*LESTER BLACK'S CREATOR PLEASE PM ME!*

Hehe, i am beast, 2 like 3 chapters in a week :D

So no guy because he's a bloodbath. And Lucy was really fun I like writing children so it was good there. And the next chapter will be of alliances!

Both from district 6 are blood bath so…PLEASE tell me if (after all the reapings are done) you want to change who you're in an alliance with! If there is anything else you guys would need to know, PLEASE tell me in this chapter, and it will be added Thanks guys

PLEASE REVIEW!


Lucy Jesha-18 POV

The screaming of Clair wakes me up. I grumble a little as I sit up, brushing my black hair from my face. I move off of my bed, my feet dragging as I get to her crib. She was curled in on herself, eyes clenched shut and tears falling quickly. I lightly put my hand on her shoulder and he eyes flash open, tears still falling.

"Daddy!" She yells, sitting up straight. I catch her before she falls back and easily pick her up from the crib. Soon I would have to move her into my bed. She hugged closely to me and I hushed her lightly.

"Clair is ok," I say gently.

"Daddy hurt!" She pleads with me as she struggles to stop her tears.

"Momma knows, but it's not bad. Remember, Daddy in has gone to take a long break," I mumbled.

"When he come back?" Clair asked whipping her eyes.

"Not for a long time," I tell her. Not ever.

"Oh," She leans her head on my shoulder.

"Wanna get some breakfast?" I ask her. She nods, still not looking up.

I slip from our shared room and head into our small kitchen. I open our small fridge, which was really more of an ice box, and pull out food. The normal really, milk and eggs, and I also grab a banana, strawberries, and a box of cereal. I pull out a pan and turn on the flame of my gas stove and put 3 eggs in it. I pour 2 cups of milk and pour some over the cereal which I had put into a bowl. I carefully sit Clair onto our small table and cut the banana and a couple of strawberries and putting it onto the cereal. I go over to the stove and work with the eggs scrambling them together quickly and putting them onto a plate and then back to the table.

Clair picked at my cereal, more or less stealing all of the strawberries, and when the eggs cooled ate that too. She sips at the milk, spilling a little on her chin. I eat the remaining food and carefully place the bowls into the sink. I would do them later.

"Let's get dressed!" I say excitedly, though I don't really want to. She looks up brightly and nods sliding off the table. And rushing back to our room. I follow with a laugh, helping her onto my bed.

"What should Clair wear?" I ask her. She ponders for a moment.

"Red," She declares easily. I nod and pull out a red dress and a black ribbon for her hair. She giggles a little as I help her out of her pj's, which is just one of my old shirts. I help her into the red dress that I had bought when she was only 1. When she stops moving around, I tie the back and put the ribbon in her brown hair. She hates it, I know she must, but she leaves it in.

I then get my black dress from my closet. It was my normal dress that I always wore. The halter stop dress fell to my calves. It was tight around my bust and stomach, but flared out around my hips. I tied the top into a careful bow around my neck.

I brushed out my hair and waterfall braid it carefully. Clair watches me quietly, as if trying to remember everything I do. I clip it in place and then grab my sandals and carefully slip them on, along with Clair's shoes, and then put on her small jacket. I grab my yellow and red leather jacket and slip it on too.

It's too big, doesn't even remotely fit me. But it's his. Ryan's.

Clair was our daughter. She was slightly a mistake, when Ryan had gotten a little beer as a party. I was 14, 15 in a couple days, and he was 17. I was amazed he would even look at me, and when he asked if I wanted to spend the night… I just about died.

A couple of weeks later I woke up with morning sickness. I found him and instantly wanted to know if he would be part of the child's life. My parents were dead, and my sister raised me, but she was only 17 too.

And then we dated. He was the best, always helping and giving me money I wasn't used to having. He married me when I was 7 months pregnant, and when Clair was born he looked at me and said the words that always ring in my head today.

"I don't know how it's possible, but I think I might love her as much as I love you."

He bought us a house, the one I now stood in, and we lived happily. My sister was upset with me for moving in with him, but didn't really protest. She grew and we laughed, living happily.

I should have known it was to perfect.

It was a few weeks after Clair's first birthday. I was waiting in the square hoping I was safe. I was.

My sister wasn't.

I cried when I heard her name. But I didn't volunteer.

And then Ryan Brokewood was called. I wished someone would have said the 2 words that could have changed it all. But no one did. He was reaped. And I was left alone with a 1 year old that didn't understand what the Hunger Games were.

He almost won. It was down to the final 2, against District 7 girl. Ripper, I think her name was.

Her name fit her.

They fought for hours it seemed, but it was most likely only 30 minutes. He was on her stomach about to stab her in the chest. I was dancing and screaming and crying with Clair, happy he would come home. But then she pointed at the screen with a cry.

I looked back just to hear the cannon.

District 7 was that years Victor. She had stabbed him in arm with a poison dart. The dart made his skin sizzle and fall off. When the Hovercraft took him away, there was only still skin on his forehead and shoulder. He was gone.

Clair had nightmares of that. Still did. It was most likely what she had screamed from this morning.

We stepped outside and headed to the square carefully. I held hands with Clair as we walked, making sure she didn't trip into the thick puddles. When we got there I stood in line and Clair clung to my leg. They pricked my finger and asked a couple of questions about Clair before I could go in.

I picked her up when we got to my section, and I saw a mutual friend standing a few people over.

"Hey," I called to Hope. She looked over and walked over to me, a small smile as she looks at Clair. We didn't speak. She was a friend on Ryan, not really a friend of mine.

"Welcome! Welcome!" A man with neon yellow corkscrew curls and slightly orange tanned skin called. "It's time to pick our tributes! Let's do this a little different this year, boy's first!" He stuck his hand into the bowl. "Jest Gustoo!"

A scrawny red head moved from the crowd. He fidgets and twitches on stage and I have to feel bad. But I do compare him to Ryan. When he was up there he stood tall and just stared at me. Wearing the jacket I wore now.

"And for the girl…Lucy Jesha!" I scream. Its short but I do. Clair looks up surprised and I hand her to Hope slowly. I move from the crowd, holding the jacket tighter to me, trying to pretend he was alive. Like he was guiding me. The escort gives me a sad look but the mayor still reads his speech. The world keeps moving.

They finish and I shake hands with the weakling to my right. He was only 12 by the looks of it, and I thought of how cruel I was being. I didn't care.

We move into the Justice building. I get into my room and start cursing. I scream and punch a hole in the thin drywall. Hope opens the door as I examine my work.

"I'll take care of her until you come back ok?" Hope says. I nod. I take Clair in my lap, gently rocking her in my arms. She looks at me with her bright goldish colored eyes. I kiss her forehead and she closes her eyes. Hope just sits there, not sure what to do.

"Momma," Clair says suddenly.

"Yes?"

"You to see daddy?" She asks a crease forms between her eyebrows. I stare at her for a moment.

"Maybe, I don't think so," I mumble. She nods, and snuggles a little closer to me. I hug her tightly and that's how I sit, waiting for the Peacekeeper to take her away.

And they do. They pull her and Hope out of the room and leave me alone. They might expect someone else to come in, but they won't. Everyone loved Ryan, not me his little 'sex slave.'

I hold in my tears as I just wait. I don't want to cry, but it might give me an advantage. Though it's doubtful. I sniff at the jacket, just trying to smell him again, but I have smelled the thing so much, it now only smells of me. But I still hold it over me carefully, pretending it was him.

But what am I kidding?

I'll see him soon enough.