Oi mates. Sorry for the late chapter. I went to a baseball game and was very tired.

Saige Lark (15) D11F

"What day is it today?" Regano asked me. She was tossing a small ball I knew she had stolen at a wall. I didn't know who in the jail had a bouncy ball, other than Regano.

I looked at her in confusion. She never asked me that question. I never knew the answer. "What do you mean? I never know," I said, running my hands through my hair. I needed to do something with my hands, or I would be totally lost, and I just might freak out.

"Oh. Yeah. I guess that slipped my mind. There's a lot of hubbub around, is all. Something big must be happening," Regano said, staring out of our cell. I closed my eyes tightly, scrunching up my face in annoyance, then looked out of the cell with her. Though I didn't like Regano, any cellmate was better than none, which was what I was normally left with.

"There is," I said, completely surprised to see so many juveniles out of their cells. Everyone that I knew, or bothered to be aware of, was standing outside of their cell. A Peacekeeper was even walking over to my cell, and she opened the door. That was unusual. Usually I got fed through the door, due to the last time I had spontaneously decided to try to strangle a Peacekeeper. This one was standing away from me and holding a gun, so I wouldn't attack.

"You're coming with us. The Reapings are today. Enjoy your time outside," the Peacekeeper barked at us. Regano grinned. She was here on possible murder, so she was almost never let outside.

"It's been a whole year," I whispered to Regano. That didn't feel right. I could never keep track of time. I couldn't keep track of many things. Time. People. Food. Logic. Schedules. When I had last showered, or eaten.

"And now someone gets to die," she whispered back.

"Just like my sister," I said, absentmindedly. Regano gasped. I didn't talk about my sister very often. I didn't remember her very often. Add that to the list I couldn't keep track of: Family. My sister was why I was in jail. Really, it was the absence of her. I was the one that killed her, so I was the one in jail.

"Our female tribute will be Saige Lark!" our escort cried out. Oooh, an adventure! was the first thing to run through my mind. The Games would be a big adventure, especially to someone who had been in jail for years. When I felt Peacekeepers grabbing onto me, I realized it wasn't just any adventure.

Got to get out this isn't okay need to let go. I didn't want to go into the Games, even if they were an adventure. I never left the District. Leaving the penitentiary was enough adventure for one day. I needed to be back in the safety of my cell. Nothing to freak me out, nothing to make me kill again, nothing to make more people end up like my sister, my sister, the corpse in the field.

Robin "Mute" Ceviro (18) D11M

Did you clean the bathroom? You definitely cleaned the bathroom. Did you clean the living room? You definitely cleaned the living room. Did you vacuum? Yeah. Totally. Probably. Guess I'll have to go vacuum again. Paul was slowly walking toward the house I had just been cleaning, and I knew how well he would want everything to have been cleaned. Clean everything three times, oughta be able to see a reflection in there, don't miss a speck or he'll get mad and you never ever want him mad.

I turned on the vacuum, which I considered a luxury. Even though I wouldn't have to vacuum if we didn't own it, I knew I would be cleaning manually if we didn't, which would take even longer. Paul walked in as I started my rounds, and I realized that it was my second time, at least, vacuuming that day. I could still see the lines the vacuum left in the carpet, and the ground was almost completely clean. The only dirt that was there had probably dropped off of me after I had been cleaning.

"You didn't do the dishes?" Paul asked me, glancing at the counter. I looked over and, sure enough, it was covered with dishes. I felt myself begin to sink.

Knew you had forgotten something. Wasn't the vacuum, it was dishes, dishes, dishes, forgot to do the dishes. I put my hands up and took two steps away from Paul, completely forgetting the vacuum. When I forgot to do one of my many chores, Paul got mad. When Paul got mad, he hurt me. And ever since he had decided it was a wonderful idea to ruin my tongue, I wasn't even able to beg for mercy when he decided that it was prime time to start tearing me apart.

"I can't believe you would forget something like that. I thought I had trained you better than that. I guess you still have to learn," Paul continued, grabbing onto my hair. I generally kept it short, because I knew he liked to grab onto the black mess on top of my head, but I had accidentally left it long enough for him to pull me around with it. He pulled me down with it, straight onto his patiently waiting knee.

I whimpered. I couldn't plead with him vocally, but I sure could make a mess out of myself. I hoped that if I made myself look pitiful enough, he would decide that I hadn't deliberately done anything wrong. I really hadn't. The second Paul let go of me, I tried to skitter over to the counter. I was hardly willing to stand up and risk offending him, but I had to clean the dishes. I kept my head down and began to start cleaning, Paul breathing down my neck the entire time. It was scary, but it was better than being beat.

Okay so this chapter is obviously a LITTLE weird, but it's because neither of these tributes are exactly stable. Don't boycott me.