Dear Reader,

I've almost gotten caught with this story as I sat on the beach that I was lucky enough to obtain in the District lines being drawn. I accidentally fell asleep in the sand when a young couple came up to try and get ahold of the journal. I woke up right as they were reading my initial warning to you.

You see, dear reader, loose lips sink ships. When asked what my intentions with writing these stories down, I answered with "I'm just writing a fiction book out of boredom.". This story will only see the eyes of you and me until I have the time to spread it accurately.

Like I've said, if spreading it means my certain death, then so be it, but you've heard enough about me. Let's introduce the last female southern tribute from the USA Hunger Games.

Prisoner number 499s45322. Rhendee Ward. Charged with petty theft and was first sentenced to a month in prison. Two years later was charged with graffiti and vandalism and sentenced to two years in jail. Eligible for parole in a year.

Rhendee Ward, 16

Southern Female

I have never thought that a life of in and out of jail would be the life that I would have for myself. I have always thought of my life being bigger than the system. Worth something more than just another statistic and a number on an ID.

"Aloha, inmates." says the C.O. as he brings his baton across each of the barred off cells. "Welcome to another beautiful day here at the Honolulu Detention Facility. We are on a tight schedule today, and you all have work duty before your rec time today. So get up, get dressed, and be standing in front of your cell in 20 for your count."

"Yes, sir." we all say as we jump out of bed and begin to get dressed. I like the schedule here. If there's one thing that being incarcerated has taught me is that I like being in a routine. The C.O.s are always cool too unless you give them a reason not to be.

I work in the hair salon of the detention center. As an art person, there isn't a lot of opportunities to get out your creative expression. I mean, you have the rare gift from your parents, and your friends send you colored pencils and other supplies, but your options of what you're allowed to do are severely limited here in prison. So hair is a cool way to express yourself.

I walk down the hall and turn the corner and follow the other group of girls that are part of the hair salon squad. The weird thing about our detention center is it male and female population. We hardly ever mix, but one of the main places we do intermingle is the hair salon. There are even a couple of guys who help out with the hair cuts because "girls don't know how to do guys hair," as we've heard so many times from unpleased customers.

When I arrive in the room, I go over to my assigned chair, chair number 3, and look down at the clipboard that tells me how many appointments I have today. I have a small number of clients today, sitting at just four people. This will be an easy day. The first girl walks in and takes a seat at my chair.

"I want it to be red, with lots of blonde streaks in it. Maybe even a bob?" she says "You know what, just use your imagination."

She just gave me the green light to a world of endless possibilities. I begin to look at my array of colors that I can do to her hair to make it pop more, but then it occurs to me that we are in prison, and if I piss her off I'm probably going to get a beating.

"You promise I can surprise you?" I ask bluntly

"As long as I like it," she says with an innocent smile.

"Cool, so what do you want to be done? Because I am not taking the blame for you hating your hair."

"Fine," she says. "Give me a dark red dye and cut off two inches please."

"That," I say emphasizing the word. "I can do."

I begin to measure out the hair that I'm going to cut off in my hands as she starts to spout off random information about the different groups in the prison. This is a common practice in my chair. I don't talk; I haven't exactly been involved in a group either, but more of a jack of all trades with the idea that I know what's going on. Information is something I have a lot of. Which is ironic because I do nothing with the information given.

I learn that the drug dealers are still finding ways to get drugs into the detention center, and it's driving the C.O. up the walls because they can't go a couple of days without some kid being spent out on heroin or having withdrawal symptoms.

"Yeah, and I also heard that Mariah and the cute new C.O. is having a thing!" she said

Now this, being as Mariah is my cellmate, I kind of have to step in on. There's not a lot I can do to divulge the rumors, which are true. They totally hook up all the time, but I'm just looking to get my time done and exit this building for the last time.

"I don't know about that," I say casually, Mariah is my cellmate, and I haven't seen anything with the C.O. as of late. He doesn't even come by our cell unit. We have mostly all girls, and if not it's the crusty old man that everyone avoids."

Which me saying is a total lie. He was in our cell unit just this morning waking us up. That doesn't mean that all his dirty business needs to get out there.

Plus, if they do something stupid and she gets pregnant, it shouldn't be that hard to figure out who the father is. It's not like we're allowed to have conjugal visits after all.

"Well, damn." says the girl sadly. "I was looking forward to a little bit of drama."

In the year 2040 of America, a distinguished gang that went by the name El Vatos started taking over the southern ring of the United States. It started off as an all Hispanic gang, but competing with other gangs got difficult, and because of that they started enlisting everyone who would join. This gang became a force to be reckoned with by the time 2050 hit, and by the time Panem took over, the gang was able to organize itself for the Capitol's use and become what we now call Peacekeepers. Our last Southern Tribute was a leader of this gang in a southern part of the state of Florida.

Prisoner number 0889S32311 Dominic McKnight. Charged with gang affiliation and assault and battery. Sentenced to two years in a juvenile detention unit. Not eligible for parole.

