Isis Felicity Carlisle, 15 years old
I feel my mother's nails piercing deep into my skin. Together we walk rapidly to the biggest square of district one. Last year I fought back, and refused to come with her, which only caused more drama and more pain. Luckily some career girl was faster than me, which wasn't a very big achievement, and I didn't fulfill my mother's wishes.
I didn't have to compete in these terrible games.
My light blue dress floats in the wind as we walk past a lot of nervous men, women, and children. At this moment, my heart is beating so fast that I would almost think it would stop when I take one more step closer to my destiny.
During our walk, I see in my peripheral vision that a lot of people are greeting me. Children I tutored, people I know from volunteering at the local food bank and some elderly people I help during the weekend.
The only thing I do is staring to the big stage in front of me, which is so far away, though feels so close to me. I feel my mother's grip getting tighter when people greet me and not her. It's pure jealousy, but I know how to cope with it. Just don't make it worse.
Then we halt in front of the registration desk. I feel my mother's anger when she has to wait more than three seconds before we get helped. I still don't understand why she does this. I know she hates me, but is it really necessary to put me in the Hunger Games and watch me die on live television?
A small tear wells up in the corner of my eye. At moments like this I really need a father, a sweet loving father. But remembering that my father is a vain guy from the capitol who happened to impregnate my mother, I quickly put this thought away.
"Be strong," I whisper to myself, knowing that again a career girl will be quicker than me. I'm not going to die, not today. I don't deserve to die.
"Isis Carlisle."
My mother almost shrieks my name to the peacekeeper behind the desk, who looks extremely irritated by the sight of a angry looking, botox-faced witch with a enormous hooked nose.
I'm so glad I don't look like my mother. My face is heart shaped, and my eyebrows are on the bushy side. My lips are full and I always wear ruby red lipstick to make these lips really stand out. I have grey eyes and in contrast to my mother, I have a small nose. My dark, black hair is waist length and at the moment done in a waterfall braid.
When the peacekeeper is done with all the administrative work, my mother turns to me as I smell the horrible breath coming from her mouth. It smells like a mix of sulfur and rotten fish. I choose to ignore it as I listen to what she has to say.
"If you don't volunteer, I swear, I will beat you until you're almost dead and I won't stop until you'd wish to be in the Hunger Games, understand?"
I give her a quick nod and walk into the great mass of people. When my breath -is getting- gets heavier and heavier I realize that it maybe would be for the best if I went to the Games, my life is awful either way.
With that thought I stand among the great group of nervous children and teens. During the whole speech of the mayor and of our escort I look to the ground as I prepare myself for volunteering.
A small, beautiful girl gets chosen for the games and walks up the stage as the words of the escort come into my ears.
"Are there any volunteers?"
I wait a tiny second too long after I yell across the square and raise my right arm. But then, when I look around me looking for the girl that was quicker than me, I realize I was the first one.
They say you don't know what you've got until it's gone; I guess I had that feeling about life.
Callius 'Cal' Gemstone, 17 years old
It's the sixth time I have to go through this, but the sixth time is a lot different than the other five times.
Six years ago, I would never have guessed that I would volunteer at one point in my life. I know I've trained my entire life, but I never had the intention to really compete in the games. I've always thought these career-guys were just stupid, outright stupid.
Maybe it's because they were better careers than me, that I had to find some point where I had to feel better than them, but they'll probably be just stupid.
But now, at this point, I'm happy to have trained all my life. I'm happy that I was that kid that just wanted to fit in, although he was different. Because I'm going to volunteer, I must escape from my life, I can't take it no more.
My father, Toretus, is a very controlling man. He is the mayor of district one and also very powerful. He is in charge of the district, he is in charge of me. He knows exactly who I am, and who I want to be. Which sounds good, except for the fact that he doesn't like who I am, and who I want to be. He wants me to be a different person. And what he wants, he gets.
Since I was thirteen, I knew I was gay. I never found it a problem when it just hit me, but my father did. Right after my coming-out he went searching, searching for a girl who I could marry. He wanted to let me know that I'm not going to be the guy I want to be, and that I'd better start changing right then.
He found a girl, the daughter of the second richest man in district one. A spoiled, vain girl who only cares about money and herself, but worse: she is a girl.
And that's why I have to flee, no matter where. The Hunger Games wasn't my first choice, rather the last. But also the only one.
When I see my father walking on stage, I hear my heart stop beating. In the corner of my eye, I see Gemma looking at me like she knows what I'm feeling. Of course she knows what I'm feeling, she's my best friend. I feel her hand gliding into mine while we watch my father talk.
After a short amount of time she turns to me.
"I know you'll do great, you can outsmart any of those dumb imbeciles, and you know that," she says with a small smirk on her face.
"Thanks, but save your sweet words for later," I mumble, completely focused on our escort who enthusiastically hops on stage. "Right now, I have a game I have to get into."
She smiles at me while the escort screams out a name I do not recognize. I really couldn't care less. While a little, innocent girl walks on stage, I start preparing myself mentally for all the drama that's coming.
"I can do this, I can do this," I whisper to myself, "I'm smarter than them, I will make them eat out of my hand and I will reign the career-alliance. I can do this."
Then, when our escort asks for volunteers for the second time, I respond within a millisecond with raising my hand and squeezing a great shriek out of my throat. After my shout, I hear multiple others, but clearly I was first. I turn my head to Gemma who gives me a big hug and pushes me towards the stage.
Slowly, there arises a great smile on my face while I'm moving towards the stage and ends up with me waving to all the cameras at the square. When the escort pushes the microphone under my mouth as she asks my name, my self-confidence is higher than it's ever been. And with that confidence, I answer.
"Callius Gemstone, remember it well. I will be the winner of the 23rd Hunger Games."
That's the first chapter. I hope you like it!
I love the tributes I received, they're so special and different. I had a shorter chapter in mind, but I had to make it longer to explain those characters a bit more. I think it came out very well.
Don't forget to review to get points for the sponsorsystem and go to my profile to find the tribute list! If you haven't sent one in yet, please do so!
Lastly I want to say that English is not my native language, so if there are any mistakes, that's the reason!
Update: Bananas and Fandoms, my new bèta for this story, has corrected all of the mistakes in the story, and will do so for the rest of the story! Thanks a lot!
