Alright so I started this story a few months ago, and what I have so far is about 18,000 words. I'm writing this for a friend of mine, but I'm having trouble motivating myself, so I think uploading it here too will help me with that. I'll probably upload one or two chapters a week, unless you guys want more than that.
"Tate Langdon." The shrill voice of the announcer called out to the audience. Tate barely registered the thousands of relived sighs coming from all around him. Fuck. That was his name. That wasn't his worst fear for the jar of boy's names. He would have chosen to go into the games a thousand times before ever wanting to hear his little brother's name come from that bright blue moron from Capitol. That wasn't an option yet, Beau was only a kid. He wasn't old enough to be reaped. He'd never be old enough for the games, not mentally or physically. That wouldn't stop anyone from picking his name, though. He'd get killed in the first bloodbath. Tate winces visibly. He tried never to think about that. He would have volunteered for either of his siblings in a second, but he couldn't do that if he was dead. He would just have to survive. And Tate wasn't a stranger to killing. He was pretty sure he had a fair shot in the arena. When the people in front of him parted like repelling magnets, he walked forward and ignored their stares. He'd seen the reaping enough times to know what he was supposed to do. He stood next to whatever that fucking Capitol whore's name was and looked in the crowd, glad that his siblings were too young to be chosen and safely at home, where they didn't have to see this. They were in shitty hands, and it made Tate feel sick knowing they'd be there without him for however long Tate was in the arena, but knowing their big brother was killing and being stalked like prey would make everything much worse. Addie understood what the hunger games were. Beau didn't, but he knew what danger was.
Tate's thoughts were interrupted when he heard the name of the girl going into the arena with him. Fuck, no. Fuck. Not her. She couldn't take part in the fucked up killing spree the Capitol called a 'game.' No. His first instinct was to volunteer for her and go in her place, but then he remembered where he was standing. He frantically searched the crowed for a raised hand or someone rushing up to volunteer. Literally anyone in that audience would deserve it more than her. But, like after they called his own name, it was silent. She didn't look scared. He knew she was, but she looked like a damn stone. She always did that when she was hiding something. He was silently thankful for that. All the other competitors would see this when they were studying, and he didn't want them to think she was a weak, easy target. It didn't matter too much, he wouldn't let anyone touch her. He wouldn't let anyone get within 10 yards of her. She was going to be the winner.