Hello readers! I just wanted to say that I am super excited to be posting my first fanfiction, and I hope you all like it! As explained in the summary, it is the story of a strongwilled girl from District 7 who becomes the Victor of the 9th Hunger Games. The storyline is quite simple and does not concentrate on Wylla's time IN the Games, rather the events surrounding them/Wylla's reactions. Please review if you feel like it, because constructive criticism is what makes the world go round *so cheeeeesy I know, but seriously, I would LOVE reviews, because then I'd know what to improve on/if people like the story*For future plans (aka Christmas break), I will probably write a longer story on Wylla's journey in the Games, if people read/like this one.

Without further ado...

The 9th Hunger Games

When her name was called, the only thing Wylla could do was dutifully drop a loud F-bomb and stomp up on the stage, aggressively pushing away the arms of the Peacekeepers that wanted to assist her. She stood on the stage, her arms shaking slightly, and glared with smoldering hatred towards the silent starved crowd. She knew no one would volunteer, because she had no older sisters and her friends did not like her enough to risk their life for her in the Hunger Games. Even as charming as she was, no one was ready to literally throw their life away for her sake. She almost smirked at that thought; swearing at your own reaping for all of Panem to hear…charming, indeed.

"Now for the boys," the escort shrilly exclaimed and Wylla had to muster all of her remaining self-control to not physically cringe away from the horrid sound.

The only thing she could think of was that statistically, siblings almost never went into the games together, so hopefully Fate would not completely fuck her over by pitting her against her own little brother. That being said, she had never been good at math or statistics, and Life usually found a way of screwing her over. Holy crap. Holy crap. That definitely did not help quell the crazed hammering of her heart against her ribcage at the thought of her brother being reaped. She had to bite back a full-fledged exclamation of relief as an unknown sixteen year old boy stepped on stage shakily, after his name had been called.

They shook hands, her grip firm and angry, his, meek and clammy. The boy's family was seen sobbing in the roped-up area where the adults stood. His elder brothers were all obviously too old to volunteer, bearing strained guilt-ridden expressions on their faces. Cold relief and sadness was permeable in the air of District 7.

As Wylla entered the Justice Building, her own family flooded in, their haunted and sorrow-filled eyes scanning her face. Her father and mother simultaneously flung their arms around her, and on any other occasion, Wylla would have pushed them away awkwardly. This time though was obviously an exception, due to the fact that no matter what happened in the arena, she knew she would never come back the same. Hell, might as well give in to human emotions once in a while.

As they helplessly whispered empty encouragements into her ears, a question, ONE question burned on her tongue, and she knew that this was the last chance she had to ask it.

"Will you have me back?"

Slightly bewildered, her parents looked at her, pushing her slightly back at arm's length to try to decipher the meaning of her words. Wylla mentally kicked herself. She had never been good with words.

"I mean, will you have me back, no matter how broken and ugly and disgusting I am going to be? Because, honestly, I am stuck in this crap and realistically it's going to take a lot of effort to get out of it, and I'm wondering if it's even worth it, because-" because I would have nothing to live for, if it wasn't for my family, and I would kill and slaughter mercilessly if it meant that I could come back to you-

"Yes, of course we will," her father cut off her flow of words that just kept tumbling out of her mouth. "No matter what you become in there, do anything, ANYTHING in your power to get out, and we will be here to fix you," he said gruffly. "We love you so much Wylla."

Just those words were enough. A mask of determination cemented Wylla's features in that moment. She would come back, no matter the price.

Her brother came in soon after and there were no tears in his eyes. Only the same angry determined expression that Wylla had seen reflected back at her on the screens of the Square, when she was reaped. It was so strikingly similar that she almost laughed. Without saying a word, he gave her a hug. At that moment, Wylla realized how much he had grown.

And what he said next echoed in her ears, like a motto that drilled her on in moments of utter despair. His voice held no venom, it was calculating and even, as though he was simply stating a well-known fact.

"You will come back Wylla. Kill them all." And just like that, she was whisked away onto the train, and towards the Capitol.