21st Games: Lindsey Holman, District 9, age 16
Three years ago she watched one of her friends go half-crazy on television. The starving, shivering wreck of a girl was returned to them, and since then little Bree hadn't said a coherent word to anyone.
When she is called, she is determined not to suffer the same fate as her friend. She will dive head-first into the fight for supplies, bloodbath or not. If she lives then she will fight, as fast and as deadly as she can so that no matter what it's all over quickly.
She never thought about whether or not she could bring herself to kill. It turns out to be fairly easy when a boy twice her height grabs her and tries to choke her to death. The little token they were allowed to bring this year, in her case a wooden cross passed down from her many-greats grandmamma digs into his hand, and he loosens his hold just enough for her to get an arm free. She claws out one of his eyes when he slams her into the ground, and beats him to death with a nearby rock.
The others are the same. The boy she has to stick thirteen times with an unwieldy blade before he stops screaming. Two smaller girls who fled the initial fighting. The big volunteer boy from Two, camped out by the supplies after he kills all his allies. He falls asleep and doesn't hear her creep up, doesn't hear her find the big tin of lantern oil. Doesn't hear her douse the grass around him with it. He does wake when she strikes the match, but not for long.
When she gets home, she and Bree talk just fine.