among the rest in her jumbled mind: I can be with Matthias.

That sealed it for her. She didn't even give herself time to think and back out, she just grabbed a fistful of berries and put them in her mouth.

The cannon sounded before she hit the ground.

Hope you all liked it, tissues for all, as always. My friends say that my stories should come with a box of tissues and cookies for comfort.

Write on!

~Olivia-Ivy