My wheel chair lies on the ground next to me. I can't move. I can't breathe. I can't think. My vision is clouded. Where's my brother?

My throt feels clogged with smoke and fire. My whole body is going numb, and the only thought I have is what they will do now? There will not be one, at all. They killed us both, I'm sure of it. Who will accept the crown from him?

A cough echoes in my ears. Is it mine? Or is it his...

Memories flood in my mind, causing venomous tears to run down my scarred cheeks. The soot must be smearing, as my vision is now worse. I remember that day, how I hated it, how it came and engulfed us. We are only fourteen.

We are just twins.


The bed was warm, and when he stood above me it grew cold.

"I don't want to," I said harshly, covering my face. Dimitri sighed and shook his head.

"We have to go. I have to give you a bath."

"Maybe I don't want to bathe! I'd rather be nice and stinky for Ms. Dariya."

"You're acting like a child, Anastasia."

"I am a child."

"Anya, come on! You know for a fact that they won't pick us. Our names have only been put in there ten times this year. Now, let's go, up and at 'em."

I sighed and threw the blankets off, exposing my white gown and skinny legs. Dimitri slowly wrapped his arms around my torso and lifted me into a sitting up position before turning me sideways so he could pick me up. He'd probably take me straight to the bath. He did, carrying me bridal style. The water was surprisingly hot. "When did you make this?" I asked.

"I got up around five this morning, warming two pails for you and two pails for me. I almost ran the well dry," he smiled at me, unbraiding my hair and rubbing shampoo through it. My brother has this way about him, to where he thinks I can't do anything at all. I could wash myself if he left me alone in the bathroom, but he never does. Never did. He never let me prove it, either.

He took a cup and rinsed the bubbles out of my hair, then proceeded to wash the rest of me with soap and sponge. Dimitri worked carefully on my legs, taking every precaution as he inched his way downward. All the doctors from the Capitol had said the same thing: it was deadly if he broke one of my bones. Something about the marrow and poisonous chemicals contained for too long.

I'd been paralyzed since before I could remember. I never questioned it to any higher power.

Dimitri and Mother did though, oh, how they did. Prayers were common in our house, as was reading the Bible, but never had I prayed to walk. They all looked funny, the walkers, to me. Dimitri and Mother however would pray that someday I would magically stand up and be normal, go to school normal, walk like normal.

Suffice to say, it never happened, not then at least.

Once he was done bathing me he picked me out of the tub and took me back to my room. He dressed me in a light grey frock and white socks, new shoes from the trade-market. They were black and white, and they conformed to my feet comfortably.

I laughed. "Dimitri! How did you get these?" I wanted so bad to wiggle them with my toes and feet.

"I pulled a few strings." he patted my knee. "Mother should be in any minute now, to tell you how good you look and tell you goodbye for now. I'm going to go bathe."

My twin, still smiling, went back to the bathroom. I knew good and well his water would now be damp in temperature, and I felt guilty for going first. Dimitri always did that, too. He gave to others before himself. It's what I loved about him.

As he predicted, Mother came in and saw me, sitting dressed and laughing at a book in my wheel chair.

"You look lovely," her classical line rang out.

"Thank you," I placed my book open side down in my lap. "How was the City?"

"Crowded and loud. I had to go in earlier last night, after you two were off to bed. Mr. Popling has been straining shifts more and more, making them last as long as he could get them."

"A raise?" My voice was hopeful.

She shook her head and squatted next to me, grabbing my shoulders and staring into my eyes. None of the news was new to me; it never changed.

Dimitri walked in, now dressed in a plain shirt and trousers, with his old, ratty shoes. He tugged on his shirt and smirked like he was a grown man adored by many women.

She leaned forward and kissed my forehead gently, squeezing my hand and standing up, ruffling her fingers through my brother's dark curly hair. "Take care of her," she whispered in his ear, kissing him on the cheek and walking down the hallway to sleep off work for a few hours.

Dimitri looked to me, a broad grin on his face. "Ready to get this over with?

"As I'll ever be." He chuckled and walked around behind me, pushing the chair forward. As always I thought about how I could've pushed it myself. Over protective was what described Dimitri well, although I won't admit that I didn't enjoy the attention sometimes.

The walk to the Reaping was solemn and quiet, as Dimitri and I hardly talked. I listened to the creak of my chair, the crush of rocks under us, the butterflies fluttering and the birds chirping high in the trees.

