A/N: Welcome to the 12th annual Hunger Games! Instead of fighting each other to the death, these tributes must work together to stay alive.

I haven't been on FFN in so long! Been uploading most of my stuff on my deviantArt, so here's what I've recently been working on: The Hunger Games: Death Wish.

Chapter 1 One in Six (Kassia)

They told me on the train. As if being reaped to participate in the Hunger Games wasn't bad enough, they had to now suddenly change the rules. Why? I demanded, in a tone so strained it hardly sounded like my voice anymore. Smiles slipped off artificial fa ades as they tried to come up with a reasonable excuse that would calm me down, make me see reason. I didn't need their lies. We all knew it was clearly because President Snow was bored with watching twenty four children be torn away from the only people who had ever loved them only to die slowly and painfully in the arena. Yeah, because that kind of thing apparently got boring to him. I kicked out at the nearby table. Protests followed. I didn't care.

"It's only because this year is the 12th annual Hunger Games," my mentor finally blurted out, "and seeing as there are 12 districts, President Snow decided he wanted to do something different this year." I regarded her coldly. "So what are the rules?"
"Only six of you have been chosen to participate from just six of the twelve districts. Instead of having to fight for survival, you'll all have to try and stay alive and don't worry, it won't be simple. If more than one of you are left alive at the end of the two weeks you'll have to try and last through, there'll be a vote in the Capitol to decide who wins." I swallowed hard. "Sounds great. "
My mentor cracked a cruel smile. "You've got it easy. At least you don't have to kill anybody in the arena."

I regarded the girl with a hardened gaze. She'd won just two years ago, but had changed beyond belief. Just a few years older than me, I remembered her well. Gone were the dirty-blonde sticky out plaits and rosy cheeks; instead, her hair now bounced off her shoulders in chestnut spirals and she looked like she hadn't eaten a good meal in days; something that was apparently considered to be fashionable in the world of the Capitol. Although we all knew she lived in the Victors' Village at home in District 10, she acted like she lived with the rest of the grotesque-looking, flourescently adorned people who were here on the train with me. I wanted to insult her for this, but suddenly it felt as if all the energy had been drained from my limbs completely. I sunk in my chair, regarding the nearby mahogany table with blurring eyes. Just this morning I'd awoken in my bed back on the Finch family farm, a little nervous for the Reaping but no more than I usually was. I never thought I'd be picked. When they read my name out, I swear to God I felt my lungs be torn straight from my chest. There's no other way to describe how it feels when you are told that you are going to die. Now, however... now there was more of a chance that I might win. There was only six of us and we actually had to help each other to stay alive. But no, I thought to myself, before I could even allow the slightest spark of hope to formulate inside of me. It couldn't be that simple. The Hunger Games wouldn't be worth watching if it were easy. Sighing, I folded my arms over my chest. There was nothing left to do but brood.

Life in District 10 had had a lot to be desired. 30% of the families had their own farms, like mine; the other 70% worked for them. When I was younger, I'd used to think that our farm was the greatest in the region. As I grew up however, and the many imperfections began to make themselves known to me, I realised that there was a reason why very few people came to work there and if they did, it was only because they couldn't find work anywhere else. The equipment was rusty, ancient and barely worked anymore; supplies were frugal, and the wood once used to make the buildings was starting to rot away. The summers were hot; there was always a danger that something would catch fire, and that would be the end of it all. My job was to feed the chickens, collect the eggs and look after the horses. Oh, how I loved those horses, I thought to myself, the memories sending painful little prickles across my eyes with the onslaught of tears. I'd never see any of that again. Who would do my jobs now? Things had definitely been on the decline after Mother, then Landon went... I shook my head, wrenching myself out of my steadily-despairing state. I had to focus on the challenge ahead of me.

It wasn't long until I was taken (led by Peacekeepers, of course) to my room, where I'd be staying until we got to the Capitol in just a few days' time. The walls were framed with mahogany panelling, and the furniture seemed to be made out of exactly the same material. What held my attention the most, however, was the window, the outside world kept from me by a thin sheet of glass. I'd crossed the room within seconds, fiddling with the catch on lock, but of course it did not open. My shoulders slumped; no, that would be too simple, too tempting. I could smash it, but I'd probably be caught before I could crawl out and straight into the arms of a better, although much darker fate. Swallowing hard, I headed towards the door leading to the bathroom. They'd told me I could do whatever I wanted until dinner. What with the imminent threat of the tears I could already feel pressing claustrophobically at the back of my eyelids, I knew the best way to relieve myself was by hoping that the roar of water would somehow conceal my hopeless, despairing screams. Unzipping my favourite brown jacket, I glanced at myself in the mirror, hanging over the sink. Already I could tell I'd lost my spark, stifled by the pure injustice of this world, and the imminence of death hanging over me. There was no way I'd win the Hunger Games, even if it was just one in six. There was nothing special about me: no skill, no secret talent hiding beneath my muddy green eyes. My black hair, darkened by the many hours spent working out in the sun, hung limply around my pale fa ade, a thin frown already having settled there. How would Dad take losing another child to the Hunger Games? It wasn't even worth thinking about. Feeling my face begin to twist with the grief, I undressed and headed into the small cubicle at the other end of the room.

