Tribute Room #12

There was a bloodcurdling scream.

He heard a bloodcurdling scream, and even though it was muffled by the walls of his room, he still heard it perfectly. It was high pitched and girly. He also recognized who it came from. Ashton.

Ryan placed his palms to his head before he let it hang with despondency. He knew what it was about. It was about what he had done last night in the hopes of forgiveness. Obviously it hadn't worked, otherwise that reaction from Ashton wouldn't of happened.

The teen let the tears from his eye flow freely before the door to his door had opened with a bang.

"What did you do!" His escort shouted with confusion that was also laced with anger.

"Asked for forgiveness." Ryan cried out. "It obviously didn't work."

"Get out of that room and tell me exactly what-" The escort started, but stopped when she caught sight of Ryan. And when she did, she let out a scream that was much less intense than Ashton's, but no less horrified. A higher pitched and a lot less dignified one at that.

Ryan's face was battered and bleeding. It looked like he had been beaten with a mace. The right side of his face was intensely swollen and his right eye looked like a large, dark plum had formed in its place. His nose was bleeding two thick pythons of blood and thick red was coming out of his mouth. In addition to that, there were lacerations leaking red from his face and lip.

It was a grisly sight, and one that the Capitol woman hadn't expected to see first thing in the morning.

The night before, Ryan had thought of what he had done to his district partner, and at first was infuriated with himself. But that rage quickly turned into extreme sadness mixed with anger. And because of that, the teenager hated himself. He hated how he was feeling and hated his actions. As a result, Ryan had started to beat himself up. With his right hand, which was now bruised, lacerated, and in absolute agony, repeatedly punched himself in the face. Hard.

He wanted to feel the physical pain in an attempt to rid himself of the emotional pain he was feeling. And while it worked as a distraction, it only worked for so long before he started to feel that emotional pain again. So he would continue to hit himself and hate what he had done to Ashton. He also did it for another, bigger reason that was even greater than his need to feel less emotional pain.

It didn't take long before Ryan started to lose his touch on reality and he started to hear voices. Those voices told him that he'd end up alone in the world and that nobody liked him. That nobody loved him. That everybody hated him and that there was nothing he could do to change that. They said all those hurtful things, and more.

He believed them, but didn't want to. The feeling was so strong that he felt as if his entire being was being crushed.

He didn't want to be alone and hated. He wanted forgiveness. So as the voices and feelings tortured him, he grabbed a black marker and went into his district partner's room and started to write on her walls as she slept in her bed. He didn't wake her at the time because he simply hadn't noticed that she was there.

He scribbled the same phrase over and over again until there was no more surface area to write on. The walls that Ryan had repeatedly wrote on said: 'I'm sorry. Please forgive me.'

Now he discovered that it was a stupid idea. A stupid idea that wouldn't work. She wouldn't forgive him. Why would she? Scaring her with all that writing on her walls and the actions of earlier that day. He hated himself for what he had done, and there was no turning back the events, no matter what he wanted.

She appeared at the doorway and stood behind the escort, and the look of shock and confusion on her face confirmed what Ryan had thought. She wasn't going to forgive him.

"What happened to you?" Ashton asked as she looked at her injured district partner with bewilderment.

"Punishment." Ryan sobbed.

Why would she forgive me anyway? After what I've done, why would she even think of forgiving me? She'll leave me, just as everyone else has.

And even if he hadn't done that, he figured that she would leave him anyway. After all, they were from two different worlds.

She was from the Merchant area, he was from the Seam. She had everything that the district had to offer, he had the worst the district could offer. She was sane, and he was crazy.

She was an appealing young teenager that had beautiful blonde hair, large but gentle blue eyes, and healthy ivory skin that was free of scars, gashes, burns, and other types of injuries. And though he had heard the comments from the Capitol saying that she was lacking in the assets category, Ryan thought that it suited her.

Meanwhile, he was tall and boney with thick and extremely coarse black hair that was now cut so that it didn't hang over his shoulders and arms. His Seam grey eyes looked harsh even in best of conditions with dark purple rings around them, and his olive skin was nothing special. His yellow and crocked teeth didn't help things as well.

