A/N: So, this is my Hunger Games Fic, and it's centered around my dear Kinley. HOWEVER, if you'd like I would be more than happy to include one of your own characters as a background character. If you'd like to submit someone to be her ally, enemy, or whatever, go to my profile and fill out the form at the bottom of the page. And viola! You will be in the story. There is only one rule: do not be a Mary Sue. I'll leave you all at that! Enjoy!


Come away little lamb, come away to the slaughter…

Steeler Manos stands on the stage, taunting us by twiring the selected female card around over his of us, right here and now, share the same exact thoughts: Who's being sacrificed this year? Which one of our friends will we watch die this year in the Games? Or could it possibly even be myself? All of us exchange knowing looks, yet not a single soul dares to even murmur over the sense of paranoia cast over the crowd.

Panic begins to set in and tears sting the corners of my eyes. The girl next to me, I think her name is Winnie, squeezes my hand tighter and the strip of paper is unfolded. Winnie and I catch each other's eyes, give a comforting nod, then stare back up at Steeler. I feel my entire body begin to shake with anxiety; my grip on Winnie gets tighter and tighter.

"And District Eight's newest female tribute is…," he waits about ten seconds before saying the name. The moment it's spoken, all of the girls sigh in relief, except for me. No, it's not true. It can't be. Frantically, I look up at Winnie, who is staring at me with wild eyes. God, don't let it be true! The shaking intensifies. "Kinley? Kinley Bolden? Where are you?"

Then the realization hits me. Emotions begin to overwhelm my mind. Terror, horror, disgust, nausea, grief, vulnerability, loneliness, and dread all mixed into one impossible to imagine sense of fear. I'm the tribute. I gag slightly, careful enough to I try to make my way toward the stage, but suddenly everything's gotten strange. My feet feel heavy, my head abnormally light, and my stomach turning every which way. My vision's blurred through tears and confusion until all I see is darkness. Then something hitting my head.

—-

I gasp for air as I force myself to continue on through the woodland's shadows with as much poise and speed as I can muster. My lungs are pounding into my sides. My chest feels as if kerosene has ignited inside of it. My legs ache and cramp up from the hours of endless sprinting, and my feet… that has to be the worst part. Shoeless, the broken twigs, rocks, and various items have dug their way inside of the skin, so that as I run on, they tear farther and farther inside of my flesh. I want to scream, I want to stop and just rest for a moment. But even just a moment's hesitation will guarantee that I won't make it to see nightfall. She's in hot pursuit after me. That girl. Her knife's still dripping out the blood from my own ally, that kind boy I met in training… A tear falls down my face at the thought of his body. Blood exploding from his neck, and the blank expression left on his face— No. I can't think of him. It's not the time. I have to keep running. Remembering him won't ensure my fate doesn't end the same, after all. Think of something else… anything else.

I could take her, if I had my hands on that bow. Or even her knives. Anything. I could scamper up a tree and aim the arrow straight at her heart. Surely it would find its way to its destination… Wait, why am I even considering that? What's happening to me. I said I wouldn't kill, and I won't… A grunt escapes my lips as a piece of glass dices through my foot. I just can't do it any longer. I can't avoid her forever and at this rate, I'll die from exhaustion. I feel my pace slow down very little, and just because of that tiny error, that tiny little detail, everything crashes down. A flash of metal whizzes by my ear, missing it by no more than a mere inch. I panic; my feet begin to stop functioning. My breathing is offbeat and I choke on air. My legs have stopped working all together and I end up collapsing to the ground. As divine as it would be to give up right now, I can't. Not here. It wasn't safe enough, and Xan- Xander… He's watching me on our TV right now. I told him I wouldn't die pointlessly. I have to get out of this. There's a tree only about ten feet away that I could climb. It could buy me some time while the girl tries to follow. If I can just… just make it over there…

I pull myself desperately towards the tree. Beads of sweat rest roll down my cheeks. I'm not tired. HA! I'm not tired… I still can do this. My hands stretch up to the first branch and just as I had a good grip on it. A glint caught the corner of my eye… then my hand. Blood spewed everywhere as the knife cut through the flesh and bone and into the tree's bark. That's when I lost it. My terrified scream echoed through the forest, bouncing around the trees, going on and on for a few seconds. This is it… I'm dead… Please just make it quick… The girl dashes in my direction. I begin to countdown for my death to come.

5… 4… 3… 2… 1… 0…

—-

"Stupid girl. Who faints at the reaping?"

Slowly, my vision begins to return. At first, I'm blinded by the sunlight, but it fades into shapes. Then shapes fade into details. The first thing I see is a white face in a white helmet with a blue sky in the background. His arms are beneath my kneecaps and armpits as the figure carries me up to the stage. "Stand up." He whispers in a cold and demanding voice. I obey, though everything is still pretty blurry. Tears are flooding down my face, though I try my best to choke them back. No one's going to save me. I'm all alone and even Xander, my protector, can't do a thing to help me now. I wonder if he's crying too somewhere on the sidelines…

My thoughts cease to an end by the escort's voice, "Sweetie, how old are you?"

I whisper in reply, "Fourteen…" Fourteen as of a month ago, I think. She calls for applause, but I can hear the laughter from the sidelines and I know I've made a huge mistake. Everyone will look at me like dead meat now, and sponsors pretty much out of the picture. Oh god… What did I just do to myself…

"And now, for the boys!" Steeler smiles charmingly up at the cameras, I assume to try and save District 8 from being a complete failure. He picks out a strip from the second bowl and reads out the name much less hesitantly than with the girls. "Alex Blanchard!"

The name sounds a little familiar, but I don't know him personally. I scan over the crowd, trying to find the face. There!

Alex Blanchard was no big, scary opponent by any means, quite the opposite actually. With shaggy, unkept blonde hair and intense, terrified blue eyes, he almost looked average. However, something about him was different. He looked weaker than the others around the district. No, no, that wasn't it... Something about his eyes... They were softer, as if he learned to accept poverty instead of despising it. Something about this boy reassured me.

"People of District Eight, give a hand for your tributes!" Steeler piped out, with a forced smile plastered on his face. Alex and I faced one another, smiled slightly, and shook hands.

Give yourself so we may live anew.