DISTRICT 12 –
Mara Devlin, 14

She was convinced she was alone, although, she certainly wasn't. Like many other people in her district she was a victim of the lack of food.

Or hope.

She thought she was alone with the feeling of her body burning; how she was the only one in the world right now who was experiencing this and how her body was slowly failing. It was cracking - it was hollow and haunted of memories of food. It was breaking down its own muscles and other tissues in order to keep her heart functioning. It was fighting for survival but she was dying.

Slowly but surely, just like the rest of her family, the tiny girl was going to stave to death.

Surprisingly, Mara did not share this fight for survival like her body. She was rather the enemy, stopping and blocking every attempt her brain was giving her to get up and get some food. She had locked herself in her room and she was going to stay there, curled up until she would stop breathing.

She was still thinking about her last words. It was a love and hate trial process and she just hoped that when the time had eventually arrived, she would have made her words right.

She was slowly dying- almost too slow. For the first time in her whole life, the girl found herself hating the season she was trapped in; it was keeping her just warm enough to not go numb.

If you were to walk into the abandoned house, located just by the edge of the district, the girl's pale skin and the dead eyes would easily have you fooled. The girl looked like a ghost, and she was hovered by darkness.

She thought she was alone, but malnutrition was a common feature to District 12. It happened every day. Mara was just selfish of her own suffering that she would not dare to think anyone else was experiencing the same pain she was.

The only reminder that she was actually still alive was how the sun suddenly found her left chin, and how the air she was breathing felt raw and sharp against her dry throat.

It was not surprising that when the time came, Mara's father took inspiration from the birds. There were moments where all he could see were small charcoal thumbs prints in the sky. And the man, pointing half mad with the decadence of them, choked out his last words ''look there, look there-'' But Mara couldn't see the birds the day her father died. She had been blinded by the sun.

Ever since that day, the daughter had stared up countless of times in the sky, hoping to catch a glimpse of something similar to what her father had seen just seconds before drifting away. Her eyes stretched to the horizon- and anything beyond the horizon was invisible for the girl. It could only be imagined. She wanted to see the birds, but all she could see was clouds.

Looking back in the past is easy for a while and then when she loses herself in the past it gets murky.

The mother had passed away just a few months earlier. The sky was orange and there was cold snow covering the streets. The day she started coughing up blood was the beginning of the end. Her lungs became heavy, coal clogged and broken. She wasted away, until she succumbed to the miners curse. The peacekeepers took her body away the next day.

Mara remembered she wanted to yell at them. She wanted to grab them by their arm and yank them – but she couldn't bear leaving her fathers side. She didn't dare to let go of his hand. Both father and daughter, the only remainders of the Devlin family, chose to let the peacekeepers pass untouched. They had weapons and cruelty and the father and daughter had nothing.

When she had first realized she was on her own, Mara had lived by the guilt of being too late. She was too late to say goodbye, and if there was one thing she would know for sure, it was that that the worst goodbyes are the ones never said.

''Oh dear, is that..?''

The girl hadn't even noticed the new presence in the room until the lady spoke up. Her grey eyes snapped up to the sound and she stared at the visitor in shock, trying to decipher what was going on. She surely had never seen the woman before – and she had no reason to come here, so why-

''I'm from the Justice Building – we're looking for a house for a new family and… You must be Miss Devlin,'' the woman answered the unspoken question.

Mara couldn't quite hear all of the words the woman was speaking. The sounds were suddenly muffled and the energy to keep her focus maintained was beyond any hope to be rescued. However, the girl was able to find some sense to the woman's words – and it made her angry.

''You can leave. I still live here,'' she spoke, now glaring up at the woman from her small cradling form. She was met by confused and somewhat disgusted eyes… there was some fear in them too, probably due to the bony figure of the child in front of her.

The woman shook her head as if to clear her thoughts, then offered the girl a weak smile. ''You have to come with me. You could die here and I have food to give you and my husband-''

Mara couldn't let the woman finish. ''No,'' she whispered, words almost impossible to hear. To the woman's horror, the little girl starts shaking. It was not because of the cold, but because of the stress. All the stress was taking over her body and running through her veins – all because of the words that was thrown at her so quickly it was hard to process it all.

''No, I am not leaving. You can't make me go anywhere,'' she said, her voice hoarse. It hardly had any melody to it – it was almost a monotone voice, and it surely didn't fit to the tiny girl's innocent face. The voice was emotionless.