Dominic McKnight, 18

Southern Male

I get asked all the time why I joined a gang. If I'm totally honest, I was looking for acceptance. It's not something I grew up with. People underestimate the power of loneliness. They underestimate the idea that being trapped by yourself for extended periods of time can destroy a man. Can make him think weird things.

When I entered middle school, El Vatos saved me. For the first time in my life, I felt the acceptance that I'd been longing for so long. I had friends and people that were genuinely interested in me. I had a purpose in my life other than just going to school, and getting good grades.

If that means that I have to do some things that I'm not proud of, then so be it.

"We have a new order coming in tomorrow," says Squeeze as he slides the mail through the scanner that allows us to see if there are any inappropriate objects inside. We call him squeeze because he's in for murder. He would squeeze their throats until they died. He's also our number one trafficker for El Vatos. We run the mail room, and yeah, we might be a little hypocritical, but the C.O.s are scared to mess with us because they know that we have the biggest gang on the outside.

We also keep the violence down in prison.

"We have a pair of brass knuckles," says Squeeze as he reverses the treadmill that leads the packages into the large mail delivery hamper and then rips it open. Sure enough, there is a huge pair of brass knuckles. The C.O. walks over to the treadmill and rips open the package. Sure enough, a giant pair of brass knuckles sits in the package under a pair of socks.

"Well, they're foolish." says the C.O. looking at the name on the package. He reaches over to his walkie and pulls it up. "Dispatch this is Officer Ruben, inmate Jason Carson needs to be put in the hole. Inmate Jason Carson needs to be put in the hole."

He nods at us and then walks out of the room, and Squeeze and I can talk about the shipment coming in without using codes.

"So what's the inventory?" I ask.

"We've got a few units of marijuana and a bunch of heroine. The next three people on the rotation to sell are Carlo, Andre, and William." I developed a rotation schedule and that way our sellers are always walking around with contraband on them. Only the grunts get to sell the drugs, and since the warden cracked down on them and most of them are in solitary, we have to be careful with how we go about selling from now on.

"Alright, make sure you don't give it to them all at once, and to place the drugs in your cellmate belongings," I tell squeeze as we finish up scanning the last of the letters. "That way if we get caught-"

"The other person takes the fall," says Squeeze with a smile. "Yes, I know the plans, Bato."

"That's why you're my second in command, brother," I say as I shake his hand and then walk off. "Deliver the mail and then meet us in the cafeteria."

When I walk down the hallway, there is a sense of respect from the other inmates. I found a certain level of swagger when I joined El Vatos. My parents didn't understand that I was finally finding a place that I could thrive, that I could call my own. I'm only a few months away from getting parole, and then I am back at El Vatos doing what I do best.

Though my parents are disappointed and unhappy with the way my life is going, I can't help but feel proud of my accomplishments as I rose through the ranks. I never killed anyone. I never did anything unhonorable, well, I mean other than end up here. And if that football jackass didn't come at me the way he did, I wouldn't have to be in there.

"COUNT!" screams the C.O. as soon as I get into the cellblock. "You need to stand outside your cells! Let's go prisoners!"

Rhendee Ward, 16

Southern Female

"Alright inmates! Time to wake up!" screams the warden as I wake up and throw my feet off the bed. It's a little tricky to get out of bed this morning with all of the clankings of the cells as Officer Heartthrob kept coming into our cell to escort my cellmate to a "meeting."

"Inmate Ward, please walk with me," he says as he bangs up on the cell bars. "You have a visitor."

I squint my eyes out of confusion. I've never had a visitor in all my time here, so the fact that one is sitting there waiting for me right when I wake up is a little unsettling. "I haven't ever had a visitor," I say.

"I don't know why they'd want to meet you either." says the officer. "But you need to come and meet them."

"I don't have a choice?"

"Does it look like you have a choice?" he ask me annoyed.

I walk over to the exit of the cell and wait for him to unlock the gate. When he opens it up, he winks at my cellmate and then grabs me by my arm and begins to walk me to the visitor's section of the jail. When we get to the visitor section I turn to the right expecting him to follow but he yanks me hard to the left, and I wince.

"I didn't tell you to veer, inmate." says the guard annoyed.

"Well, you said I had a visitor," I say. "I just thought that we had, you know, to go to the visiting block," I say sarcastically.

"Listen, you little bitch," he says throwing me against the wall. I hit against the stone blocks hard and let a yelp out, and he quickly takes out his baton. "You think I don't know that you're walking around and talking shit about me? I will not go down for screwing your cellmate. Who do you think is going to believe you, a criminal, over me. Not to mention your visitor won't leave you here very much longer."

"Who is my visitor?" I whisper in fear as he is close to my face.

"My cousin," he says as she grabs me by my arm and continues to lead me towards the cell block G, which is restricted to only the evilest of inmates. When we arrive there and standing in the hall is a Hispanic woman in her late twenties. She is wearing a dark blue dress, and she smiles lightly as she sees me.

"Hello, Rhendee." she says, "My name is Kate Felix. I'm the secretarial assistant to the President of the United States, Ophelia Veyne." she says. "It's a pleasure to meet you."

"Where do I know you from?"

