Okay guys, this story is a partial SYOT because it will be told entirely from my tribute's POV, so your tribute won't get a reaping unless he's watching it. Here's the first chapter, and the submission form will be on my profile.

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WARNING - The following story contains descriptions of mental illness/multiple personality disorder. If that bothers you, I advise you not to read this story.

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Facts of my life:

Sometimes I feel powerless. Sometimes I want to die. Other times I am angry - no, not just angry. Indescribably furious. It's just an outburst of raw pain, to be honest. Sometimes I feel these things. But I am always thinking. I am always fighting. Fighting him.

I have known he was there since I was eight. I am pretty sure he was always there, but I obviously did not notice. Then, though, I think the awful reality of my life right then brought him out. The real screams blotted out by the symphony he created, every one of them at the same time played on repeat in my mind.

Seven years on, I'm still not over that awful music.

I am certain he is not me. It's just that we share a body. No - 'share' isn't the right word. 'Endlessly wrestle over control of' is more accurate.

People used to try to help. Keyword 'tried'. They can't fight him. One of the things they often say is 'it's all in your head'.

To this I agree. It is.

However, they, the misguided, self appointed 'Good Samaritans' seem to think this means it's imaginary.

Just because something is in your head doesn't mean it's not real.

You can see him sitting there in the corner. I know it's sort of abstract to look at the inside of your mind, but for the sake of your convenience, we'll imagine it as a fairly large control room. Got it? Great. We'll continue.

He has dark brown hair with unnerving red streaks. I don't mean ginger - actually red. His eyes are a dark brown too, but if he's mad, or in control, or well, talking to me, they glow red - and his skin is like copper. He's tall and wears dark clothes.

When I first realised he was there, he grinned evilly and told me his name was Mordekai. I used to call him Kai for short. He did not like this, and you don't want to offend him, believe me.

I soon stopped.

From the corner, now, Mordekai calls to me in his dry, drawling voice. "Ainsley. What's your problem?"

Stay calm. Stay calm. If you get mad he will take over.

I stay calm.

I am Ainsley Ryder, by the way. I am the opposite of Mordekai, but also the same. Dark brown hair. Green-blue eyes. Copper skin. Average height. Light clothes. I'm sure you can see the parallels. And the differences.

I can keep Mordekai from taking over. But sometimes I can't. There's a limit.

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"Ainsley! How long are you gonna take?!" my brother Jayden says irritatedly.

I scowl. "As long as I need to, Jayden. Quit."

One of the reasons nobody ever seems to have noticed Mordekai's presence is the fact that I am one of five kids. The oldest, but I didn't use to be. Jayden is thirteen and a real pain besides. At least I get along with my little sisters, Felicia and Frieda, who are eleven-year-old twins. The baby of the family is December, nicknamed Dessie, who is only eight. She does not remember what the rest of us do. Truth be told, neither do Frieda or Felicia reslly. Just me, Jayden and our mother. The only ones who remember we had an older brother. And a father.

I quickly pull on my reaping outfit - gray trousers, battered brown leather shoes and a white shirt - and stride outside where Jayden is standing.

"Really?" Mordekai asks, indicating my outfit.

Calm. Keeping calm is something I find difficult. But it's vital.

Jayden wears a white shirt and dark blue trousers. We have good reaping clothes this year - we're no longer as bad off as... before.

Felicia, Frieda and Dessie are in normal clothes, however. We are not so rich we can afford clothes for them, as they can't be reaped anyway.

Our mother appears behind them, aged beyond her years by the ordeal we all suffered together. We walk to the reaping in silence.

When we arrive, Jayden and I look at each other, and shake hands. As if it's a competition. Which it is, sort of. The competition is to not get picked to die. Or rather, get picked to go into another competition that the inhabitants of District Nine cannot win. It's cruel - no, in fact saying it's 'cruel' is the understatement of the century - and I will never cease to hate the Capitol, the ones who did this to us, until I take my last breath.