And if there was more to be said about his appearance, it was the injuries that were under his clothes. When the prep-team had unclothed him, they were horrified to see the condition his body was in. The abuse that it had to put up with.

The escort had said to Ryan that he should try to keep up his hygiene and cover up those purple eye sags with make-up, but appearances were one of the last things on his mind.

"Punishment for what?" Ashton asked.

"Punishment for what I've done." Ryan answered. "Hitting you. Yelling at you. Writing on your wall. I'm sure you can name more."

"I can certainly name some-" The escort started, but was stopped by Ashton elbowing her in the side.

"Why do you punish yourself like that?"

"Why do the peacekeepers punish us like they do?" Asked Ryan. "Because that's what they do. Its what I do."

"Well... You shouldn't do that to yourself."

"Because?" Ryan asked.

"Because..." Ashton started. Paused. Then continued. "Because I don't want to see you like that." That response shocked Ryan a little, along with the escort, though to a lesser degree. "Honestly. The Capitol just fixed you up after that encounter with Falco, and here you do... This to yourself. It's worse than what he did."

"I've been hurt worse than what he did to me." Ryan told her.

"I can see that." Ashton said as she walked past her escort and stopped in front of her district partner. "And I think I know why you did what you did. So while I still don't like what you did to me, I will forgive you so long as- AHHH!" Ashton cried out in surprise as Ryan embraced her in a tight hug.

"Thank you." Ryan told her as tears continued to stream down his face, smearing blood and water on Ashton's shirt. The tears weren't from sadness anymore, they were of a different emotion. A better emotion. "Thank you so much."

"What... What are you..." Ashton stuttered in confusion. "It's just forgiving you. It's n... Not like something miraculous happened."

"Something miraculous did happen." Ryan told her.

Ryan liked this feeling. Happiness. Of all the feelings that he felt, it was his second favourite one, and the one that he experienced the second least. After all the rage and sorrow he had felt for a great amount of time, what he now felt was pure bless.

He knew that he wasn't a good person. Never was a good person. He knew that his parents would agree with that statement. He imagined what his mother was feeling after their meeting in the justice building. He had told her that he hated her. That she had left him to die. That she didn't care about him. That she didn't even try to save him.

It wasn't until she had left that his rage had subdued and that he had realized that she was really leaving him. He then tried to tell her that he was sorry, that he didn't really mean any of the things that he had said. But she was long gone by then. The brief slip of reality that came with that didn't help him in the slightest. The laughing, the hurtful words, the delusions that came with it... The only reason Ryan knew that he had lost his touch on reality was because the peacekeeper inside the justice building was wondering who he was talking to when he hadn't let anyone in, only for Ryan to suddenly find that the voices and his thoughts were once again his own.

Having Ashton forgive him was something that really meant something to him. It made him feel a little less empty. A little less like a bad person. But he knew that that wasn't going to change that he was still a horrible person.

Still, Ashton hadn't abandoned him. And at the moment, that was all he cared about.

Capitol Training Room

Dumb.

If there was such a word to describe what he was feeling, it was that. After a day of learning how to use the combat tools of the trade properly, or at the very least, better, he had forgotten a lot of what he had been told.

The hand to hand combat techniques that had been taught to him had been lost, the way to throw a spear properly, all of those had been lost when he had tried to do them. And when he had tried the survival technique of trying to start a fire, he had been unable to do what he had been able to accomplish the day before.

He didn't feel good about himself, and when Trail Calloway looked to his right, he saw the District Three guy, someone that he thought shouldn't of known about building flames as well as someone from Eleven, easily make a fire from flint and steel, he felt even more stupid.

Trail tried to justify it by saying that Nick had experience with flames because of the burn scars that littered his face, but at the same time, his mind was telling him of other methods that Nick could of gotten burned. A factory accident, or something like that.

And though Trail knew of the condition that he had been diagnosed with, he thought that he should of been able to at least remember how to properly counter someone that had taken hold of him from behind. It was something that was bound to happen to him in the arena, but not to his surprise, he couldn't remember how to do it properly.