Of course, I couldn't stay in the shower forever. Wrapping myself in a fluffy white bathrobe I headed back into the main room, glancing around me warily. Apart from a chest of draws beside the window and a bed opposite, there was a television and a radio. I guess that would pass the time. According to my watch I still had a few hours until dinner although my stomach was growling miserably already. When was the last time I had eaten? Must have been that morning, I realised. I hadn't touched any of the crap I'd already seen laid neatly out in the dining cart of the train, where the news had first been broken to me about the new rule changes. Either way, I didn't want to go anywhere now, not when my eyes were still swollen and puffy after having despair torn from them during my shower. Taking a shaky breath, I flopped down on the bed and used the nearby remote to turn the television on. They were still airing the Reapings, amazingly and it seemed to be that the one in District 5 was happening right now. I watched as another weirdly-dressed member of the Capitol, whose name was apparently Arina Drawley according to the commentary, stepped up onto the Podium, ready to choose the unlucky tribute. It never ceased to amaze me how all noise was completely sucked from the air, leaving only the purest tension you could ever possibly imagine. There was good reason for this one child's life was about to be ended in the cruellest way possible, and there was nothing any adult, any other child, could do to help. Even if you managed to survive the Hunger Games, they killed you in a different way, I realised, thinking back to my mentor, with her glossy rustic hair and sneering demeanour. A strange lump formulated in my throat. I didn't want to do this.

"Ambrosine Embers!" Arina suddenly shrieked. I glanced back towards the screen, watching as a girl of about 15 or 16, the same age as me, started in her position in the crowd. Nobody applauded. Nobody would be that sick. As she moved, however, a girl next to her suddenly grabbed onto her, a high-pitched moan escaping from her lips. The camera zoomed in on the pair, and it wasn't difficult to see why the latter had reacted in this way. They had the same, heart-shaped face, almond eyes set into skin framed by chocolate-brown hair. The Capitol woman called again for Ambrosine to come up, but her twin sister wouldn't let go, simply allowing Ambrosine to drag her through the crowd, too. Peacekeepers advanced towards them and Ambrosine faltered, but at that point her sister spoke up.
"I volunteer too!" she blurted out, "You can't take one twin and not the other!"

A low murmur was starting to stir through the crowd. A twin had never been picked before; nobody seemed to be quite sure what to do, I realised, watching as several Capitol officials turned to confer to one another, all wearing the same deep-set frown. Peacekeepers had now surrounded the two girls, those around them backing away as if they were nothing but a disease. The murmur amongst them had died back into that same tense silence, as if all of them knew that this controversy could only end in trouble. Finally, Arina turned back to the crowd, tapping the microphone consciously before speaking into it. From her tone, I could tell she was flustered, but she disguised it well.
"Well," she said, "I suppose we have two tributes from District 5 after all. Please welcome Ambrosine and her twin sister!"

It didn't take me long to discover that Ambrosine's twin was called Mabyn, and that the pair were totally inseparable. When the Capitol woman asked them to elaborate, however, they fell silent. I didn't blame them; there was no way both of them could come out of this alive; reliving memories now would be an unwelcome taunt playing across their consciences. Perhaps it would have been better if Maybn had stayed behind if Ambrosine survived, the pair could have been reunited. It wasn't for me to say though, I thought to myself, sighing as a commercial break came on. They'd show the highlights soon enough. Lying back against the pillows, it only just occurred to me how drained I really was. How heavy my limbs were, how the warmth of fatigue was slowly but steadily sinking into them. It would be good to rest now... I knew I wouldn't sleep well later, with the train rushing onwards and my thoughts ricochetting around my head relentlessly. Better to get some rest now, whilst the emotion still lay heavily over me like a cocoon. I'd face reality later, I decided, as I rolled over and fell asleep, the fact that I now had a one in six chance pressing heavily down on me.

A/N: Can't wait for more? I have the next few chapters on my deviantArt LeRachParade and some other fanfiction from fandoms such as Mirror's Edge and Sonic the Hedgehog. I'll add another chapter here in a few days though. Please R&R and hope you enjoyed this :)

Rach