I felt a shiver run down my spine, as I stood at the window of my small home, watching as the rain dripped quickly down the glass.

I was waiting for my closest friend in the entire district- District 9- to come and visit me.

I'd been waiting for multiple hours, for the poor girl to arrive, and she still hadn't come.

I sighed, and glanced out the window one more time, before grabbing a coat, and running out the door.

My name is Tristan, and this is my story.

I was 14 years old, living in the District 9, I had short dark hair, deep green eyes, and short stubby soul patch.

It was the day before the reaping of the 149th Hunger Games, and our district was full of its usual cynicism towards the hellish monstrosities of the Hunger Games.

Our family had enough wealth to support ourselves, so I only had to register for the default number of entries, so I wasn't too worried about getting picked myself.

I only talked to one other person in the entire district, as most other people viewed me as either weird, or unnatural.

It didn't phase me, however, as I viewed the world as a terrible and sinister land, full of hopeless people facing complete and utter despair.

I walked, as the heavy rain pelted against my coat, I had one thing on my mind, and I wasn't going to stop until I was at rest.

People stood from in their houses, glaring at me as I walked, the hood of my coat concealing the majority of my face regardless.

I just ignored them, their futile existences, that served only to plague my own, only fueled my desire to protect the only human being that mattered to me.

After the walk, I eventually found myself stood outside the beaten up shack that was home to my friend.

I knocked on the door, which swung open on it's own when I did so.

"Hello?" I muttered quietly as I walked into the torn up place.

I looked down to the floor, to see my pretty, pink haired friend laying, in agony, tears running down her face.

"Madoka.." I whispered, as I reached my hand out to try and help her up.

She shook her head and laid there shaking, and still crying.

"Are you scared?" I asked after a short pause.

She nodded, and sat up slowly, "I'm not scared for myself" She began, "I'm scared for whoever gets sent in."

I nodded, and sat by her, "I know you're scared for them.. And I feel bad too, but there isn't much we can do for them, and I want to keep you safe, above all."

She sighed, and looked to me, "But imagine how it must feel to go through that."

I looked to her, "I mean.. It probably is damn near the worst possible human emotion. The feeling that you'd get if your name got called."

We sat there in silence, for a couple of minutes, before finally, she reached out, and embraced me to her.

"Thank you, Tristan." She whispered into my ear.

"Your welcome, Madoka." I whispered back.

The next day, I walked next to Madoka, as we slowly approached the reaping.

"You'll be fine." I whispered to her, as we walked up to the desk to sign in.

So they pricked my finger, and took a drip of blood. I don't like having blood drawn from me, so it was quite unpleasant.

So Madoka and I had to separate, she went over with the other 14 year old girls, and I went off with the other 14 year old boys.

Everybody was kinda uneasy, and kinda terrified, so it was just like school, if school wasn't terrible.

I watched as some lady, who was probably older then district 9 itself, walked up onto the stage.

She began telling us about the history of the hunger games, and stuff along the lines of that.

I wasn't really paying attention, until she was ready to announce the tributes.

"Let's start with the ladies." The ancient lady said as she walked over to a large glass bowl, filled with slips of paper.

So after what felt like 3 hours of the lady waving her hand around, she finally snatched a slip of paper from the bowl.

"Madoka Kaname." The lady clearly spoke into the microphone.

I felt a wave of terror pass over me, I had been so confident that I wouldn't get picked, that I had forgotten the ridiculous number of entries Madoka had taken in order to stay alive.

I watched as the one person I cared about in life, walked to her imminent demise.

"And now for the boy's" The lady said after Madoka got on-stage.

"I volunteer!" I lashed out in fury, as I rushed onto the stage, to comfort Madoka.

I had flipped my coat hood up, and concealed the vast majority of my face, in an attempt to remain unrecognized.

"And what would your name be?" The lady asked.

After a pause I finally began to mutter, "Tristan. M-my name is Tristan."