Disclaimer: I do not own the Phantom of the Opera or Hunger Games. They belong to their respective owners. I only own some of the unrecognizable characters and some plot ideas.

A/N: Hi everyone! This is one of my newest creations and it came to me when I went to see Hunger Games in theaters for the first time. (That was a while ago!) The idea of Peeta being in love with Katniss and the path that they were destined to meet on, made my imagination soar. I changed up the story a bit, added a little or changed a little to make it more of my story and not a complete rip-off to Susanne Collins. First of all, Erik and Christine's relationship will be like Katniss and Gale in the beginning and as events transpire, it will become more like Peeta and Katniss's relationship. One of the main changes I made which you will discover in this first chapter is the age range. I was disturbed by the 12-17 age span, a little 12 year old girl would have no chance against a 17 year old boy. So I changed it to 16-23. I know that is a bigger age group, but it made sense for my characters and made it seem less child death camp. So in this chapter (there will be flashbacks and memories) Christine is 17 and Erik is 23. As the story goes along, you will catch up on what their relationship was like before and what changed it, but if you have questions, don't hesitate to ask in your review or in a PM. I answer everyone! This chapter will be in Erik's POV. Now you may read and I hope you enjoy and review!

Fight to the Death

Chapter 1: My Last Reaping

xXx Erik

I buttoned up my pale blue shirt, the dressiest one I had, as I looked in the dusty, smudged mirror on my bedroom wall. The pants I donned were black, the only pair I had that weren't jeans or didn't have holes in them. The hard part now would be to getting to the District's Center without getting dirt on them. The shirt had hung up in front of the window overnight to keep from wrinkling and the shoes had been cleaned and shined last night when I couldn't find sleep. Now all that had to be done was wait for the bell to ring signaling for all the people from ages 16 to 23 to head to the District's Center for The Reaping.

My last Reaping.

I didn't care about it being my last Reaping. All I cared about was the fact that Christine still had five more after this one. Everyone celebrated with their family and friends when they got past their last Reaping, rejoicing in their relief and freedom from anxiousness. I wouldn't be doing that, even if I did get past this one without getting my name called I would have nothing to celebrate, Christine would still have to go through it and possibly get chosen to fight.

Ever since she had sung her way into my life, I cared about her overall. She'd only been ten when we met, so of course I didn't have the intense love feelings for her that I now have. I had the protector, companionable feelings. But through the years she grew and changed and became someone else completely. She no longer had the baby face, flat chest, and before puberty attitude. She became a beauty, full of luscious curves and soft skin.

Those changes in her body were only the beginning.

But everything else hit an uncontrollable discovery when she started swooning and fawning over another guy. Raoul. The jealousy had started to boil and with each conversation that turned towards him made the boiling level go higher. After nine months of the torture and pain of holding it in, I exploded.

I still don't remember exactly what I said in my jealousy, but it had scared and angered Christine so much that she hadn't talked to me in almost a year. One year of not talking to her or touching her was driving me crazy. I still cared deeply and loved her, which were the only reasons I watched her. I would watch her walk home from school, walk to and from the health clinic her mother worked at and even just taking a leisurely walk with her journal or a book that she liked.

The sound of a bell rang around the whole district, a sound that was only heard once a year, associated with fear.

Looking in the mirror, seeing the clean, crisp clothes and smooth hair, it was the best I could present with a face as disastrous as mine. The scar looked like a shattered piece of glass; each crease connecting in the middle. The horse's hoof had kicked right under my eye causing my cheekbone to shatter and create the web of marks. Christine had never seen me without the imperfection and yet she had welcomed me without disgust.

Not allowing my thoughts to drift, I headed over to the ladder leading down to the horses' stables.

This is where I lived, on the loft above the horses with piles of hay and bags of horse food. Ever since my parents died, just before Christine came into my life, I have been living here. I had no other family living, so I had to give up my family's home in order to keep my name from going into the Reaping more times.

Just before stepping out the barn doors I turned to face Blue, my favorite horse. He was standing in his stall and when he looked up to see me looking at him, he came closer and rubbed his nose against my hand. He knew I needed some comfort and in his wise eyes it looked like he knew what today was and knew my fate. If only he could speak to me and let me know what would happen.

"Hopefully I'll see you later, Blue. We'll go for a run." I said in a soft voice, resulting in getting an abrupt knicker and head bob.

I opened the large wooden door and headed across the grass and jumped over the short fence that keeps the animals contained.

As I walked down the street, heading towards the District's Center, I watched other people, my age and younger, walking down the streets slowly. Parents were hugging their kids and holding on tight, hoping they would return. Friends walked together holding hands. Loners, like myself, walked alone dragging our feet and keeping our hands to our sides or nervously picking our nails.

I saw Christine's house to my right and saw her mother, still wearing her nursing outfit, standing on the porch trying to get an unseen figure to leave the house.

"Christine, you have to go." Heather exclaimed through her tears.

I couldn't hear or see Christine, but I could tell that she was afraid to go. She didn't want to go through the service. The memory of the night before the Reaping last year rang through my mind.

I just got the horses into their stalls with their food and water and blankets on their backs when the barn door squeaked open.

Christine's head popped through and her eyes automatically found mine.

I could see the moon behind her making her hair glow beautifully. She looked breathtaking in her pajamas. I wanted to go to her and wrap her in my arms and take her mouth with mine. I wanted to do sinful things to her.

"Hi, can we talk?" she asked in that tiny voice that reminded me of when we met.

