Tears silently streamed down my face as District 7 faded over the horizon line. I hoped no one would notice me but alas, I could only hope. I looked up at the 18 year-old boy from my district. He knelt to be level with my eyes as I sat in a chair and brushed my tears away before embracing me. I immediately started sobbing loudly into his chest, as if on cue.

His name was Mark. He was tall and muscular with dark hair and eyes. I had only known him a few years but I might as well have known him my whole life. At least that's what it felt like anyway. He was always there when I needed him and I felt I owed him some sort of gratitude. Every time I mentioned this to him, he waved it off, telling me there was no need to repay him. And now he was practically sacrificing his life for me.

The reaping had obviously not gone well for me. My name had been picked from a ball. No one would dare volunteer and I wouldn't blame them, that would be crazy. Mark did the only thing he could to protect me. He volunteered for male tribute. I could have killed him then and there. How foolish he was in doing this. I didn't need him there with me, I needed him at home, where I knew he'd be safe. I loved him.

I was leaving five siblings at home. All of who had counted on me to feed them and protect them everyday. Who would help them now? My parents were dead and gone, killed in a forest fire. I was gifted in medicine and healing and healed many of those caught in the blaze, including Mark. That was almost two years ago, I was a frightened 14 year-old girl who was insensitive to death and blood. I assume this is why Mark won't let me repay him, I saved his life. He only thought it right to protect me in these games.

My parents being dead, and given me time to grieve with my siblings, I had to find a way, although almost impossible, to move on. Becoming the town healer was what kept my mind off of things except for the games and what I'd do if I or my siblings were reaped. As I helped people, they gave me food or game to cook. This is how I kept myself and brothers and sister alive. Now they didn't even have me.

I cried silently as I said goodbye to all of them, I hugged them all, and told them they'd be taken cared of. I lied and told them everything would be okay when our world was crashing down around us. My neighbors said that they'd check in on them and makes sure they ate something. And now, I was on a train speeding ever closer to my fate.

Mark and I sat in silence on the couch. I stared blankly at the dark TV screen, not acknowledging my reflection. I felt Mark grab my hand and squeeze it gently. He had a way of calming me down, of giving me false sense of security. But a false sense of security was just as good as feeling safe right now.

Dinner was extremely quiet. I hadn't felt like eating, even though I was wasting away to practically nothing. I knew how to be hungry. If food was scarce at home, I'd give all of it to my siblings and I'd chew on bark or grass to hold me over. I knew how to identify plants, poison was easy to spot for me after working for so long at it. Our escort had bright green hair (a wig, I suspected), she also had a very pale and powdery face. I believe her name was Gemma.

Gemma glanced over at me, pushing my capitol delicacy around on the plate. She looked astonished that I wasn't eating, as if refusing food was a sin in the capitol. It was more of sin at home, when you didn't know when your next meal would be or even if you would get a next meal.

"Sweetheart, you must eat something," She insisted, "Try some of the beef stew, it's delicious!"

I dipped my spoon into some of the broth and sipped it to satisfy her. I cringed at her capitol accent and attitude. I didn't like to be told what to do.

"I'm not very hungry." I stated.

I was about to say something more rude, and perhaps Mark noticed this. Just as I was about to speak again, I felt him grab my hand again and gave a gentle yet firm squeeze. I held my tongue. I had no right to be rude. These people had done nothing wrong to me. I told myself I'd try to be less critical from this point on.

Later on, I had finished my dinner besides not being hungry. Everyone had left the table leaving Mark and I alone. I realized we hadn't spoken once since we left home. I looked up at him, he was much taller than me, even when we were seated.

"Why did you do it? Why did you volunteer?" I asked

"I still owe you for saving my life two years ago." He replied, "I couldn't let you die. I felt I had to protect you."

"You don't owe me anything, Mark. Why did you do this to yourself? What if your efforts are lost? What if we both die?" I started panicking, my chest felt tight and I felt strangled of air.

"I'll make sure you don't die. I promise you."

"But that means you're left for dead. What am I without you? I won't be able to function. I might as well die in the Hunger Games. Because if I win, that means you're gone, and what better than dead does that make me? My family is as good as dead whether I get out alive or not. Because I won't have you with me everyday! I need you at home more than you'll ever know..." I stood up and walked to my compartment.

I hadn't so much as glanced backward to catch Mark's reaction, I hadn't even waited for a response. I didn't need him to answer me, I just needed him to listen. It never hurt to just hear someone out. I fell onto my bed and wept into my pillow, hoping I'd just suffocate. This was by far the worst day of my life, someone I loved, who was not family, had done something so foolish to save me. Even though he wouldn't know it, he would be volunteering for a lost cause. I was dead without him.

So, I was thinking to myself the other day about writing a fanfiction about the YouTuber, MarkiplierGAME. This guys is absolutely hilarious even though this is sort of a somber story. There is a lot of symbolism in this story, seeing as Mark helps the main character, who's name is Soli, (I know, I didn't mention it in this chapter) her name means alone, like a lot of Markiplier's fans feel somethimes. Mark helps his fans feel better and to some, he's the only thing they have to hang onto in life. The holding of hands symbolizes how Mark helps us through our rough days and he is like the promise of a new day to us. Anyway, thank you for reading! I'll try to update soon! MARKIPLITES UNITE!