''I won't leave. You can't make me. I won't.''

Mara frowned hearing her own voice. She had not spoken in days, and now her throat was like sandpaper. She frowned even harder when she felt the woman's warm hand place itself upon her shoulder.

''Don't!'' she screamed, squeezing her eyes shut as she tried to push the adult away from her, but it was all in vain. The lady easily picked the girl up, pulling her up to her feet. But the girl kept fighting, desperately trying to fight her way free.

''Don't touch me! Leave me be! I wan't to be alone. Don't you dare try to.. I don't want to- I... I don't...''

That's when tiny pale, skinny girl realized her mistake. She had used up all of her energy at fighting someone who was impossible to beat. Her muscles were giving up and her brain told her system to shut down.

And so, Mara fell unconscious into the big woman's arms, falling into deep slumber.

DISTRICT 12
Vincent Gemignani, 18

It's bizarre how something so simple could change in a matter of seconds.

The coal dust clung to everything, a grey coat for the District. The little house was coated in it, pots and pans, mirror and table, wardrobe and floor. Everything but the boy who lay in sheets that were free from coal.

He automatically woke up and it didn't take long for him to pull his clothes on. It didn't take long until he was out on the streets, rushing to catch up with the rest of his shift team. It didn't take long until he was covered in dust again.

Vincent was one of the best there is at what was consuming most of his thoughts. Most of the time, he was thinking about his mistakes. We don't all make mistakes, but some of us very specifically make mistakes, and others don't seem to make any mistakes at all.

As he lifted his bucket filled with coal for the third time, slowly carrying it over towards the minecart a few steps away, the boy couldn't help but remember when his mistakes had meant something to him. He thought of how sudden it all had happened. How he was caught off guard. How it now it was the reason he had these awful bags under his grey eyes and how he'd stay up till 4AM thinking about it.. what he could've done differently.

He lost his the arm in a mining accident.

Well, technically he did not lose the arm and technically it was a mining explosion. He wasn't even supposed to be in the mines in the first place. He was just hoping to see his father before his shift started. One wrong charge, one slip of one hammer by a poor worker too tired to realize he had done something wrong.

The explosion knocked the 18-year-old Vincent out, crushing him under a pile of debris. They had saved his life but there was nothing they could do about the severed nerves in his arm.

It was Thursday.

The sun was shining and the birds were singing their last song before nightfall and Ackio Coleson was yelling his lunges out like a medieval torture victim.

''Gemignani! We need a someone with some intelligence over here!''

All three of the small group of friends Vincent had were gathered right under the rusty old bridge the train always passed before entering District 12. All to his annoyance, he found Ackio laugh nearly hard enough to form tears by the corner of his eyes.

''What happened now? And I swear- if it's about youknowwhat again I am leaving.''

Ackio shook his head, slamming his back against the wall before a huge smirk covered his face. ''No, no, don't worry. I'm saving that for another time.'' Vincent let out a warning growl to his friend, but Ackio ignored it, slamming his hands together.

''Actually, it's your brother. I think he's mentally insane.''

''Hey!'' This accusation made the person in question jump up to his feet from where he had been sitting on the ground, his finger now pressing hard against Ackio's chest as if to tell him to take it back, but Ackio couldn't stop grinning at his friend. Vincent who was only standing a good three feet away, however, burst out laughing.

The two Gemignani brothers were hardly any similar in their appearance and were rarely assumed to be related, but they were very similar in their personalities and their priorities.

''I'm with Coleson on this one, Felix. We all saw you go serial-killer-creepy just a few hours ago after the shift,'' Oliver, the third member of the crew speaks up, pushes his long black hair out of his face and gently tugged on Felix's sleeves, but this was to no avail, as Felix continued to try to push him off.

''He's right, you know. We're your friends. We can't merely sit here while you waste away, dreaming about a girl who clearly isn't interested,'' Ackio argues, earning rapid nods from his friend as they both glare at their hopeless friend.

Vincent was somewhat embarrassed of his brother – but despite this they still always seemed to get along. Neither of them was afraid of being honest with each other, and Vincent figured Ackio might not have been that clear – so he cleared his throat, determined to get the facts straight.

''She literally hates you,'' he continues on what Ackio had just said, giving his brother a quick glance. ''It's not healthy.''