And maybe he could of remembered how to build a camouflaged shelter properly if he hadn't concentrated his attention of that curly haired girl from Ten when she screamed and bashed her fists on that trainer. That, and other useless things that caught his attention.

That guy from One that kept on flipping tables and chairs, that guy from Nine who kept on falling asleep only to wake up suddenly when they were practicing traps together, that perfectionist girl from Three. All distractions.

And if the outside stimuli wasn't enough, there were his thoughts that were constantly bombing him from within. Maybe if he paid attention to the trainer instead of thinking about what he was going to do in that situation or that situation then he felt he would of learned better.

It was just like back home. He would get distracted with anything and everything that caught his attention, which was just about anything. A sound. An interesting sight. A thought. It caused him to work slowly, if he managed to work at all.

In fact, the only reason he still had work back in Eleven was because of his father. His father was there to guide him, to get him out of his own world, to help him keep on track.

He found if funny that he preferred working in the fields than going to school, when others would prefer the opposite. But school was too hard for him. He would end up forgetting assignments that he had finished, if he had remembered to do them in the first place. He wouldn't be able to concentrate on what the teacher was saying, finding the bird that flew by the window caught his attention more, even if he was trying really had to learn. And when the other kids talked, he couldn't even begin to work on his own work.

Eventually he had lost so much school supplies that he had decided to quit school at the age of fourteen, which wasn't that unusual. After all, kids had quit at an earlier age than him, if they went at all. And besides that, he had lasted longer than his teachers had expected him to.

Trail sighed as he thought of how much strain he was putting on his family by forgetting anything and everything that was important and how he wished he could be better for them. Maybe if I wasn't such a dumbass I could actually make my parents proud. He thought as he suddenly remembered that he was in the middle of trying to make a camouflaged shelter that was going badly.

He stared at his haphazardly made shelter that looked like it was falling apart. Trail looked at the mixture of wood, moss, and leaves before he picked up another stick to try and make it not so unbalanced. Trail placed the stick under a section of the shelter before the entire structure collapsed.

"Ha!" A voice cried out. "Fucking dumbass!"

Trail recognized that voice. It belonged to Thor Houghton, the guy from District Two.

Trail had seen him practicing on the traps, camouflage, and weapons, when he wasn't harassing everyone that is. And it wasn't just his fellow tributes that he was harassing, it was the adults as well. Just like he had seen when he had first came down to the Capitol training room, he had picked a fight with the head instructor, and while he hadn't fought anyone else in that time, he also seemed to want to have a fight.

Just ignore him. Trail told himself. Don't bother with him. It's what he wants.

Trail gathered up the items needed for his shelter to try again. He started to try and build his shelter again, but the words of Thor Houghton broke through his concentration. Soon, all he could concentrate on was Thor Houghton's insults. He couldn't hear anything else. He couldn't focus on anything else. He couldn't even think about anything else. He had became hyper focused on the antagonist that was bothering him. "I thought Eleven's were supposed to be good at building shit shelters! I guess you're an exception because your brain's fucked!"

Trail's hands began to shake as he tried to get his attention on something else. Unfortunately, he was hooked and the line was not releasing. "Maybe you should invest in learning how to use a knife properly! Save us the trouble to having to kill you again after your botched up suicide!"

Ignore him! Trail told himself. Just try and focus on the- "But I guess that might be too much trouble for even you! I mean, animals know how to at least kill! But I guess your just a devolved, retarded, waste of space, black monkey from Eleven!"

Trail couldn't take it anymore. All those insults had added up, and while he wasn't a violent person, he had had a temper. He had learned to control it, but that didn't mean that he still didn't have a problem from time to time. And one of those times was now.

"And what about you!" He yelled back, turning towards Thor, who was casually leaning against the wall next to the survival station. "You Capitol lapdog! Why you so pissed? Didn't get your daily quota of Capitol semen in your mouth? Or did you not get fucked in the ass hard enough?"

Thor's face turned from a toothy smile to more than a little sour at Trail's response. Still, Thor didn't advance any closer to the boy, but Trail was planning to do that wether or not Thor did it first or not.

