Hello lovely readers!

This was kind of a random plot idea that came to me when I was rereading the first book of the Hunger Games Trilogy. Some of you might remember how in the first book it is mentioned that in the entire history of the games ere has only ever been two winners from district twelve. I had been thinking about how there was only one winner to help Katness and Peeta and I realized that throughout the entire series not one thing is mentioned about the other.

From that thought pattern this plot bunny was formed.

Hopefully you all enjoy and I look forward to hearing what you all think about it:)

Disclaimer:

I don't own Hunger Games.

Broken Rose

My name is Rose and I am the first ever District Twelve tribute to win the Hunger Games.

I was lauded by those in my district as a hero. The brave twelve year old girl who killed all the other tributes. I brought my district and my family honour. I became rich and was given the world on a platter.

But I am not the hero they made me out to be. I didn't heroically fight the other tributes to the death spitting death in the face.

I nearly died because I was weak and the male tribute from District Twelve did die because I was weak.

Who cares about the other tribute some of you might ask. I did. How could I not care about my older brother?

What are the odds that two siblings would be chosen? A twelve year old girl who was known for being a easy target and the eighteen year old boy who cared for his five siblings as if they were his kids after the death of their parents.

We were thrown into the arena with zero help. I knew nothing about how to fight and protect myself short of using a short dagger. My brother fought for our safety with everything he was. And he died.

When I watched the light fade from his eyes I forgot to fear because I didn't care if I died anymore.

I was worthless. My brother died for me and I'd be dammed if they didn't die for killing him.

So I hid. When they slept I slit the throats of those who traveled alone before picking off the others like flys by poisoning their food and water. I led them into traps and stood there coldly while they pleaded for help until they finally died.

I killed everyone that stood in my way and when the final fight came I used his emotions against him and then I killed him to.

I am a coward. Less then a year after the end of the games and I still cannot see the light. All the praise and flattery I receive from those around me and the ones that once taunted me before I won those cursed games falls on deaf ears.

They claimed that I Survived the games but that isn't true. I died on the inside the day my brother did. What they all see is nothing but a husk.

But it's become to much. The praise. The glory. The knowledge that my brother died for me. The blood of all those teens that is on my head. The memories. The nightmares.

And now the day has come I've finally broken.

And as I stand on the balcony of the house in front of the stage that they are doing the opening ceremony for this years hunger games on I know that I am still a coward. But I no longer care. My family has the money my brother gave his life for and I have nothing left to live for.

My name is called and I see the crowd and the lady who reads the names standing there yelling my name in horror. I look down on the people emotionlessly.

My white dress blows around my legs as my bare toes curl over the ledge of the balcony and I laugh softly at the irony. The colour of purity and I am going to die in it.

I hear the door to the room burst open and the Peacekeepers freeze in the doorway. I turn to face them and the camera that is rolling live to presidant Snow and all his foolish people and I smile.

A twisted empty smile that makes the camera man pale. I smile and say one word before letting myself fall backwards off the balcony.

"Goodbye."

There are screams and I close my eyes as I free fall through the air. This is my one act of rebellion against those who have sentenced us to this hell.

I am not I fighter. I am a coward. But even a coward can do one thing in their life that spits in the face of those who hurt them.

This is my rebellion. Because no matter how hard they try to cover this up no one will ever forget the girl who won the Hunger Games and killed herself on the games anniversary.

No one will forget the girl in white who lay broken and dead in a pool of scarlet red.

The broken girl who is finally free

So what did you think? Reviews are welcome! Flames shall be laughed at, posted for others to laugh at, and ignored.