A/N: If you're going to leave a review, I am fully aware that there are a million and a half Hunger Games fanfics out there featuring nothing but OCs, and I've decided to add this one to the fray. I don't care that it's been done before. This is a piece of self-indulgent writing, that I wanted to share, and hopefully receive feedback on.

"You've thrown the worst fear
That can ever be hurled
Fear to bring children
Into the world"

Ella wiped the sweat off her forehead as she stared into the distance. She crossed and uncrossed her legs on the hot tin roof, prepared to leap down the moment someone shouted at her to get down. It had happened plenty of times before, but no one ever seemed to hold it against her. It was pretty common for the kids of District 10 to clamber over the low rooftops at the edge of town, much to the chagrin of their parents. They mostly avoided the roofs during the hotter parts of the year, but the cool breeze made it worthwhile-even when that cool breeze brought the foul odor of cattle with it.

"Hey!" A cheerful shout made Ella look down to see her older cousin, Ruth. Ruth's cheeks were flushed with sun, matching her red hair. "Come down! I wanna talk to you!" She waved an arm over her head.

"Where were you last night?" Ella called back, getting to her feet. She clamped a hand down on her long skirt as the wind teased it; she didn't feel like giving everyone in the district a free show. She made her way to the sloped edge of the roof and allowed herself to drop down to the ground.

"That's what I wanted to talk to you about!" The grin on Ruth's face broadened, if that was even possible. "I was with Tom last night. He-"

"You were supposed to be with us!" Ella snapped, rounding on her cousin. "We were worried about you! We-" She stopped suddenly, tears brightening her dark eyes.

"Oh, right...the TV." Ruth said, rather dreamily. Her house was the only place Ella would have been able to watch the mandatory programming that was on last night, ever since Ella's father had broken the set at their house. "What was on?" Ruth asked, shifting her weight from foot to foot.

Ella stared at Ruth. "What do you think was on? What else would we be forced to watch?"

Recognition slowly dawned on Ruth's face. In a second Ella found herself in her cousin's arms. "Oh, Ellie. You'll be safe. Just two more years of this hell..."

Ella found herself relaxing into the comfort of Ruth's embrace. "They're calling it the Quarter Quell." Her voice shook.

Ruth stroked Ella's long hair. "No, El. It can't be you. It won't be you. They won't pick you."

Ella took a step back from her cousin. "No, they won't be picking anyone." The floodgates broke, and the tears that Ella had been fighting so hard against ran down her cheeks. "You will."

It explained why District 10 had been so quiet today, why Ruth was the only person in the region with a smile on her face. At home, Ruth's mother explained the whole situation through clenched teeth, about the announcement, and how the votes would be cast.

Ella's parents hadn't managed to speak at all.

The countdown to the Quarter Quell had begun.

Everyone wanted a job in the fields. Watching free range cattle was infinitely preferable to working in one of the tanneries or slaughterhouses-or, worst of all, in one of the farms. Endless rows of lowing cows, knee-deep in their own waste, without the space to turn around. The first time Ella had visited her father here, she had to run outside and vomit. This was the beef and milk that most of Panem ate, force-fed growth hormones through tubes. And this was the one job her father could get. There wasn't much work for a one-armed man, especially one that could not seem to silence himself, not even after the districts' revolt had been put down.

Ella had learned her lesson well enough from her first visit to the farm and waited outside the entrance for the workers to get out for the night. The whistle blew, announcing the end of the workday. A long line of women and men shuffled out between the steel doors, each smelling worse than the last. "Papa!" Ella called. "Papa!"

At the end of the day, the workers were barely distinguishable from one another, but a stout man with greasy hair looked up at her. James Gibbons. Papa. Ella sucked in a breath, wishing that she was a little girl again. She would have run up to him and hugged him until he scooped her up in his arm and carried her home on his shoulders. Later, she would be scolded for coming home smelling as bad as her father.

That was a long time ago.

His light blue eyes met her dark brown ones. "What brings you here, Ellie?"

She walked alongside him down the cinder-paved road. There was no way to stay clean in District 10. "News from Ruth. What she was doing a couple nights ago."

James shook his head. "I think I know what she was doing a couple nights ago with Tom."