"I'm going to let those slide because, and only because I have a proposal for you, baldy." The boy from the lapdog district replied with a sneer. "You can't survive in the arena the way you are. So do the first smart thing you'll ever do in your short days here. Join me. Work with me in the arena."

"And why would I ever want to do that?" Trail asked as he glared back at Thor. "If I remember right, you started the first fight here."

"And that should show you that I'm not afraid to get down and dirty. And besides, would you rather have me on your side, or some skinny bitch like Anna or a pussy like Carver?"

And just like that, Thor was shoved to the ground from behind. Trail looked at the scene in surprise as his hyper focus broke and he could hear what was going on in the world around him again. What interested him the most though was that Carver was the one holding a downed Thor on the floor and tying his limbs together with rope. Thor fought back, but even with his sturdy five foot eight frame, he was no match for a man that was bigger than him in every physical way.

Before Trail knew it, the District Two guy had his hands tied behind his back, his legs were tied together, and he was flopping around like an overly large, overturned beetle.

"A Pussy am I?" Carver growled at the tied up boy below him. "Last time we meet, I remember leaving you stuffed inside a garbage can." Carver then picked the boy from Two up with his burly arms and stuffed him ass first into a tall, metal, cylinder tin can. He did it in such a way that Thor's hands were inside the garbage can below his butt, making it impossible for him to free his arms. "See you get out of that."

"Oh I see!" Thor raged at him, violently wiggling around inside the trash bin. "Running away again! Coward!"

"You all right there buddy?" Carver asked the smaller boy, ignoring the teenager in the trash can.

"Yeah." Trail answered, looking at Thor more than his rescuer. "Thanks, I didn't want to be kicked out for fighting. So, yeah. Thanks."

"No problem." Carver told him, though Trail was still concentrating on Thor's ranting more than what Carver was saying. "He tried to recruit me too. Said that we'd make a great team. But I wasn't going to join him. He's nothing more than a common thug. A common District Two thug that's looking for a fight."

"Yeah. Cool cool." Trail boredly told Carver, not caring much for the conversation anymore. "If you don't mind, I'd like to get back to trying to learn how to survive."

"Sure. Fine with me." Carver then tipped over the trash can, much to the fury of Thor, before turning back to Trail. "If you want, you can partner up with me."

Trail looked at Carver, and while Carver was the biggest person he had ever seen and looked like he could crush the skulls of nearly half the participating tributes, there was just something about him that Trail didn't like. Maybe it was the constant stink of alcohol that was around him. Maybe it was his slowed speech, like he was permanently intoxicated. Maybe it was the way Carver couldn't handle bright lights and loud noises and looked tired all the time.

The District Seven boy would of been the best choice for a teammate. Strong, more than likely able to handle an axe, and if nothing else, probably loaded with sponsors because of his physical structure alone. Though Carver probably wouldn't be winning the hearts of any girls because of the better looking tributes this year.

But as Trail's mind raced with ideas, he thought of what made everyone in this room special.

Disorders. He knew what his disorder was, but he didn't know Carver's. What was it? Some kind of alcoholic disorder? Maybe he was depressed and would kill himself in the arena the first chance he got.

Trail suddenly forgot what he was thinking about and just looked at Carver.

"I'll think about it."

Irritated.

If there was a word to describe just how he was feeling at the moment, it was irritated. Irritated and maybe a little bit angry with a mixture of pain. It didn't help that someone was yelling at him while experiencing a wicked hangover. Not that he regretted anything of course, you have to do what you have to do in order to function. Or, at least function better than without the alcohol induced nights. Still being hypersensitive to lights and sound wasn't pleasant, and his captive was pushing the limits of his headache.

"He doesn't want to join you," Thor continued to say as Carver rolled the trash can away from the training stations. Carver looked around at the reactions that the other tributes were giving him. Or at least, the tributes that actually decided to show up.

Neither of the District One tributes had shown up, and neither of the District Six tributes bothered to show up either. Thor's district partner was nowhere in sight either. And that tiny tribute from Eight hadn't shown up either.