"Yeah, but you can't be out after curfew. You know what will happen if you are seen on the streets after eight."

"That's never stopped me before. Plus curfew has never mattered to you before, why now?"

"The Reaping is tomorrow, the officers are doubled in case of runaways or…"

"Okay, I don't really need to be reminded that The Reaping is tomorrow. I'm already freaked out about it as it is." Her voice was shaking now and I understood why she had come to me now.

"Hey, it's going to be okay." I said walking over to her briskly and pulling her into my arms. "You're name is only in there once. There are some people with their name in their more than ten times. You have the most unlikely chances of getting chosen. You will be fine."

I could feel her arms wrap around my waist and her face press against my neck, breathing in my confidence. She was afraid that she was going to be chosen and leave everyone behind… including me. I always knew what to do when she was scared or hurt, make her laugh.

I held her away from my body so she could see my smile and the amusement in my eyes. "Hey, and if you do get chosen I will make sure to follow you and keep you safe. I will be your personal bodyguard." I said with a smile.

She gave a small breathless laugh before saying, "You always know how to make me feel better."

"That's what I'm here for." I said, taking her back in my arms and holding her.

I don't know how long we stood there in each other's arms, but I remember waking up the next morning with her snuggled into my side. She had stayed with me that night, the first time in our friendship, and I watched as she breathed evenly and her eyelashes fluttered against her cheeks as she dreamed.

I hadn't noticed that I stopped right in front of her house until her mother finally got Christine to come out and they both looked down the small steps to see me looking at them. Christine's eyes widened in surprise at seeing me. This was the closest we have gotten in a year and I didn't know how to react. Before she could say anything or my staring could become awkward, I turned and kept walking down the street towards the District's Center.

I had been watching her everyday making sure she was okay, but being that close to her and having her look into my eyes made my heart stop. Her eyes were a grayish blue, the color of rain, against her pale complexion and brown curly hair that reached down to her waist. She had chosen a white dress with three-quarter length sleeves and a skirt that reached to her knees. The neckline was low enough to show the shadow of cleavage, but high enough to still be modest.

When I reached the registration I allowed the gloved, masked, Capitol worker to prick my finger and press my blood to the paper in between columns and register my name into the system. I had done it five times already so I knew what to expect. After passing that stage I walked through the other men until the officers guided me to where I would stand and await my fate, live or fight.

As the minutes past by more and more men gathered around me, organized by age, making me stand near the back with the rest of the men my age. But when the large screen brightened and started showing pictures of past tributes from our district, I looked up to see the faces of men and women that had lost their lives too young. The picture of my father that had sat on the mantel in my old home stood out on the screen, followed by a video of him in the arena that he had been thrown into. Twenty years ago he had been chosen to fight, I had only been three, so I don't remember him. The video they chose to display of him was the fight for his life, fighting against a man his age, but twice his size, a District One or Two tribute. My father was getting choked and held down in the sand and dirt, his face turning blue from lack of oxygen, until his eyes fell back in his head and the breath was lost to him.

I fumed on the inside, hating the Capitol more for doing that to him and hating the fact that they took him from me. My mother had been so heartbroken that she stopped eating, stopped sleeping and finally just never left her bed. Growing up, having to take care of myself at such a young age was hard, but when she died of a broken heart everything became harder.

"Welcome! Happy Hunger Games… and may the odds be ever in your favor."

The way the Capitol Lecturer announced this "holiday" most likely made everyone in the Capitol watching squeal with excitement, while it just made all of us cringe in hate and fear.

I didn't care to listen to all the gibberish of the courage and willingness to sacrifice our lives for a better one. It was the same speech every year. I could practically recite it and mouth her words one step before her.

"Now the moment we have all been waiting for, the naming of the tributes of the 47th Annual Hunger Games. Ladies First." She said before heading over to the large glass bowl with different names written on each piece of paper, some names the same, others different.

She grabbed a slip of paper from deep inside the pile and walked back to the microphone to announce the poor girl's name. With a clear of her throat and a rip of paper as she opened it, she read the name of the girl I cared about most.

"Christine Daube."

My whole world slowed down. Everyone froze in place and my heart slowed down for the second time that morning. The uniformed officers found Christine in the group of seventeen year old girls and guided her shaking form up to the stage. The look on her face would haunt me for a lifetime. From so far away I could see her eyes wet with tears and her mouth open in speechless fear. Her pale complexion was worse now, almost ghostly from what was happening.

As she stood on the stage, the name "Thomas Barnes" rang out like a wake-up call and everything started moving into normal pace. I looked towards the Lecturer, a woman with a cloud of white hair on her head and a strange purple dress, to see she was reading off the boy's name.

A young, scrawny sixteen year old boy was being dragged towards the stage as shaken as Christine. I noticed him as one of the new staff for the stalls. I had started him off on shoveling the horse manure, the chore given to every beginner; he was a weakling and didn't have the power to stand the stench. He would be dead within minutes of going into the arena. But the boy's safety mattered not at all. I only cared about who would protect my dearest Christine.

Then the promise I had jokingly given to her a year ago rang in my mind. 'If you do get chosen I will make sure to follow you and keep you safe. I will be your personal bodyguard.' That was the only answer I had.

My feet moved with their own accord until I stood in the middle aisle looking up at the stage where Christine stood.

"I volunteer!" I yelled, watching as everyone's eyes turned to look straight at me, including Christine's.

xXx

I know this was a short chapter, but think of it as a prologue! I hope you enjoyed that taste of this new story and please favorite, follow and review for more updates!