Growing up in District 2 was easy enough.

I got everything I wanted when I wanted it. I was a king, even though no one in my family since my great-grandfather had entered the games. My older brothers were never great enough.

But I was.

I don't know why I was the lucky one in our family. Maybe it was because I was the youngest and fought with my brothers all the time over everything. Maybe it was because I felt like my anger was a flowing river of lava, just waiting to erupt at any given second. Maybe it was just my turn to bring pride back to my family.

I got put into the academy at the age of five. By the age of six, I was numb enough to kill game with a bow and arrow. By ten, I found that my weapon of choice was a sword. By twelve, I used my first real-sized sword. There was no question about it; when I finally turned eighteen, I was going to the Hunger Games, and I was going to win.

Being as good as I was at killing, I was popular while growing up and going through the academy. I had a girlfriend for a while when I was thirteen, but I found that my temper was too great for any one girl to handle. So I just fucked the strongest girls in all the classes instead. They could handle my rage. They met my pounding hips with their own. They scratched my back and got my blood under their fingernails. I bit their lips and sucked and sucked until pretty purple bruises would blossom on their necks and chests and hips.

Thank God Clove and I were cousins. I didn't think I'd be able to handle any other girl going into the Games with me. They'd expect too much. They'd be weak with the desire that I would protect them. Clove was just as ruthless as I was. She wanted blood on her hands as badly as I did.

Specifically the girl from 12's blood.

As soon as I saw her in her chariot with that big fucking loser, on fire and smiling, I knew she'd be trouble. It seemed like 12 was finally ready to fight back after years of producing scrawny, easy targets. This was a fight I was ready for.

What I didn't anticipate was the tightness in my pants and the dryness of my mouth and my eyes following her throughout the training center. She wasn't ruthless like Clove and I, but she was robotic, calculating, assessing all the time. She tied snares with quick nimble fingers. She picked out poisonous plants from the safe ones with ease. She was lithe and strong and had the endurance of any career I'd ever seen at the Games.

She was utterly beautiful and dangerous, and I fucking hated her for it. It made me want to make her suffer. I wanted to pound into her until she cried and then slit her throat afterwards and watch her blood drain, watch the life dim in her steely eyes.

Glimmer from 1 was a nice little distraction from the girl on fire. She was beautiful and hard and flexible. We didn't get much time alone together, but when we did, it was explosive. I took out my rage against 12 on her and she met me just as hard. She reluctantly told me that her boyfriend had been in the Games last year and was killed by starving.

"He was weak," I growled at her.

"I know," she whispered back, avoiding my eyes and crossing her arms over her bare chest before getting dressed and returning to her bow and arrow.

The second day of training was much of the same. I took out my anger in the morning by decapitating a bunch of the dummies set up around the arena. And then I watched her. Her eyes would meet mine every once in a while. Her eyes would narrow, and her lips would purse, and then she would continue doing whatever she was doing.

After lunch I decided to approach her. She was sitting alone, because the boy from 12 had just left to learn all about climbing trees.

"Hello, 12," I greeted as I sat down beside her.

She glared at me before answering icily, "Hello."

"You know, I've been watched you the past two days, and I gotta say, I'm impressed," I told her in an arrogant tone. "You're much better than the previous tributes from 12. Better than your friend over there, too." I nodded towards the boy.

Her lips made a thin line on her face. I could practically feel her temper. I grinned a little at the thought.

I leaned in closer to her. "Why don't you join up with us and we can get rid of all the wastes of skin and then have a real fight to the death with no distractions."

"Never," she whispered before standing up and going to the corner of the arena that no one bothered with, fire making.

She quickly began collecting everything she needed and within ten minutes, she had a small fire going.

I followed her over there, seeing that no one was paying attention to us.

She was crouching against the wall, studying the foliage to help get the fire going.

"I haven't seen you use any weapons," I said, standing right in front of her.

Her eyes lifted from the leaves in her hand, her eyes tight with anger and confusion.

"I can't use any weapons," she replied defiantly.

I chuckled. "I refuse to believe that. An angry thing like you takes out their rage somehow. You're too composed to not know how to kill something."

Her lips made that thin line again. I crouched in front of her and rubbed my thumb across them, making her gasp.

