I kept submitting this character to SYOT's. It was nice to see how they interpreted her, but now its my turn to show them her Hunger Games for real. This is the real version of the Hunger Games this tribute was in.

I don't know if she'll win. I might change the Point of Veiw later though, so you never know. So don't assume anything.

Anyways, I hope you enjoy it!

Jewel POV

The day of the Reaping. Great. That's just what I need. Another thing to worry about.

Maybe it wouldn't be something to worry about though... Maybe it's a blessing.

I mean, I could finally end my life like I've been trying to do, I just never had the courage to actually do it. Maybe this was the way to go. Where I had two options if I went into it. I could come out of it dead, and have no reason to worry anymore , or I could come home as the winner, and I would have some people talking to me, and I wouldn't be so alone anymore!

I guess I would volunteer, or should I...

I hate life. I get made fun of everyday. I hate school, I hate people who think they understand, and I hate my stupid 'purpose in life'.

I go to school each day just to learn a new nickname someone thought of for me.

The newest one was 'Suicide Girl'.

Apparently someone found me in the stream trying to drown myself last week.

How could the one thing I thought that would be good, and go well in my life, go wrong and then have someone turn it against me? Why is the world so cruel? Was my stupid purpose for life to be some form of entertainment for the lord

I wasn't even sure I believed there was such thing as a lord anymore. If there was, then why is he keeping me alive for this horror people call life! It's like I did something to offend him when I didn't know it and it was too long ago for me to remember. So then he decided to make my life miserable by sending down stupid Kathy.

I wondered what stupid Kathy would do to make my life miserable today. She tended to go out of her way to make my life miserable. Ever since that one fateful day.

Now, if you were able to look back in my mind, and see my memories of her, you'd think, 'what's so bad about her?'

Well, I'll tell you.

She's an evil, spoiled brat!

Now, I could go on and on with insults, as I once did to her, but I'm not going to.

You see, Kathy and I used to be friends.

We would hang out every weekend, and text each other everyday when we got home.

But one day, I finally realized the truth.

I saw the patterns. She was using me.

When she'd call, she'd say, "I'm bored, do you want to hang out?"

She totally ignored me while I was with her at school. Later, I learned she talked behind my back. Just like everyone else.

I didn't want to believe it. I didn't want to believe any of it. But I had seen the signs, so instead, I gave her excuses. She can do that to me, because I'm not important. Over and over and over. Like a broken record.

Then, the last straw happened.

She harassed me using someone else's phone. So that they couldn't trace it back to her.

I called the police, and they did trace it to her eventually.

I couldn't deal with it. I cried for hours and hours and hours that night.

I finally came to the decision that, I couldn't be friends with her anymore.

I knew it would be hard to do. She had a way of manipulating people to do what she wanted, and she wanted to keep using me. But I couldn't do that anymore.

So when I finally told her the next day, after hours of preparation that night, hours of practice, hours of thought.

When I did tell her, something totally different changed inside her. Some kind of monster was unleashed. It was scary, but I kept with it.

I didn't know what I had gotten into when I first did it. I didn't know. I couldn't see the future.

I saw in her eyes, that she had promised herself, to make my life miserable. I could almost see the thoughts going through her head.

If she isn't happy being my friend, then she can't be happy at all.

From then on, for about a year, she made connections. I didn't hear much from her for a while. I thought I'd gotten rid of her for good.

But one day, the people I sat with at lunch, the ones I thought might like me, started hanging out with her, started complimenting her, and eventually, she started sitting with us.

So I moved. I found another table. Then she did the same with them.

I couldn't win.

It reminded me of a war.

You stood your ground, then someone attacked. Then the weaker country retreated, and the stronger one gained land. Then it would play itself over and over until the other countries army all died.

It was the perfect analogy.

And that's just one thing she has done. You have no idea how much she has made me cry, how much many ugly poems I have written about her.

You see, I write extremely depressing poetry. It's not the kind of thing you would read to a child before bed. It's far from it. It's more one of those campfire scary stories you read before bed to freak everyone out.