We split up and I walk swiftly into the roped off area with the other fifteen-year-old boys. Head down, blanking them, avoiding confrontation. Mordekai's sinister words guide me. Thing is, he isn't always wrong about those kind of things... without friends, there are fewer people who can turn on you.

I eventually raise my eyes to the stage when I hear the awful screeching of the District 9 escort. In my opinion, she looks the stupidest out of all of them. Sickly pink hair contrasting eye-wateringly with her dyed mint green skin. She's even got surgery to turn her eyes the same shade of unnatural pink. Me and Mordekai are for once in agreement. She disgusts us in every way possible - her job, her looks, her luck to be born a Capitolite and not in the districts. I can tell it shows in my eyes, and it certainly does in Mordekai's.

"Welcome one, welcome all to the 67th reaping in District 9! Isn't this exciting!?" the obnoxious woman squeals.

To my district's credit, every one of them is silent.

The escort decides to cut to the chase. "Ladies first!"

She reaches out a manicured hand (orange nails. I swear this woman is purposely trying to be hideous) and claws at the heap of neatly folded paper. Maybe they visually only hold names, but I know they are really death certificates, just waiting to be signed.

Finally the woman extracts a slip. She unfolds it slowly, nearly delicately. She opens her mouth to read.

"Seren Valencia."

I see a tall black girl who looks to be around thirteen freeze suddenly. The escort repeats her name and she is back to reality, trying to hide how doomed she knows she is.

"Bloodbath." Mordekai remarks casually, leaning on the wall.

I say nothing. Not outwardly, nor inwardly.

Pink and green escort then repeats her process, so similarly to what she just did, I almost laugh. Almost.

She opens the slip once again.

"Ainsley Ryder."

On second thoughts, it's not even the tiniest bit funny.

Remember what I said about hating the Capitol to my last breath? Now I realise that could be sooner than I anticipated.

I look Jayden in the eye as I walk up to the stage sadly. Sorry.

I am in the Hunger Games.

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So, do we have any opinions on that first chapter? Do you think Mordekai is real or if Ainsley is imagining him? How do you think Ainsley will do in the Games?

This is a partial SYOT and is first come first served, as I don't want to be dealing with too many characters, so there are ten spaces to be filled with actual proper characters. They can be from any district except obviously District 9. Seren is not very important to the story, I just made her for convenience so I didn't need to wait for a D9 Female. Please do send me in a few Careers too! To keep the tributes a secret please PM them to me. I'll also do reservations which will last for four days. I know this is strict but the form isn't super long so it shouldn't take forever to fill out. Characters will be located at the bottom of my profile. It would be useful to me if people maybe thought up basic descriptions of the minor characters - if you do this please use the review section. Also, I have not yet decided who will win the Games. It might be Ainsley. It might not. But since he is our narrator he will survive the bloodbath at least.

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MAJOR CHARACTER FORM

Name: (middle name in brackets)

Age: 12-18

Gender:

District:

Appearance:

Personality:

Backstory:

Strengths:

Weaknesses:

Token: Optional

Reaped or Volunteered?:

Reaction/Reason: (I want a good reason for volunteers from the outer districts. No 'oh my best friend got reaped! I have to volunteer for them - even though they would probably do better than me - but I just want reader sympathy!')

Chariot Outfit:

Interview Outfit:

Weapon of Choice:

What do they do in training?:

Training Score:

Games Strategy:

Opinion of Ainsley:

Allies?:

Why are they important to Ainsley's story?: (Enemy, ally, unexpectedly helps him, accidentally sets him off switching between his two personalities... be creative!)

Open to romance?:

Preferred Death and Placement:

What music should I listen to while writing them?:

Anything else?:

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MINOR CHARACTER FORM

Name: (though I probably won't use it so it's okay to put N/A)

Age:

District:

Gender:

Appearance: (not too detailed)

General Attitude:

Anything else?:

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Thank you for your time! I would find it really very helpful for you readers to give me some CONSTRUCTIVE criticism on this chapter and suggest how I can improve. Have a nice morning, afternoon, evening or night.

Edit - Submission form added to profile as suggested by Professor R.J Lupin1.