And even if some were here, it didn't mean that they were training. That girl from Three was arranging the tables and chairs so that they were just so, that man faced girl from Nine was sitting at her table observing everyone quietly, his district partner laying on her back. They weren't the most productive of tributes, and he was thinking that as Thor continued to lay out for him. "You want to know why? Because he can see you for what you really are. A god damn coward who thinks that everyone should be afraid of him because of your size."

Carver didn't want everyone to be afraid of him, just the people that needed to be. It went a long way when they were intimidated by your size. It made people freeze up, it gave you those extra seconds of action as they took in just what they had gotten themselves into. And most of the time, that was enough. It made people think twice about what their malevolent decisions towards him.

Back home, nobody dared mess with his family because of him. If anyone gave his brother or sister a hard time, they had wished that they hadn't. Even when he was younger nobody really bothered him because of his size. He had always been the biggest kid in his class. It didn't take long before he was as tall as some of the adults. By the time he was fifteen he was already matching the height of even the tallest grown ups in District Seven.

And if appearances were anything to go by, he had started to look like an adult by the time he entered his teen years. His facial features became less soft and round and instead became developed and sharp. His facial hair grew rapidly and his eyebrows were thick and bushy. And his body developed as rapidly as his height. It made it awkward at first, looking older than he really was, but he learned to like it. Even now he looked like he should be in his early, or maybe even mid-twenties. Unlike the other tributes, there wasn't a hint of child like appearance on him.

It made it easy to solve problems. It also helped that the district thrived on hard physical labour, making him not only tall, but muscular.

He was grateful for all that, and more. It would definitely go a long way. But Thor didn't seem to be acting like he should, and that confused Carver. It also pissed him off for some reason. "But I'm not afraid of you. In the arena, what are you going to do? Subdue someone? Leave all the hard work to someone that can get shit done? You may think you're the big bad fucking wolf, but all you are is a sheep. A big sheep, but a sheep neither the less."

Carver stopped rolling Thor when he reached his destination.

"You done?" He asked trying to keep his voice as neutral as possible. He could of easily beaten the tar out of Thor, but he didn't see the point. Thor was just an asshole that talked too much. He had seen people like that back in Seven, and the only thing that made Thor different from them was that he was braver. Braver and had a mental disorder.

"What's wrong sheep?" Thor asked with a wicked smile, like he had discovered something that he really hadn't. "Can't handle the truth? Did I shatter that arrogant image you had of yourself?"

Carver shook his head and looked down at Thor in pity.

"The only one who's arrogant here is you. And if we ever meet in the arena, I show you who's the wolf and who's really the sheep."

"I highly doubt th-" Thor started, only for Carver to kick the metal cylinder he was trapped, causing it to roll into a storage closet. Before he could even shout at Carver, Carver slammed the door shut and walked away from the foul mouthed boy from Two.

Call me a sheep will he? Carver thought bitterly to himself, thinking of his reputation back in Seven. The reputation he had earned. He doesn't know a god damn thing.

You should keep your strength up.

That was the advice that his mentor had given him, but he dismissed his words of wisdom and substituted them for what he knew best.

He was going to keep his strength up, but not in the way that his mentors wanted him to. No, he wasn't going to go down that route. They didn't know what was best for him, he knew what was best for him. So he was going to keep his strength up, but in a different way. And the way he was thinking about was going around with Anna. She kept herself busy, and with that, she kept him busy as well.

She was in constant motion, and Spark liked that. It got him to move and exercise with her, even if his district partner walked around in giant circles wondering what to do next. He didn't care what they did next as long as they were in motion, and it kept him distracted from darker thoughts. What his mentors had suggested to him didn't do him any good either.

Why is everyone telling me to eat something?My parents. My friends. And now the adults in the Capitol. What do they want? He asked himself. I eat, okay? The amount that I eat isn't unhealthy, it's just right. Sure I get hungry and go over board sometimes, but I always make up for it. And besides, I drink plenty of water.

Walking from the hand to hand combat station that Anna had gotten semi-bored from, along with getting a little angry at the trainer for trying to teach her something, Spark looked at his fellow tributes. All of them different sizes.