A pink tint colored Ella's cheeks at the implication. "No, not like that. She finally told us. She and Tom are getting married."

It was nice to know that life still went on, even in the midst of all this fear. No one had mentioned that announcement since it was made, only discussed the simple, ordinary things. Maybe if they didn't talk about it, it wasn't real.

Of course, ignoring the Hunger Games for the last twenty-four years didn't make them go away, and certainly didn't make them any easier to watch.

James only nodded at the news while Ella tried to smile. "When's the wedding?"

"They don't know yet. I hope it's soon," Ella told him. Because if it wasn't, there was the very real possibility that she might never see her cousin, her best friend get married. But she would not let herself think about that.

Try as she might, though, the thought was not far from her mind. After the reaping, when almost everyone in the District breathed a collective sigh of relief, then she would forget. She would watch the images on her screen with distance. They were not people she knew and grew up with. They were characters in the war stories her papa sometimes told when he got too much drink in him. It wasn't real. Just television. Just stories. She had to focus on reality: Ruth's upcoming wedding, the lowing cattle, the schoolwork that she still had to do. Sums of some kind, even though Ella was certain she could recite the times table several times over by now.

"Weddings are such fun," James said mirthlessly. "You'll help Ruth make the arrangements?"

Though she was much too old for it now, Ella found herself wishing she could hold her father's hand as they walked home. "Yeah," she replied, just to keep the conversation going. There were very few arrangements that would actually need to be made-maybe some food, or a small party, and finding Ruth a pretty enough dress.

James only nodded, and they walked back home in silence.

Technically, no one was supposed to be out after nightfall, but like the rooftops, it was a rule that went largely ignored. At least, Ella and Ruth had never paid much attention to it before. Now that Ruth was getting married, it seemed silly to follow it. They didn't know how much time they had left to spend together. Everything was changing.

It was dark as they walked around the grain silos. The girls ducked into the shadows and spoke in whispers, though the worst anyone could do to them was yell at them to go home. Even in the dim moonlight, Ruth's beaming smile glowed.

"I'll be moving into his house, of course, his parents have an extra bedroom ever since Lenny moved out." She chattered away like a bird in a tree. "Just until we save up enough money to buy our own."

Ella let out an audible sigh. "Ruth, I'm happy for you, and I'm gonna let you finish, but can you do me a favor?"

Ruth took Ella's interruption as an opportunity to catch her breath. "What?"

"Can you shut up for a minute?"

Ruth laughed and threw her arms around Ella's shoulders. "All right, El. But only for a minute." She didn't even make it that long. "You will help my momma, won't you? She's going to be in tatters once I leave, I just know it."

Ella found her voice caught in her throat. She wanted to ask when they were going to the Justice Building, but something entirely different came out. "Ruth, who are you voting for?" She cut through the fluff that so readily exuded from her cousin.

"What?" Ruth's smile shrank, her bright eyes clouded over. "Oh, El. Don't ask me that. Maybe I won't vote at all."

"You have to." Ella could feel her legs start to shake. Her knees bent against her will. "Or they'll..." She couldn't finish the sentence. No one had said what consequences they would face for refusing to vote. The citizens' imaginations could fill in the horrors for them, each more grisly than the last.

Ruth turned away sharply. "It doesn't matter. It won't be you. No one knows you."

It was a thought that had never occurred to Ella. She was not exactly well-known in the District, not like some other kids were. She was anonymous, and knew that it would be her safety. "They know my daddy," she said after a minute's contemplation. His past as a rebel was no secret, and he did little to hide his own history. He was actually proud to be on the losing side of the war. Or the wrong side, as she had been told all her life.

"Yeah. Well." Ruth scratched the back of her neck, apparently at a loss for an adequate reply.

"I'm cold." Ella wrapped her arms around herself. "Let's go in."

"Ella!"

Ella opened her eyes slowly. The light streaming in from the lone window in her bedroom told her that it was still early, much earlier than she normally got up. She rolled over on her pallet, hiding her face in the pillow to keep the sunlight out. "Mm." She moaned.

"Ella Gibbons! You get out of bed right now!" Her mother shrieked. "Do you want me to use the water again?"