I remembered one of them particularly well.

Death

The man they call death,Likes to follow me tells others when,Their lives are over.

He tells me sometimes,That my life is done.I believe him sometimes,Just every so often.

But then I found out,He was only taunting was showing me all,Of what I couldn't have.

Sometimes I pray,That he'll come find me he'll kill me,Once and for all.

But I know that won't happen,The world is too is no escape,Without the man they call death.

Depressing huh? Yeah, I know. Trust me. I showed this to someone once. The person I told? Kathy. Another thing she could tell others to make them hate me.

So what was she going to do today?

That's when I remembered. It's reaping day.

So right now I have to go get into my only dress. The one that's plain white. Because our family can't afford anything better.

I grabbed my necklace. It wasn't going to be my district token though. My district token was my poetry notebook and a pencil. My necklace was simple. It had blue beads on it alternating light blue and dark blue, and hanging in the middle, was a single shell, that Chloe and I had found on the beach one day. It was one of the only happy memories I could remember.

I braided my hair just to get it out of the way. Who cares how it looks.

I grabbed my notebook that is always with me. Whether it's under my pillow, in my hands with the rest of my books, or on a table next to me, and I walked to the town square, the only place we could have enough space to put everyone.

I sat in the closest section, the 12 year old section.

I knew I had a huge chance of being picked because I took so much tessarae, but even if I wasn't maybe I should just volunteer. Then, I could be able to prove something to myself and to everyone else who didn't believe in me, and only thought I was the nerd no one cared about.

But what happens if I'm right? What happens if I am a nerd?

Oh wait, it won't matter because I'll be dead, and I won't have feelings anymore! Duh!

I was apparently really deep into my thoughts. The escort was walking over to the bowl with the girls names in it.

"I-" I started to say but was cut off.

"Jewel Johnson!" She said enthusiastically.

Well, I guess it didn't matter then.

I heard the intake of several breaths, the way it always goes when a twelve year old gets chosen.

I heard a specific voice say, "NO!" It was obviously my older sister Chloe.

My sister Chloe. Oh god. The popular girl. I'm not sure how she managed to remain popular once I got to third grade, when my life kind of died, but she did. So now, she's captain of the cheerleader squad, the most athletic girl I know, student of the year due to her grades, the head of the popular crowd, and all the teachers love her.

Such a huge contrast compared to me.

But honestly, this is the only time she has ever shown that she ever cared. Even a little.

Although, she probably just misheard the name and thought it was her.

Oh well, I knew I had to go up to the stands anyways, and that now, no one could stop me from being taken to the how to play it? I had gotten pretty good at masking my emotions and putting on the ones I'm supposed to have. I was actually happy that I was being condemned to death, but I put on a face of shock and sadness. Yea, a twelve year old girl would do that, wouldn't she?

I walked slowly up to the steps of the stage and I could hear the escort's foot tapping.

As I walked by Kathy, she gave me a smile of death, and I wondered if she had rigged it. But I figured the thought was proposterous and continued walking.

I knew that there was no way Chloe would take my spot, because no one volunteers here in district 11.

I eventually got up there and she (the escort) congratulated me. What was there to congratulate? 'Yay! You get to go kill people, and most likely be killed to!' What kind of congratulations would that be!

I could hear the murmurs coming from the crowd.

'That's Chloe's sister?'

'Heh. Looks like Suicide Girl's getting her wish.'

'At least no one important is being killed this year. Or at least so far.'

'Wait, but that girl's scrawny, blue eyed and looks like she's never eaten in her life. Chloe had brown eyes, and she's curvy. Something's wrong here… Maybe Jewel was adopted or something like that…'

She then pulled out the males name. "Kyle Throtingward!" She called with enthusiasm.

Where did I recognize that name from? Probably one of the ever-expanding list of people who made fun of me.

A boy from the sixteen year old section grumbled and walked up.