"Don't touch me," she warned, her fists clenching.

I grinned. "Make me."

Her back was straight against the wall as she eased herself away from me. I got right in her personal space, breathing in her breath. I leaned into her ear and said, "Why don't we find a quiet corner and I can show you how I take away some of my rage?" I bit her earlobe and she shuddered, her breasts brushing against my chest. My cock hardened even more than it had been before.

"Go to hell," she whispered in my ear before pushing me and making me fall on my ass. She sprinted away and back towards the other 22 tributes.

"Fuck," I growled, looking at my hardened cock. I went and grabbed Glimmer and took her into the men's bathroom and took her from behind, leaving pretty purple flowers all over her body, and this time, they weren't just from my mouth.

Then the bitch on fire got an 11, and my rage intensified, right along with my lust and desire for her. When Clove and I saw her number, both of us tensed, and Clove snapped. She broke a bottle and threw the shards against the wall, lodging it in the wallpaper.

Brutus' jaw clenched and unclenched as he tried to contain his rage, and Enobaria hissed through her hideous pointed teeth.

"Well," Brutus finally said, "we know who to target first then." He nodded and went to grab a drink from the bar while Enorbia paced back and forth. The Avox cleaned up Clove's mess while she continued to seethe about the "little District 12 bitch."

"Forget about it, Clove," I told her calmly, my rage simmering to a dull boil. "We can slice her into a million pieces at the Cornucopia on the first day. She won't be smart enough to run, they never are."

"I'm going to scalp the bitch," Clove declared menacingly. "And I'm going to make her little friend watch."

The next day was easy on us. Being from a district that actually took pride in the being a part of the Games provided us with not only training on how to kill a human being in a million different ways, but they also taught us how to speak publically and proper posture for television. What to say and when to say it and how to say it.

Glimmer pulled off the flirty assassin bit, and her fellow tribute, Marvel, did the same. Clove was menacing, almost teetering on the edge of crazy, and I was intense. I told Caesar about the many weapons I could use and how I would use them to my advantage. I hoped 12 was shaking in her high heels.

I stuck around to watch the other interviews. The boy from 11 looked like he could tear any of us apart with his bare hands. But he wouldn't. He didn't have the same numbness about him. Sure, he was angry to be here, but he wasn't angry enough. He would be on defense before offense, and I would gut him before he could even take a swing.

Then the girl on fire got up on stage. Katniss Everdeen. The girl that volunteered for her younger sister. She looked beautiful, but acted stupid. We all knew better. We knew she was lithe, and she looked strong enough to actually pull through the first day. She spun around in her dress and my lust choked out my rage for a minute. Why did she have to be from 12? Why did she have to be here? All I could think about was shredding that dress made of flames and consuming her in my own forest fire.

My breathing came in pants as I continued to watch her. Caesar brought up her sister, and then I saw the fire in her eyes. Her sister was her fire, the reason why she would try as hard as she could to outlast and outplay.

She went and sat on the sidelines, waiting for the boy from 12 to finish his interview. Their united front was the first I'd ever heard of, and it was disconcerting. I didn't know what they were playing at with that angle.

Then I found out that the boy, Peeta Mellark, was in love with Katniss Everdeen.

My rage turned into a rolling boil, and I punched the wall beside me. That little fucker was in love with her? Surely she wasn't in love with him. The camera swung towards her, and her surprise wasn't deceitful. She didn't love him.

But I still felt like ripping him limb from limb.

I could lie and say it was because they would get more sponsor attention this way, but I knew it was my possessiveness. I hadn't had Katniss Everdeen yet, and neither should he. I was better than he was.

Peeta Mellark became my number one target. I wanted to kill him quickly, but I wanted to make him suffer. And I wanted her to watch while I did it, too.

"I'm going after the boy from 12," I told Brutus on the way up to our room.

"No, you're not," he replied just as calmly. "You're going after the girl from 12, and you're going to use lover boy to do it."

I took a deep breath, accepting the strategy Brutus put forth. It's not like I could find Katniss on my own and fuck her and then gut her. The gamemaker's didn't let the tributes have sex during the games. They killed you if you did.

It was time to douse the girl on fire, and forget about any desires I had for her.