Thankyou again for your support! I honestly need a lot of reviews to support me. Anyway, i hope you enjoy the story!

The escort slides across the stage, a fake grin plastered across his face. He clutches the reaping ball, sighing heavily while the rest of the crowd looks at him intensively. He was always the escort of the children whom annually, gives him the desolation of failure, never the honor. Always, the diminished looking children, hungry, terrified, and weak, the thought was depressing. His large, meaty hands take grasp of a small paper, shaking.

"Beri Langsly," his voice was unpleasant, almost like a scowl beneath his plastic grin. The rims of his eyes could almost break by the sight of the small girl. She climbs up the forlorn stairs of the stage, shaking frantically, looking down until a stream of tears cover her freckled face. She takes her fifth step and trips down to the edge of the redwood stairs. "Ahww." She chokes at a heavy District 3 accent as she falls back to the stony cement.

By the speed of a second, tiny whips of laughter begin to swallow her quiet sobs. Their voices grow louder, colder, until her whole face was red as a ruby that she needed to cave her face for protection for more humiliation. She gets up to her feet, ignoring the crowd in front. She knew she was weak but a death sentence, a trip to the games of suicide wasn't something that can change that. She was poor, shy and unintelligent. And most of all, she did not want to die in the television sets of Panem.

She looks for her family and finds them there, spread across the square, whimpering tiny sobs for loosing their dearest daughter. Then she turns to the stage again, trying to unleash little confidence that may at least help her. She takes the hand of the escort and he shoots her hands to the air in lack of interest. "Beri Langsly as female tribute!"

The crowd claps, in mixed emotions. Some, crossing their arms, in pity of the small girl, others, trying to hold their tiny laughs while others stare at her incredulously. But Terk Russell, stands there in the thought of his possible death crouching out the door by that reaping ball. His knees shakes but he tries to keep his head up for a façade of condescension and superiority. Someone nudges him, unwavering hatred beneath his dark eyes, "One day, you will be that one up in the stage and we all will be just waiting for you to die," he says in threat.

Did he know that boy? Then a flashback comes to him, he was the son whose father he ordered to kill a few years back. But he is the mayor's son and he was harassing him. He tries to act as if he did not hear anything and turn to the escort with his sad, owl eyes, "It's the boy's turn."

He looks at the ball at such intensity, praying he is not the boy whose name scribbled in the paper. The man on the stage withdraws his hands and slowly announces a name deeply familiar to him. "Terk Russell!" The audience stifles gasps and laughter, surely, no one is this happy in watching someone die but in the case of the arrogant, self-centered boy, everyone was happy. Except for him and the mayor.

"What?" The mayor chokes in disbelief; his excitement ebbing away and a disarray of thoughts occupy his head. He was a powerful man, but he could not stop his beloved son to enter from the deathly games. Terk slowly walks forward, he sees the boy who had talked to him a few minutes ago, grinning wide in satisfaction and so is the others around him. He climbs up the stage, holding back the tears that never in his life fall down. His polished face, now a mess, "Terk Russell as male tribute!"

He is scared, his patronizing disposition now left him and replaced by fear of a mouse. He feels exposed, his crown, now like broken glass. He was now the prey.

What do you think of the characters?