I like this one, because I always wanted to know more about the poor guy. Hope I did him justice. I'd really like to apologize for the REALLY late update, I took a break from writing after finishing my story The Pied Piper for a while. Soo my Peeta story will be up soon, writing that currently, but for the past half an hour I wrote this because i really needed to post a chapter. So...enjoy. And review please that would be awesome thanks.

Disclaimer: I don't own the Hunger Games series, so yeah. Don't think I do.

CRIPPLED FOOT BOY- DISTRICT 10

Life kind of sucks when you're reaped. It sucks about three times more when you're like me. Someone to be disgraced in the Hunger Games. Always needing help. Always there but never noticed. Never cared for in the world of the artificial. A cripple.

See, when I turned twelve, I knew automatically that if I was reaped, there would be nothing left of me. Zip. Zilch. No chance for the cripple. The Capitol will pity me, moon over and want to help me! The rest of them will laugh hysterically when they see me die. Ha, hahaha. I'm not laughing. You see me laughing? So stop.

I just hate it all! Sure I'll fight, I'll try. If it comes to a race, I'm dead. But I've known that for days. You know the hemp I got? Well, I found a rock, and started carving at meals. This is kind of morbid, I know, but…I made myself a gravestone. Not really a gravestone, more like a memorial. Does that make sense? It's a rock. Anyway, uh, I'll keep it in my pocket. It's mighty small, but you know I can carve that tiny. I wrapped and tied it with my hemp. Smells like home. My escort hates it.

I was all about keeping a low profile. Hoping no one would notice me. Well, yay. It worked. All thanks to District Twelve. And my disgusted stylist who put me in a full body cow suit except for my head. Idiot. No one noticed me or my partner, who was furious that we never get enough credit for what we do, no training, no glory, blah blah blah. I didn't listen, I was routing on the opposite outcome. I was fine with not standing out all the time and not getting all the glamour…except for the dying part. That's not too cool. What the heck am I saying, it's horrible! Ugh, what is wrong with me?

No one even listened for my interview. Great. Absolutely fabulous. I even saw the girls (guys, too, it was weird) pulling out mirrors and nail filers from their bags and primping themselves while I spoke. The only people paying attention were Caesar and the camera people. Poor them.

District Twelve, again, stole the show. I was overjoyed. The Careers hated them. They would be paying attention on killing them, and not choosing the easy pickings, the runts of the litter (A.K.A me). And the stupid star-crossed lover thing? Hilarious. And totally fake. You could see it in her eyes. But hey, anything to get the Capitol's eyes on them and off of their mirrors with me in the reflection.

So, I got a three in training. That kind of sucked. But I don't know how to use any weapons! Dad never let me get a real job out in the pens, I stayed and helped the tailor, oh ho! Anyone need stitches? I'll stitch your clothes right up, yeah I'm a threat!

But, you know, it was meant to be. Everything happens for a reason. And now I see justice coming on the brute who killed me, sticking his sword through my chest on the first day. She killed him. Out of mercy. I wonder if their star-crossed lover thing is real now. There is no faux love in her eyes anymore. But as the arrow entered his head, it was like a huge weight was lifted off of me. Off of all of us.

Thank you Katniss Everdeen, for avenging us. For avenging me.