"You don't, Rhendee," she says matter of factly. "But I know all about you. You're in here for petty theft and vandalism. Tell me, Rhendee, what do you think of why I am here?"

"That's what I'm hoping you're going to explain to me?" I say confused.

"Watch your mouth, inmate." says the C.O. "My cousin worked hard to get where she is in life. You won't disrespect her for anything. You got it-"

"Oscar, that's quite alright. I'll handle my own."

"Sorry," he says bowing his head.

"Now, Rhendee, you're here because the President herself has chosen you for a special prison reform that will put you into your own cell with people that were also selected. You'll stay there until you've served your sentence."

I can't explain what is going on, but I feel something is fishy. There is something about the way she's looking at me, and the meeting in a separate place from normal that sets off all of my red flags.

"Can I decline-"

There is a sharp prick in my neck, and I turn around and see the C.O. smiling at me with a rude grimace. I start to fall backward into a haze when I feel strong arms come in and wrap around me. They lower me down to the ground, and I see that Oscar is smiling wildly at Kate.

"Thanks for taking care of my little problem, Prima," says Oscar

"I didn't do it for you, Oscar. Get her to the van." and the world goes dark.

Dominic McKnight, 18

Southern Tribute

Carlo was caught with some contraband items during the day. He busted half of our order with one look from the C.O. I'm waiting outside the warden's office to negotiate with him on our situation. I've been sitting here for five minutes waiting, and I'm growing a little frustrated. My time is a valuable thing.

"The warden will see you now." says his assistant as she pokes her head out of the door. I get up and walk into the room and see him sitting at the desk with a bag of drugs on his desk. He looks at me with a sad face as I take a seat and sit down across from him.

"Dominic I must say, this is getting out of hand." he says.

"I'm not quite sure what you're talking about, Warden," I say. "I do know that my boy, Carlo, is currently sitting in the hole waiting for the time to get out. I need him out for certain reasons, and I'm here to ask you nicely one time to allow him out of the hole."

"I don't think I can do that." he says.

"Well, then, I guess I'll just have to make a call to my friends on the outside. You know, the ones that are a part of El Vatos, the one that gave me this tattoo." I say as I raise my shirt sleeve and the sign of a lion is on my forearm. "I don't have time to play games."

"Are you threatening me, Mr. McKnight?"

"I guess the only way for you to find out is to not let Carlo out of the hole. You have a daughter right? What's her name? Gabrielle? I would hate to see something happen to her, Warden." I snap. "I'll see Carlo in my cell, and if this happens again, I'll be passing weapons through the mail service."

"I can just take you out of the mail room." he says standing up from his desk.

"I don't think Gabrielle will like that, Mr. Warden."

I walk out of the room as a Hispanic woman is walking to the room. She is carrying a file folder in it, and upon seeing me, she raises her eyebrows and opens up the file. "Are you Dominic McKnight?" she ask me.

"Depends on who wants to know," I say.

"I'm Kate Felix. I'm the secretarial assistant to the President of the United States, Ophelia Veyne. I'm here to talk to the warden and you about moving you to a new prison that the President is doing. It has experimental values in it, and you'd stay there until the end of your sentence."

"I'd rather not bother with it," I say as I walk past her.

She turns to follow me down the hallway. "Mr. McKnight, I am afraid you don't have a choice," she says.

"Bull shit," I say turning to her. "El Vatos stationed me in this place through the court system. I won't worry about being moved into a new system. El Vatos won't stand for it."

"Unfortunately your little boy band doesn't hold much pull against the President of the United States," she says. "Coming here is just a cordial mannerism for your warden. You're moving with or without his permission."

"Listen, lady, I'll tell you again-"

There is a prick in the back of my neck, and I spin around to see a man that is in a black tuxedo standing behind me. He is holding a syringe, and I start to get dizzy as he quickly gets handcuffs on me. I hear the clicking of the lady's high heels as she walks towards me and looks at the guy in the black suit.

"I'll go get these signed by the warden," she says with a quick tone, and walks away from me and the man in the suit.

I've decided that I'm going to start being more secretive with where I'm writing this. I was under the illusion that a common looking person writing on the beach would be a good disguise for a story that could send this country into a tailspin, but even the shore has eyes here in Panem.

I hope that you don't take the rest of these stories lightly. For the story you're reading is one of great sadness, and the fact that you're even reading this puts you in great danger. We've gotten a quarter of the way through the tributes, who will we meet next time?

Until then,

Anonymous.

Sorry this is later than I intended it to be. I was busy with school, and then I hurt my neck, and I couldn't hold it in the correct position to type, and now my neck is on fire because I didn't want to go longer than a week without updating.

Rhendee is in the south because it was either that or I didn't get all the west girls. And I liked them. I'm writing about a fictional USA I can make my own :D ok?

Nonetheless, we've completed the southern tributes, and we will be moving on to the next. I'll have a poll on my profile where you can vote for who your favorite tribute is.

Also, Ansley (CreativeAJL) and Jenna (Betttyy) have their own SYOT's that they are trying to fill. Both of which look super promising, and I can say that I've already subbed to both of them! You should too!

Keep it classy,

Caleb