He spotted that District Four girl, unsurprisingly, at the rope section. And there was that Carver giant at the spear throwing section. Spark thought of how different he was from each and every tribute in the Capitol training room. I may not be a career, or any where near a Carver, but at least I ain't like those District Twelve skeletons.

Spark looked at himself up and down, and the shirt that seemed to be a little bit too small for him just screamed at him to burn more of that fat off his body. Spark would of happily complied, but he was tired, his vision was waving left and right unexpectedly, and it was almost lunch time, and the trainers would be off for their break.

Still, with Anna close to his side, he was never resting for long. He was glad that Anna had as much energy as she had, and Anna was glad that she had someone that could keep up with her.

He wondered if Anna had the same kind of problem that he had. But he didn't think so, she didn't have the signs that he had, so thought that she might some other kind of condition. One where she could never relax. Nervousness? Spark didn't know, but while he knew that she was probably suffering because of it, he was glad that she had it.

"I can't belive that jerk told me to do that!" Anna screamed for the entire training center to hear. Spark instantly regretted thinking that he was glad for Anna's condition when kids and adults alike turned to look at her. And in a way, him. "Who does she think she is? Who? Who? That advice she gave me? Does she think I want to be a salad bowl head like her?"

Spark swallowed a lump in his throat that had suddenly appeared before turning around to see how the trainer was taking Anna's ranting. She didn't look mad, but she didn't look very pleased either. Spark didn't know wether to be worried or not.

Anna growled loudly as she grabbed a handful of her hair and swung her hand forward until it was in front of her face. "If she thinks that it's a good-" Anna stopped in the middle of her sentence as she stared at her hair before turning to Spark. "You know what," She said with a surprisingly calm voice. One that was a total contrast to the one she had been using just second earlier. Spark didn't know wither to be confused or happy that Anna's mood changed so quickly. "That is a good idea."

On their way past the knife station, the ever moving girl grabbed a survival knife and handed it to her district partner. "Cut my hair." Anna demanded as Spark took the knife in mild shock.

"Uh... What?" Spark asked as he looked back and forth between Anna and the knife.

"Cut my hair," Anna repeated. "It's not a bad idea. After all, she did show me what could happen if I keep it long in the arena."

As they walked to a table, Spark couldn't help but gawk at the older girl. Or most specifically, her hair. She has such beautiful hair. The boy thought as his district partner's hair swished back and forth across her back.

It was a good length, and the length of it seemed to really suit her. It wasn't overly long, but it wasn't short either. Not only that, but it looked so soft and full of life. Spark ran his hand gently through his hair and felt nothing but rough material. He hated his hair.

The next thing the teen knew, he felt something pointy hit him in the thigh. Spark let out a yelp as he was brought back to his senses and saw that Anna was sitting in one of the metal chairs, waiting impatiently for him to start trying to cut her hair.

Spark looked at the scissors before looking at Anna again.

"You su-"

"I asked you for this didn't I?" She told him as she twiddled her fingers together. "Cut it. Cut it short. But not so short that I look like a boy. And don't cut it so that it looks like salad bowl over there." She said as she pointed to the hand to hand combat trainer. Noting that Anna didn't want any part of her hair to be perfectly straight cut all around, he thought of the length. Not too short, but still not too long.

"But you've go-" Spark started, but Anna interjected once again.

"Look, will you just cut it and get it over with?" She said, her impatience clear in her voice. "It's not like I'm losing all my hair, right?" For some reason, that hurt Spark more than it should, but he quickly swallowed it and let it linger somewhere less noticeable.

Such beautiful hair though. Spark thought as he gently took a fist full of hair and adjusted the length of which to cut. It's a real shame.

Spark then picked the length, something not too short, but not too long either, and began sawing the hair. He quickly found that cutting hair with a knife was a lot harder than he originally thought. He found that Anna quickly discovered that as well. "Ow." She said as he tugged at her hair as he tried to cut it as quickly but smoothly as possible. "Don't pull so much."

"Trying." Spark grunted.

