Tyler Kroll (D5)
"DIE, DIE, DIE!!!"
The stupid lamb had wandered away from me for the last time. Always wandering off and making me chase it. Well, no more. I grinned as the blood poured from its head as I smashed a rock into it. All the blood. It was just so warm and thick. And red. Especially against the white of the little lamb. The red was an improvement. White is for sissies.
The lamb would be good eating this morning. It wouldn't be hard to sneak it home. If any of the scrawny Peacekeepers saw me, I'd kill them too. They didn't scare me with their fancy uniforms and big guns. I could snap them all like twigs if I wanted to. They were all scared of me anyway. The other workers wouldn't say anything either. They were terrified of me.
Serves them right anyway. They are nothing to me now, and I would kill them if I wanted too. They could've helped me as a kid, but they didn't. They were too concerned about their rebellion, which failed. They just stood by and let my no good father beat me to a pulp after a night of drinking. Me, I used to be a good little lamb. Well, I grew up under his hand, and I became a beast. And, quite frankly, it's a lot of fun.
It's my father's fault and the town's fault I'm like this. My father for beating me, and the town for doing nothing about it. Well, look at what you get.
Anyway, after I became a man, I became the ruler of the roost. My father is the scrawny thing cowering in the corner, and I'm the monster that put him there. I give what I got from him. I give it right back to him.
I got home with my bloody hands and my bloody meat. I cleaned it outside, threw away the head and stuff, and went inside to cook it. I wasn't a good cook, but meat was meat. If dear old dad gave me grief about it, I'd backhand him or something.
He was inside watching T.V., with his usual mason jar of black market, home-made brew. I never started with the stuff. Didn't need it. I got my addicting feel from hitting and killing.
He is so disgusting. He's lost most of his hair, and what he has sticks out in tuffs on his head. Most of his teeth are missing, and what he's got is black. Giant beer gut. Hollow, blood shot, black eyes. And they say he used to be handsome. Handsome must be the new ugly.
My old teacher, Mrs. Newton, she used to say I took after him in looks. She was the only person I ever liked, the only one who ever cared. Mrs. Newton, she taught me the only schooling I know. She could get me to behave. She also taught my parents. She used to say that my father was alright, but lost it when my mother died. I would tell her that was no excuse for beating his kid, and she would agree.
Mrs. Newton got killed by a Peacekeeper two years ago. I tried to tell her not to get mixed up with the rebellion. It got her publically executed. That's when I started acting the way I do now. I started working out harder. I started my pain and bloodlust addicition when I killed the Peacekeeper that killed her. To satisfy my bloodlust, I started hurting my father. Mrs. Newton would be disappointed, but I don't care, much.
My father gave me a sneering grin when I came in. He used to insult me a lot, but I don't talk to him and he don't talk to me now. It's better for him that way.
He's watching more stuff about the Hunger Games. He seems obsessed with these new Games. I guess he's hoping that I go in. I don't really care if I go in or not. It would be fun killing those puny tributes. Well, we'll find out who goes in later today. Who gets the fun of killing other people.
I show up to the reaping late because I can. The scrawny kids in front of me are cowering away from me. I wonder how many I could kill before the fat mayor shuts up. I would pick up that ginger with the glasses up by his neck and swing him into the other boys to knock them down. Then I would grab one of the Peacekeeper's guns and start smashing heads open. I wouldn't shoot them, because that would never be as satisfying.
A very pale and white woman, the escort person, is talking now. She isn't very loud, but she is very creepy. Has very white hair and glazed over white-blue eyes. I wonder if her blood is white too. She isn't as pure as she looks. She is a Capital person after all.
She calls the girl name first. "Ebony Storm," she says in a bloodthirsty and low tone. I knew she was enjoying this.
A mouse of a girl walks on the stage. She has long brown hair and large green eyes that can be seen from the back of the crowd. She wouldn't be that hard to kill, probably won't last a day.
The escort is pulling out the male name. "Tyler Kroll," she says with a viscous smile. She's won't smile when I wring her neck.
I shove people out of my way as I walk to the stage. I put a wicked grin on my face so everyone will know what they can expect out of me. Death to all.
The escort looks at me with wide eyes as I step on stage. She visibly starts to shake as I shake her hand. Or rather, I try to break all the bones in her hand. She clutches it when I let go, and tries, and fails, not to let the pain show on her face.
I turn to the puny mouse girl named Ebony. I'm easily twice her size and weight, yet she stares at me with her large eyes and is not scared of me. She looks like is ready to take on the world. Huh, I'll have to fix that. I grip her hand as well, and I know it hurts her, but it doesn't show on her face. Well, she's a strong mouse, but also a dumb one if she's not scared of me.
In the large holding area, I step to the side and stare at Ebony's family and friends maliciously. She hugs a boy called Emmett that looks like her a bit, they must be twins. They hold hands as she says good bye to various school friends.
As I observe them, my father comes in. He's learing at me, and I can tell he's drunk and happy I'm going in the Games.
"You gonna miss me boy," he slurs.
"No, cause I'll be joining you in hell soon." I smash my fist into his face for his good bye present. I think of the lamb as I leap on top of him and start strangling him. I enjoy the feeling of feeling his life and breathe leave his pathetic shell.
I make sure he's good and dead before I look up. Ebony and her friends and family look freaked out. The Peacekeepers don't say a thing, nor do they look at me, as they drag my father out. One does, and has the guts to look me in the eye and say, "Please, the next time you kill, do it in the arena."
I toss a smirk over to Ebony. Most of her friends and her twin have left. She's alone with a boy named Evan. He is putting a necklace on her and kisses her softly. Jealousy fills me. I have never had any love from anyone, but that mouse Ebony has plenty of people who love her.
Well who cares, I think. She'll be dead soon anyway, and her family and friends will mourn her. No one will mourn me, and I won't have the distraction of them when I enter the games. I am stronger than her and anyone I meet, cause I have faced it all, and I can kill. I will kill and I will win. I will, cause I will enjoy every second of murdering that little girl standing alone.
Well, that was a fun chapter to write. Not a lot of lovey dovey. I'll try to get D6 out later today, but I still want reviews for what you think of Tyler and Ebony. So press the review button. (Puss in Boots from Shrek face) Please…