Chapter 1: Luke

With every day passing by Luke would become more and more nervous. There would be hours where he would just freeze and his face would get all pale. He would forget where he was. He would remember the day he lost his brother. The 44th games. The boy was just twelve. Oren Taxius. He was called up to represent district ten. Luke wanted to volunteer in his place, but his father's dark gaze held him back. He knew his father never approved of Oren. He was chirpy and feminine. He would spend much of his day with girls, acting like them. So when Oren walked forward, all Luke could do was cry.

...

Luke was sitting with a cup of milk in the corner of the market place. It wasn't much. Maybe two tablespoons. He looked up, and took in his surroundings. The sun had shifted. About three hours? Crap, Luke thought. It was about six o'clock. This vision was a long one. He threw the cup onto the table he got it from, Eldry Panche's stall. He jumped over the hay bale, and ran home. He lived in a neighborhood near the end of the district. His father was a Farmer and his mother cared for the baby. She was two months old, pale, and had piercing blue eyes, just like Luke's. When he reached his front lawn, his mother was sitting out front.

"Where have you been?" She got up hurriedly, walking forward to meet him. He had to lie to her. He had never told anybody about the visions.

"I was working late. To fill my quota," Luke fibbed. That was partially true. Luke worked as a butcher's assistant. Every day, he was sent to the local ranch to get meat for the butchery. There was a lot of meat, so he would spend all day doing the chore. He quickly developed large muscles doing it.

"You spend all day at that job, and get paid close to nothing," his mother said. Her eyes were scrunched and expression stern.

"We live in a poor society,"Luke responded, "No one has the money to pay."

"The ranchers do," she said.

Luke was a mellow boy. He was not built for active, riding work. "I have a job already. If the ranchers need someone to lift cows, they can come find me."

"We need that money," his mother shifted the baby from one arm to the other, "Do whatever it takes."

Luke walked inside the house. He went to his room, and grabbed a nice shirt. It was blue, with a torn pocket on the left side. He was not staying home tonight. Tomorrow was the reaping, and his friends always spent the last night together, lest someone should get chosen for the games. He was about to leave, when it happened again. He dropped the shirt, and froze in the middle of the room.

...

Luke was standing in front of a blue door. It was old, and had the capitol insignia on it. A peacekeeper walked out. He scanned the room, then trained his eyes on young Luke. The boy was about thirteen years old. His hair was much more blonde, and the scar on his chin was much more visible.

"You," the peacekeeper said, "It's your turn." Luke looked up. The peacekeeper was talking to him. He got up and walked forward. The peacekeeper opened the door, and Luke saw Oren through the threshold. He was standing in the center of a dark room. The only light was coming from the giant window facing the district square. Behind him, there was a bookcase. On the floor, a giant carpet with the symbol of the capital in the center.

Luke ran over and hugged his brother, who was in tears. Oren sobbed for about a minute, then spoke, "Luke, I can't do this."

"Sure you can," Luke said, trying to muster up as much confidence as he could. His hands were shaking, and he had tears running down his face, barely outlining his nose.

"I can't! I'm going to die! I don't want to die!" Oren fell to the ground. He he didn't get up, and Luke bent down to help him. "Why was it my name?" He asked Luke, "Why did I have to get picked?"

"I don't know," Luke said, "Your name was in there once. This shouldn't have happened." He was getting weaker by the second. He started to fear for his brother's life. "Listen to me. Be brave. You can't die. I need you. I need you to come home."

"I can't..." Oren stuttered quietly.

"Yes you can. I need my brother. I can't live without you."

The large door creaked open once again. The same peacekeeper as before walked through. "Time's up."

Luke turned to his brother one last time, "I love you." The peacekeeper grabbed his arm and guided him out of the room. The door closed, and Luke broke into tears. He fell to the ground, just like Oren. He looked at the peacekeeper. "Please," he said through tears, "Please!" The peacekeeper grabbed Luke by the arm. Luke struggled to break free. "No!" The peacekeeper swung at Luke, and he blacked out.

...

Luke looked out the window and saw the sun had gone down. He glanced at his feet. He had dropped his shirt. Luke bent over to pick it up. He grabbed it, and went over to the window. He took one last look at the picture of Oren at the night table, and climbed out.