They were both just trying to help their friend out, but Felix wasn't taking it very well. ''But there is something about her with that hair and soft and warm-'' Oh great, here we go again. How many times hadn't they had to put up with this bullshit?

Felix was already a goner. He was already making a list of all the perfect details of Miss Perfect.

Pressing a hand hard against his face, crushing his nose in the process – Vincent groaned. ''Will you please snap out of it?'' And for once, it was actually loud enough for Felix to come back to reality. Clearing his throat, a blush rushed up to his cheeks.

''What were you saying? I kind of… um… spaced out.''

Ackio rolled his eyes, finally giving in and joining the rather ridiculous discussion they were having. ''Yeah right. You were acting like a bloody 10-year-old,'' he huffed. ''Don't you get it? She's not into you.''

Felix smirked. ''Of course she is into me. All girls are!''

He winked at his brother before laughing at the disgusted expression he got in return. All of Vincent's reactions were always top quality and Felix always found them entertaining. There was just something about his face that made it very expressional - not to mention all those different frowns he was able to pull off… or how he always knitted his eyebrows together.

Shaking his head, Vincent closed his eyes for a second. ''You've really got to deflate that head of yours a bit. Cartwright even said so herself! Perhaps not the same way… In fact, she was much more blatant,'' he said, brushing some dirt off of his pants. ''So why won't you just give it up?''

It didn't even taking as much as three seconds for Felix to answer. ''Well clearly because I got the looks of the family, idiot.''

For once, Vincent found himself agreeing. If Felix got the looks, Vincent himself had surely got the brains.

Mara Devlin's POV, 14

It was the oddest thing feeling something actually fill the empty pit in your stomach after days of nothing but water. It's almost like you're aware of it inside of you. Like you can feel it.

Mrs. Delta washed me, cleaned me, fed me and brushed my hair the morning of the reaping. I wasn't moving nor talking during any of it – all I did was to just stare at her. Even though my lack of attention was making it more complicated for the old lady to get the work done, it didn't stop her. Neither did it stop me from staring at her, trying to figure out why she did it. The glare was gone, but even if I would've kept my glare it wouldn't had mattered. She wasn't meeting my glance until she was done and it was time to go.

The dress was faded and worn at the seams, and from the small glimpse I was able to catch myself in the mirror, it looked sloppy as it hanged on my fragile body. It must've belonged to Mrs. Delta when she was younger.

She had stopped trying talking to me after the time she went over the edge, apologizing over my parents. She didn't even know them- so how could she possibly try to feel compassion? The truth was that she didn't even know their names. All she could possibly know about the Devlin family would be some notes on a piece of paper, forgotten somewhere on her desk in the Justice Building.

I've never really thought about the reaping. I wasn't even aware what day it was when Mrs. Delta came and took me away. I guess I just figured I would've faded away until the reaping… and even if I hadn't, I wouldn't have showed up.

Mainly because I wouldn't have the energy to do it, but mostly because the peacekeepers would've finished me off I hadn't showed up.

I like to stick to walls – I like to be at the outskirts of things, but as I was led to the pen where all the 14-year-olds were to stand, I was pushed right to the middle. So much for the attention.

It didn't matter which direction I looked over at, there was always someone there to meet my glance with terrified eyes.. although I could never quite figure out if they were reacting to my corpse-like body or to the reaping. The colorful escort was already talking with her high-pitch voice, but I wasn't listening.

It was all until the first name was called when I found myself pulled back to reality again.

It was a boy, not my age, but older – that wasn't the thing about him that caught my attention though. It was his arm. Staring at it, just like everyone else at the square, I was probably the only one who felt a rush of excitement as I took in the details.

His arm looked destroyed – black and blue and almost dented at some spots. He was a freak, just like me.

So as my name was repeated by the escort I didn't even flinch. I didn't as much as shiver. As I shook his big, warm hand, I didn't hesitate a second. He surely did, probably afraid to break my hand. His eyes stared at me with tears ready to fall – but I didn't understand why.

I welcomed it.

I welcomed my death, and so did I welcome his death – and from the looks of it, he knew it too.

I'm sorry for the long chapter, I suppose i was just very eager to start all of this.I know there is flaws and I am looking for a beta... Feel free to PM me if you'd like to help out. Anyway, here's the questions for future reference.

1. Honestly though.. Was it too long?
2. What was bad and what was good?
3. Any thoughts on the tributes?

Thanks for reading :)
/Nine