A/N: The twins' names are not my credit. They are one of my online friend's. I made up completely the rest, though. ;'D

Disclaimer: I own none of the original characters from Hunger Games, neither do I own Hunger Games.

Rated M for future stuff.

I own all of the tributes that are going into the games.

Chapter 1. The Reeping.

Aka's P.O.V.

"Sokka, wait!" I let out a squeal, desperate to catch up with my twin. It's too hot, the sun beating down on us. He turns slightly, smiling nervously.

I hear his intake of breath before he responds, "We have to hurry before the Reeping."

The name is just so hard to hear, even I shudder. No one likes the games. It's always filled with blood and gore. I think the only ones who find fun in these sick games is the Capital. But, they're horrid and cruel people, anyways.

"Aka?" he asks gently. I don't reply right away, mind still lost in the future deaths that will happen. So many young kids. I hate how they lowered the ages to 10, and risen them to 25.

"Dammit," he mumbles, "I knew I shouldn't have said anything .."

At this, I look up at him with my unusual red eyes. His face crumples up into a smile. My favorite one. He presses a quick kiss on my forehead.

"We should be getting ready," I murmur once he's close enough, tugging his shirt sleeve.

He nods in agreement, holding my hand as we turn to the gate that separates District 12 from the woods. We slip under the fence that's been dead for years. As we walk home, he tugs me close and smiles at all the Peacekeepers as if they were his favorite people in the world.

You and I both know that I'm the favorite. I sigh when I lean into him, cuddling into his shoulder. I don't want to look at the dumb Peacekeepers.

"Do you think Mom forgot?" he questions me gently. I give a lifeless shrug. He sighs in response, tugging softly on one of my curls. We are about half way from our home now, I notice, as we walk across the dying lawns.

Eventually, we are in front of the house. He opens the door wordlessly, letting go of me. "Mom?" he yells out, looking for her with a dazed look.

I glance around, to see her walking in. She smiles a bit, wrapping her arms around her swollen belly. "Go take a bath, Sokka. You, too, Aka. Took forever to boil up the water."

I'm instantly suspicious of her actions. Oh, what the hell. She has a baby on the way, and her two babies might be taken away to the horrid games. Sokka nods, already gone, heading for his father's room.

Yeah. His father's. I refuse to call him mine anymore.

My mother glances at me, running a calloused, though soft, hand across my cheek. "Upstairs, beautiful. There's clothes waiting on your bed after when you're finished."

I flinch at the contact, not bothering to reply as I walk to my bathing area.

Wordlessly, I strip, sitting down in the warm tub-basket thing we own. I glance around, picking up a scrubber silently as I scrub my skin practically raw. The pain doesn't matter anymore. At least, to me. I all but cry from it. It's not like it's as bad as before. I shudder, banishing these thoughts from my mind instantly.

After I was done, skin stinging, I get up. Sighing, I walk to my bedroom, staring at the dress. Huh. This was my mother's, I believe. A soft, pastel pink dress. Where did she even get this? I furrow my eyebrows as I take it. She walks in the doorway, looking at me with a smile.

"Wear it, honey. Then, I can put your hair in a bun."

I hesitate, before asking in a soft voice, "With my curls?"

She smiles. "With your curls."

I don't smile back, turning away from her as I put on the clothes. I like the fabric, as much as I hate to admit it. It's soft against my milky white thighs.

Turning to her, I give her a shrug when she continues to smile. Boy, is she trying too hard? I think she is.

Maybe I'm being too mean. I push this off my mind, not caring. Whatever. Not my fault. She chose this.

She seems to let out a small sigh as I turn back around, wordlessly telling her to style my hair. She does so, her careful fingers putting up my hair. With only half of my hair in a bun, the rest falls down in long curls.

I feel Sokka's presence - Yeah, I "feel his presence" -. I turn slightly, smiling brightly at him. He doesn't smile back. I step towards him, concerned. Then freeze.

No. Why is he wearing those clothes, I want to say. You're wearing the wrong clothes, Sokka. Those aren't your's. Those are your father's.

"I'm sorry, sweetheart," my mom says quietly, frowning. "It's the only nice clothing in the house for men."

I shudder, then force my smile back on my face. "Oh, no, it's fine. Sokka looks," I pause, "great in it."

Sokka kisses my head lovingly when he's moved close enough, taking my hand within his own. It's okay, because if I just .. If I don't look at his clothing, it won't be like it's my dad - I mean, his dad - touching me once more.

"We still have at least an hour," my mom offers, "maybe you can eat something, Aka."

Obviously. Trying to make me go back on my regular, average diet. The diet a normal teenager should be on.

"No, I'm good. We should get there early, anyways," I reply, grasping Sokka's hand in a death grip. He strokes my thumb, telling me to calm down with just this gesture.

I relax, breathing calmly. "C'mon, Mom. There's a lot of teens, it'll take forever," I insist when it looks like she's about to disagree. She sighs, biting her bottom lip and nodding, giving in.

We are walking out the door just like that. As we walk, it takes at least a minute or two to get to the main place. There's already a long line. I wait, and get my finger pricked. Sokka's is being pricked next to me. I finally pull away and walk beside my twin to the line of 17 year olds.

I grasp his hand, and wait longer before our mayor hops up and says the normal speech. Then, it's the other announcer's turn. Fifa. I shudder as I look at her. She has a bright red wig, along with bright red clothing. Weird Capital tendencies. Do they know how odd and scary they look to us?

I slump slightly when I hear her high, frilly tone of, "Ladies first!"

Please, please, please, don't let it be me. I'm a stiff figure, and I glance over, desperately looking over for my mom. I find her, and she's staring at us, biting her lip nervously.

"Aka Jared!" she says loudly. Wait, what? Did I hear that correctly? Some of the teenagers shift over slightly to me. Sokka lets go of my hand, but takes it back, noticing I'm not saying anything, let alone moving. I am a stone.

He kisses my hand in the most gentlest way as I fight to breathe. Some Peacekeepers step up slightly, as if to help, but I flinch at their tries of contact. Fifa, I know, is frozen, waiting. I have a feeling Katniss and Peeta are waiting on the side.

"Aka, sweetie, sweetie. You have to go up there," Sokka whispers to me when he realizes no one is going to volunteer for me. I nod, reaching up to give his shoulder a squeeze and kissing his jawline. He lets go of my hand as Peacekeepers finally lead me to the stage. Everyone is staring at me, as if I were a bug. I shudder, hoping the male isn't what I think it will be.

Fifa smiles brightly. "Now the men's.." Her hand sticks in the ball, shuffling her fingers within the little papers. She takes one small slip out, squinting slightly at the writing.

"Sokka Jared!" she says, loud and clear. I freeze on the spot. Then, watch him as he shuffles his way up the steps, and to stand beside me.

Fifa smiles brightly. "I bet my buttons you two are twins.."

I don't say anything, still in shock. Fifa frowns. "Well, now time to shake hands!"

This I hear. Sokka does, too, reaching his hand across to grasp it within mine. I grasp his hand tightly, staring into his red eyes. Almost like staring into a reflection.

He offers me a tiny smile and the slightest of a shrug, as if to say, "I knew this would happen sometime". I don't say anything, because I had really hoped and wished on every star that this wouldn't happen.

That I wouldn't have to kill my twin in the end.

A/N: So, how do ya like it so far! ;'D

Always, review!

~iiCollz.