He towered over my short body of 5' 1", he had green eyes, while I had blue, and a deep dark black hair while I had dark blonde hair. He had huge muscle mass from all the days in the fields, while I was skin and bones, from days of climbing the highest trees because I was the only one light enough, and could get from tree to tree easily.

Then, when he was next to me, I remembered who he was. Kyle Throtingward, was the one person who had ever even tried to stand up for me. He was punished in his social status, but managed to gain it back pretty quickly.

He was the guy my sister talked about all day in her room. And wrote about all the time in her diary.

Call me evil, but yes, I did read her diary. I mostly read it for research. I could usually tell what was going on by watching. I was amazing at observing, but I'd double check it in Chloe's diary, to make sure I was right. Every so often she'd write about a couple who was together, or an upset in the crowds that I hadn't noticed. So this was my way of learning those things. Research. I mean, I really couldn't care less who she had a crush on, or who was the competition for her lead role of the top.

So I had, the heavily muscled, most popular guy in the district, against… This scrawny twelve year old, who was suicidal. Who do you think had a better chance at survival and sponsors?

You guessed it! The boy.

I was forced to shake hands with him and he gave me a warm smile while I shyly looked up at him through my fake tears.

I was lead to a room to say 'goodbye'. My family came in, and immediately I felt Chloe right in front of me shouting, "I SWEAR, IF YOU KILL KYLE, AND COME BACK ALIVE, I WILL BEAT YOU INTO THE GROUND!"

I sat there and took it figuring I deserved it. Then thought better of it. If I don't come back, this might be my last chance at telling her what I've been wishing I could say my whole life.

"You know what Chloe?" She stopped surprised I had spoken. "It's hard enough being the hated one at school. But when the person leading the group that hated you was your sister. It hurts even more. I've never felt loved by you before. Ever. And at school, you look at me like I'm an embarrassment to the family, and then to go home and have to see that every time I come out of my room. It's pure torture. Which is exactly the reason I don't come out of my room for dinner. Because I can't stand that face you give me. That face everyone makes at me. But it's worse to have it come from your sister. And to know for sure that I'm alone. I don't even think you know my middle name Chloe…"

"It's Crystal, right?"

I sighed. "No Chloe, it's Caraline. See what I mean. You don't know me. All you have ever cared about is yourself. You've never thought of me before. You never stopped to think how your actions effected the other people around you. Not even your biological sister…You never have cared about what I do before. Why should you care about what I do now? Because it effects your life? Well you know what, you effect my life too. You effect it more than you could possibly know. So don't talk to me about effecting your life. Because I don't want to hear it." I said softly. I could barely get the words out of my mouth. I hated to say such horrible things, but I knew they needed to get out. Someway, somehow.

Inside, I secretly hoped that somehow, this message would be broadcasted, even though it was supposed to be private. I needed this message to get out. So that people knew what was wrong with some kids. I knew I wasn't the only person in Panem who felt like this, but I was almost certain I was the only one in District 11 who felt like this. And people needed to learn just how hurtful things could be.

Then I remembered the interviews… Right… I could do it there. I just had to hope that the girl's Ceaser's daughter Gilda would ask me something appropriate to share it with them.

I could only hope.

I realized that Chloe was still starring at me in shock, and I knew, that nothing I had just said had gotten through to her. She was the same old Chloe I had known my whole life. She didn't get it yet. After all this time.

I slumped back onto the couch defeated. I had finally gotten the courage to say it outright, and when I did, she was too shocked by my words to absorb them. I was still an unknown person to her. She'd probably be happy to watch me die. She'd have no one to keep her popularity from sky rocketing even further.

My parents didn't really know me because I was always in my room, so they said a quick goodbye and were obviously uncomfortable.

Chloe muttered a goodbye still in shock and left me.

I was alone, and I was supposed to face the games on my own.

Good luck with that Jewel. You just keep wishing you have a chance.

And with those ugly thoughts, I was taken to a train.

Destination: My death.