"It can't be that hard." Anna told him. "Ahh. It's just hair."

You're telling me. Spark thought as he cut through the thin, but surprisingly tough stuff. "Fuck. Ow."

"Sorry." Spark apologized, trying to be as gentle as possible while still applying enough force to cut through.

It was hard work, but Spark managed to cut off a chunk of hair. The second one was equally as difficult. He was wondering why Anna couldn't of just waited to ask their escort for a hair cut when he felt his wrist being crushed and pulled.

Spark squawked when he came face to face with a very pissed off looking head trainer Thorn. Spark felt his body get weak, and he would of fallen over in both terror and surprise if the large man wasn't holding onto his arm and pulling him so hard that he was face to face with him.

"What do you think you're doing?" He growled. All Spark could do was stare stupidly at the head trainer. It seemed to piss him off even more. "I asked-"

"He's cutting my hair for your information." Anna said, looking at Thorn with a glare. "Why? Something wrong with that?"

Spark didn't know wether to praise the girl for being brave, or to be scared for her for being stupid. The last time she had talked back to Thorn had resulted in casualties. Spark was not looking to become one of those, nor did he want Anna to be one again.

"Yes." Thorn said before he shoved Spark into the arms of another peacekeeper. The younger peacekeeper grabbed the middle aged teenager and held him in an iron grip. Spark didn't put up a fight as he knew it wouldn't end anywhere good. He thought of how Thorn had snapped Thor's arm and it made him shudder. "I told you there'd be no fucking around. Playing around with knifes, that's unacceptable."

"We're not playing around with it." Anna told him, trying to justify the action. "We're using it."

"Fucking around with it more like it." Thorn growled at her before he pulled out a pair of scissors from his chest pocket before three peacekeepers grabbed Anna and shoved her to the floor.

"What are you-" Anna started, but then the sound of hair being snipped off caused her to stop.

"You want a fucking hair cut. You're going to get one."

Spark then watched in horror as Thorn savagely cut Anna's hair. It was unskilled, it was crude, and it was close to the scalp. Thorn didn't seem to care where he was cutting as long as the hair was getting short. Anna begged him to stop as tears started to form in her eyes, but Thorn didn't stop, and her struggling did nothing to get the three other peacekeepers off of her.

She moved and shouted with all her might, but nothing got the sadistic peacekeeper to stop, or even slow down. At times it looked like the twin blades were going to slice through the girl's scalp, but always managed to miss. Spark didn't fight, but he felt guilt that he wasn't trying to help Anna. She was fighting against four grown men, and here he was, watching this horrific scene in front of him without so much as pushing against a single peacekeeper.

So he did what he thought was best. He closed his eyes and looked away. But hearing her screams of mercy and the sound of hair being sliced wasn't much better. If anything, his imagination made it worse.

When the snipping had stopped, Spark dared to look at his district partner. It was quite a sight, as her hair was ragged and looked awful. In some areas she was almost completely shaved, in other places her hair was still slightly long. Spark was horrified. "There's your fucking haircut." Thorn snarled as he pocketed the scissors and snapped his fingers, telling the peacekeepers to free the District Five tributes.

Anna immediately looked at her haphazardly thrown hair that was laying on the floor, not even looking at Thorn and his posse as they walked away. "You see that tribute Ingram? Tribute Salvador? Tribute Boykin? Step out of line, and some form of punishment will happen to you."

Spark didn't really care about the other tributes, the sight of Anna was more than enough to keep him occupied.

"My hair..." Anna cried as she picked up chunks of her separated hair. Tears hitting the floor.

"Anna..." Spark said to her with worry. He didn't get any farther, because Anna got to her feet and started to run away towards the elevators. "Anna!" Spark shouted, going after his district partner. "Anna!"

A/N: Been a while, am I right? Sorry for the long wait. My computer was being a jerk, unexpectedly resetting before I could save my writing, so because I was frustrated with it, I didn't write for about a week.

Anyway, I'm not the best at giving hints about people. Me personally, I'd just like to tell you who they are and why they're like that. But that's not how stories work, so bare with me for a bit.

Also, enjoy.