Ella shook her head and forced herself to sit up. Getting dowsed with cold water was not only a terrible way to wake up, but it left her pallet damp and cold for days after. Her mother, Mora, had only used that particular tactic to get her out of bed once. It was not an experience that Ella cared to repeat. "No, Momma," she managed to groan, her voice still thick with phlegm. She rubbed her eyes, clearing her blurry vision.

Now that she could see her mother clearly, she saw the creases of worry in her forehead. "You are going to be late," Mora warned.

"For what?" Not school, certainly. No one cared if she was late, or if she even showed up. The only reason she still continued with it was at her mother's insistence.

Her mother's reply was to yank Ella off the bed by her arms and hand her a bundle of clothes-simple brown pants and a shirt that had once been white. "Get changed." She disappeared into the next room before Ella could even ask what the urgency was.

Ella slipped into the familiar outfit quickly. Her mother's voice had an edge to it not normally heard, and she did not want to make whatever possible situation they were in any worse. She opened her bedroom door a crack, then shut it at once.

She stumbled back a few feet and tripped over her pallet. She could feel her chest tightening, her heart was pounding...

"Ellie?" Mora opened the door just a crack. The hardness in her voice had vanished, and now she sounded as soft and worn as the hand-me-downs Ella wore.

Ella closed her eyes and caught her breath. "Are they here for-?" She couldn't finish the sentence.

Mora pushed open the door and sat beside Ella. "No. Not for him." She offered a hand for her daughter. "Please, come out. It'll be easier."

Ella squeezed her mother's hand the same way she used to when she heard a scary story. She got to her feet, though her legs threatened to buckle underneath her.

Standing in the kitchen was a Peacekeeper, clad in pristine white. She could see a smile on his face, as though he was trying to be friendly. Ella stopped, unwilling to step forward.

"Good morning, Ella," the Peacekeeper said. Without the uniform, he might have been a perfectly pleasant person, one that she wouldn't have minded sharing a conversation with. "You're running a little late for school, don't you think?"

She almost never went to school on Thursdays, at least, not when there was some kind of work to be had. She didn't say this, but only nodded.

The Peacekeeper waved his hand, gesturing for her to follow. "Come along then, sweetie."

"Wait." Mora took a second to kiss Ella on the forehead, as though that was something she always did when her daughter left the house. "Have a good day."

Ella only nodded again. "See you soon, Momma," she said, and tried to pretend she didn't see the tears in her mother's eyes.

She wasn't the only one being escorted to school by a Peacekeeper, and her house was not the only one that had its doors pounded on. Tired kids walked the sooty streets together, yawning and rubbing their eyes. This was wrong. Even for the ones that actually went to school every day, they were starting much too early.

"Hey, Elle!" Someone called to her. She turned to Kurt at a slight jog, trying to catch up to her. He looked like he had been taken from his bed in the middle of the night; his hair was a mess of tangles and he was still wearing his nightclothes. "What happened?"

He was right-this was something to worry about. People were never rounded up like this spontaneously, unless there was going to be a "demonstration" of some sort. Wyatt's question was not "what happened", but, "Who got caught?"

Ella shook her head. She didn't know any more than he did. She could hear whispers of all the other District kids around her, each having the same conversation: who had done what, what their punishment would be. "Dunno." She could almost feel all the stares that had fallen upon her. They all knew about her daddy, and he was always one of their first suspects when something happened. When anything happened. "No one from my family, though," she said, loud enough for those around to hear her. It was enough to get at least one group of teenage girls to stop giving her those looks of pity. "You don't know either?"

Wyatt only shrugged. "Not us, either."

The pack of kids thinned as they were funneled into the school yard. Wyatt took a quick glance at Ella. The gates snapped shut behind them. The teachers emerged from the building, instead of letting the students come inside. But it wasn't just the students. Adults were milling around on the other side of the gates. Parents. Workers. People who would never be given a day off for no apparent reason.

Ella scanned the crowd, searching for a familiar face. Her parents, Ruth, someone. But if she did spot them...should she be relieved to see that they were safe, or afraid for them?