Occasionally I tuned them out and listen to Dimitri's breathing. It was strong and passionate, as if every breath might be his last and he was making the most of it. Then there was mine; raspy, out of tune, struggling. It'd always been that way, ever since I'd had whooping cough or pertussis when I was a baby. It caused "permanent damage" as the Capitols put it.

That would get me killed if I were in the Arena. I knew it would, and that was what made me fear the most; it wasn't my chair, but the breathing. I must've been out of my mind.

The Square was loquacious. I couldn't ever hear myself think, much less what Dimitri was trying to say to me when he rolled me to the girls' side. 'Can you handle it from here?' he mouthed. I nodded, and made the sign-language sign for "love you". He grinned, did it back, then headed off to his side. I sat my place in line until they called "next" and I went up and had my finger pricked. They told me to move on, an upset look spread across their features. I kept on pushing the giant wheels, finally coming to a stop in the middle of the crowd.

Dariya Wedroe took the stage, her hair bright neon yellow and her clothes neon green. She wore green eyeliner that I could see distinctly from forty feet away.

"Welcome, welcome!" she cheered into her microphone, "To the seventy-third annual Hunger Games Reaping of District Five!"

Claps rang out. I wasn't one of them.

Dariya smiled. "Good, good. Now, as is tradition, we will do the ladies first." Walking over in her ten inch hot pink heels, Dariya ran her fingers through the bowl, circling it like a shark.

You know that feeling in the pit of your stomach that you get when you know you're going to get picked to read something out loud in class? I had that feeling, and I wanted to flee, to wheel away faster than lightening, because I knew that as soon as she read that card I would be a tribute, a dead one anyway.

She smiled like a Tyrannosaurus does before ripping its meal to pieces, as she read out, "The District Five girl tribute will be..."

The seconds ticked by endlessly, and she looked as if she were smiling to every person in the expansive crowd.

"Anastasia Flemhoff," she smiled, and then waited. I didn't move; I was frozen. Dimitri's eyes widened and he looked at me, and I could tell he was about to bolt, until he realized there was no way he would be able to volunteer for me. He was a boy, I a girl.

His words rang in my head, We're only in there ten times this year. You won't get picked.

You were wrong, I thought sourly, finally gaining the courage and moving forward. Some gasped (including Dariya), some laughed slightly, some whispered, "Oh, God..." as if I were a poison.

I rolled all the way to the stairs with the Escorts beside me. I couldn't get up on stage if I wanted to.

Dariya motioned one of them over and whispered something to him, at which he repeated to all of the men. The next thing I knew, they were lifting me into the air, grunting and straining, managing to get me over by sheer luck. My face was redder than a tomato, as the crowd went silent, finally starring at the girl in the wheel chair who would be their tribute.

Dariya, smiling again, looked back out to the crowd (she'd already grabbed the boys') and read out the name. "The District Five boy tribute is...Warren Splice!"

People cheered and clapped. Warren was the toughest, most popular boy at school, who took three different types of gym a day. He was also Dimitri's enemy.

Dimitri's reaction was immediate, although when our eyes met I begged him not to, whispering, "No..."

He did it anyway, running out and screaming, "I volunteer!"

Once again collective gasps erupted, as he pushed Warren back and ran up to the stage.

Warren's face released its tension and his paleness went away. He nodded his thanks, though we all knew it wasn't for Warren or some insane death wish to prove him to district Five; it was to protect me.

Dariya laughed, "This is marvelous! Tell us your name, sir,"

She held the microphone under his nose. "Dimitri Flemhoff," he stated proudly, looking strong and elegant compared to me.

"Oh, so I see. Is this your younger sister?" She was referring to me.

"No, she's my twin," he admitted.

"And how old are the two of you?"

"Fourteen..." I mumbled, but she ignored me and shouted, "Well, now, as you can see we have our two tributes - Anastasia and Dimitri Flemhoff!"

There was no applauding. There wasn't even a cricket chirp.

And then, as they always did to wish luck, everyone held three fingers to their lips and lifted them upwards.

I took it as a sign to never let go.


I don't know if I'll make this a one shot or not. I might continue, if asked, but as of right now I think I'll leave it as this. I have to finish "Life" first. :) God bless!

~Future