It wasn't the crowd that made her nervous; it was the locked gates. What were the Peacekeepers going to do to them? Shoot all the kids in here, like they sometimes had to do with the diseased cattle? Why would they do something like that? She tried to reason with her racing mind, and failed to do so.

"Welcome, children." Pale, blond haired Miss Omthar greeted her pupils with a falsely chipper smile on her face. Her falsetto voice would have been sweet if everyone listening to it didn't already know the secret. Her voice always went up an octave higher when she was lying. "We've all been working so hard lately-"

Wyatt let out a small snort of derisive laughter which he managed to turn into a cough when a Peacekeeper's eye fell on him. Ella caught his eye and rolled her own. He was in school maybe once a week. Working hard, sure, but not with books. Not with his momma so ill.

"-That I thought we could move up our annual field day!"

What? Field day? A low murmur broke out through the kids again. They'd already had their field day this year. It was the one day of the school year when everyone tried to come, and certainly the only day when they didn't have to talk about steak flanks. But that had always been something fun, a reprieve from the dreariness that they lived through every day.

"Now," Miss Omthar continued in her soprano tones, "Let's get the roses to one side of the yard and the thorns on the other."

Ella shared another apprehensive look with Wyatt before she headed to the left side of the yard with all the other girls.

"Now, the first event!" Miss Omthar called out, her voice growing higher with each word. She would soon reach a pitch normally reserved for calling dogs. "The 100 meter dash! We'll run it in heats, boys and girls, with a big prize for the winner!" Even without the audience and the Peacekeepers, that announcement alone would have made any student suspicious. This was far too organized for any school event.

The girls lined up first, some still talking quietly among themselves, but most were silent. She forced herself not to look at the crowd again. As much as she might have wanted to see someone from her family there, she knew that she would get no answers from them. She wasn't even sure if she wanted them. She had her own ideas about what the event truly was, but she didn't want to acknowledge them. If she did, then they might come true.

She was finally called to join the girls' fourth heat, and was already sizing herself up against the others in the race. There was the rich twins, each with a bigger belly than anyone in District 10 had any right to. She recognized Ashleigh, one year older than her who walked with a perpetual limp. They wouldn't pose much of a challenge to her. And she was good at sprinting-maybe it came from too much time spent clambering over rooftops with Ruth and running out of sight whenever anyone shouted at them to get down.

She found her mark in the ground and put her left foot in front of her, bending her knees just so.

Get set- Ella crouched. Every muscle in her body tensed.

Go!

She sprang from her position as soon as the whistle blew. Nerves alone propelled her forward. She took long strides and sped up just before she crossed the finish line. The next thing she knew, she had her hands on her knees, catching her breath, with a satisfied smile on her face. It was just a heat, bt she had won, and that was something to be proud of. In District 10, you took whatever you got, and you owned it.

The other events only seemed small after that. She concentrated more on the audience through shot-put and wrestling and did poorly in the mile run. As much as she wanted to ignore it, things became clearer with each lap. All the adults watching had a scrap of paper they would occasionally scribble on, as though taking notes. Some smiled and nodded after particular events, but most only watched with grim features and glassy eyes. That was the only way she could pick her father out of the crowd. He wasn't writing anything, and he hardly paid any attention to the events. Once, he caught Ella staring at him and winked.

He was talking to everyone: family, old friends, people he had never even met. Ella couldn't hear what he was saying to them, but she could see others' reactions to him. Some looked like they could have kissed him, but most crossed their arms or tried to send him away. One or two only nodded, then pressed a finger to their lips.

It wasn't until the final event that Ella even noticed anyone else from her family there. The crowd shifted and talked amongst themselves. Most were bored of the athletics display by now, no doubt thinking that this was a wasted day.

James hadn't stopped talking once during that time, but paused long enough to watch his daughter when the 100 Meter Finals were called.

On your mark. Ella once again planted her feet firmly on the ground.

Get set. Holding her breath, waiting for the whistle. She looked up. Her momma and Ruth stared at her from the crowd. Ruth's hands clutched at her face, as though she were afraid it would fall off. Her momma had her hands clasped together, as if in prayer. They were both shaking their heads.

The whistle sounded and Ella ran. The other girls fell away from her. She tried to slow down. She didn't want to win. Not this time.

Fear urged her legs on and she crossed the finish line short of breath and with tears in her eyes.

She had won.

Ella was awarded for her efforts with a cheap blue ribbon pinned to her chest as the crowd disperesed. "You went too fast." Wyatt sidled up to her.

She could only nod. Her throat was too tight to speak.

"It was one event, Elle. You'll be fine," he told her.

She fixed her eyes on the cinder road below their feet. "You didn't win anything," she managed to say. Wyatt was strong. Between caring for his momma and whatever work he could find, he could have won most any event. And he knew his way around the slaughterhouse, too. He already knew how to kill. If Ella had a vote, it might have been for Wyatt, and she immediately hated herself for the thought. Even if he was the only one in their district that had a chance of winning the Games, she would have never sent him.

"No one'll remember us," Wyatt said. "We'll be okay."

Ella only nodded. She wanted to believe him. "Yeah. We will."

Ella's house was normally full of family in the evenings, but it was empty when she arrived home. The living room was small, but felt huge with absence. Ella sank into the only armchair in the house, unsure how much longer her legs could support her. She closed her eyes and laid her head back. This was James's chair by unspoken rule, and she could smell him in the worn fabric. It was the scent of sweat and cows and cheap yellow soap, trying to wash all the work at the farm away.

It smelled like home.

Ella wasn't sure how much time had passed after she came home. She had dozed off where she sat, waiting for her family to come home. She startled to wakefulness when James threw the door open, a broad grin on his face. Mora didn't look nearly as pleased. Ruth, Aunt Annie, and Uncle Cyrus trailed in behind them, tight-lipped.

Ella jumped to her feet at once. "What happened?"

James let out a short, one-syllable laugh. "No one is going!"

She stared at him. "What do you mean, 'no one is going'?" Someone always went. This was just a fact of life.

James gave her a one-armed hug. "No one is going if we say so!"

Mora crossed her arms. "He didn't cast a vote."

"None of us did," Ruth added, without any of her usual cheer.

"But it gets better-" James waited for a moment, as though waiting for someone to interject. "We convinced-"

"You convinced," Mora snapped.

James ignored her. "No one in District 10 voted! They can't have the games with no tributes, can they?"

"What?" Ella stared at him, breathless. "No. No one would do that."

James raised his eyebrows. "And why wouldn't they?"

"Because!" The promise of safety was just too much to hope for. "Because if you don't vote..." she didn't need to finish that sentence. Everyone knew what happened when you didn't go along with the Capitol.

"Not if they don't know it was us." James winked. "Ellie, sweetheart, we're going to be fine. They have to know how we feel about this. They gave us a voice, and now we'll use it!" His voice rose to an excited shout, like it did when he was telling one of his old war stories.

Mora touched her husband's arm. "They know how we feel, James. They know."

Tears blurred Ella's vision. "Of course they do" she spat. "That's the whole point."

Ruth ran her hands through her cousin's hair. "I wish mine was this soft, Elle. How should we do it?"

Ella smiled while Ruth played with her hair. "I'm not trusting you with my hair! I've learned that lesson the hard way."

Ruth laughed, a little louder than normal. "If I remember right, the haircut was your idea."

"And if I remember right, you were the one with the shears!" Ella shot back playfully. "You nearly chopped off my ear!"

"I would've evened it out if your momma had let me." Ruth laughed again.

"You're just luck I never told Aunt Annie about the time I caught you and Tuck-"

"Shut up!" Ruth clapped a hand over Ella's mouth. "Shut up, shut up, shut up!"

Ella pulled Ruth's hand away, smiling for perhaps the first time all day.

"Stand up," Ruth instructed. "Let me look at you."

Getting back on her feet came as no small relief to Ella. Her legs were cramping and sore from kneeling while Ruth fussed with her hair. "This dress is too tight." She tugged at the powder blue garment, one of Ruth's hand-me-downs.

Ruth pulled Ella's hair forward so it cascade down by her cheeks. "Elle, you look lovely." She took a step back and scrutinized the dolled-up girl in front of her. "Something's missing. You need something eye-catching." She thought for a moment, and then her face brightened. "I know."

"I really don't need anything," Ella said quickly, before Ruth got any ideas.

"Yes, you do." A thin smile came over Ruth's lips. "Just a moment. Close your eyes."

Ella did so, and a minute later felt something loop around her neck. She looked down. "No. Ruth, I'm not taking it." She took off the impromptu necklace-a simple ribbon with Ruth's engagement ring hanging off it. "Ruth, Tom gave this to you. I can't have it." She thrust it towards her cousin.

"Tom won't mind just for an afternoon," she said, and closed Ella's hands over it.

"Fine." She slipped it back over her neck. "But just for the afternoon."

"Good. Now let's have a look at you." Ruth stepped back.

Ella opened her arms. "Well?"

"Beautiful. You'd better not outshine me on my own wedding day!" She let out a soft, trilling laugh that Ella instantly recognized as fake. She was just as nervous as Ella. Ruth pulled her into a hug. "I'm looking forward to it so much. The whole family around, and Momma even thinks she might have some of Grandma's jewelry." There was a brief pause while they both thought about their grandmother, a woman they had never met but heard so many stories about. She had lived through the Dark Days and the founding of Panem and became a legend in their family.

"I wonder what she would think if she saw us now," Ella whispered, mostly to herself.

"She would say, 'Ella Gibbons, you are lovely'." Ruth adopted a high-pitched voice to imitate their grandmother, "'And you mustn't worry about the future.'" She tucked a loose strand of Ella's hair behind her ear.

A sharp rap came on the door. "Ella! Ruth!" Mora shouted, her voice easily cutting through the thin walls. "What are you two doing in there? It's almost time to go!"

"C'mon." Ruth put her hand on Ella's shoulder. "We can't put it off anymore."

Ella closed her eyes and took a deep breath. "I know."

They could no longer fight it. It was Reaping Day.

"I'll be here right after," Ruth said.

Mora gave her daughter a hug. "You'll be fine, Ellie."

"Of course she will." Ella felt the pressure of her father's hand on her shoulder.

She looked at her family, heart hammering in her chest. "I know," she said at last. "I'll be back soon." Ella found herself corralled in with the other sixteen-year-old girls, all dressed in the best clothes that their families had to offer; some in lace, but most in old dresses and stockings with runs in them.

Mayor Wellwood walked onto the stage. He was a thin, balding man with a long nose and perpetual cold. He blew his nose on an embroidered handkerchief and stepped up to the podium. He greeted the crowd with a voice full of phlegm, "Attention, District 10, we wish to welcome our past victors to the stage." In the 25 years since the Hunger Games had begun, there had been only two winners from District 10. "First, Mr. Seth Keaning."

Seth Keaning had won the Third Hunger Games at the age of 15, but he almost never left his mansion unless he was required to. He looked like a skeleton waiting to burst out from the yellowing skin that held it in and needed help climbing the three steps onto the stage. When the camera focused on him, Ella could see that most of his teeth were gone. Whatever he spent his winning money on, it was destroying him inside and out.

"And Miss Cassidy Deggs-"

Cassidy could not have been any more different than her male counterpart. She was a tall, full-bodied woman the shape of an hour glass. Her dress was cut tightly, hugging her curves and showing just enough of her breasts to tantalize the imagination. She was built to draw attention to herself, from her bright red hair down to the easy sway in her hips. She winked at the Mayor, a gesture the cameras were sure to catch.

The victors were met with a smattering of applause, no more than was required of the audience. Mayor Wellwood let out several hacking coughs and began to read the Treaty of Treason. Before Ella was old enough to be chosen as a Tribute, she would stand next to her father during the Reaping and watch him seethe with anger. Was he doing it now? Or was he gloating, thinking that he had outsmarted the Capitol?

"Now, the man of the hour." Mayor Wellwood sneezed again and gestured to the man sitting just behind him. "Augustus Greensaint."

A tall, broad-shouldered man stood, with a face like stone and the whitest smile anyone had ever seen. At the right angle, the sun glinted off his teeth. "Welcome, welcome." He flashed his infamous grin. "District 10, your votes have been counted and you have chosen your Tributes." He walked over to the glass bowls. Each had one slip of paper in it. He plunged his hand into one with a shout, "May the odds be ever in your favor!"