District Five's Alexa "Fortune" Langer's POV

They say that when you start taking drugs that your mind gets fucked up and you start to lose yourself. I call bullshit to that, because drugs don't mess you up, situations mess you up, people mess you up, and you fuck yourself up. Drugs help you, but then you come off it them and then people say that your even more fucked up then you were before. Well what if you had been rock bottom to begin with? There's nothing lower then that.

I had lost everything. My family, my friends, now I lost something that I should by every right have, but had been taken away from me. Choice. The simple action of choice had been taken away from me ever since I got into the arena. Sure they gave the false illusion of choice by saying that I could survive or die and that I could do whatever I wanted in order to survive, but that had all been taken away once Calamity got involved.

I looked down and saw that my legs were at impossible angles, my kneecaps were destroyed, bones were sticking out of my skin, and crimson blood decorated the limbs like last minute touch ups on a piece of cheap art work.

I didn't know wither to cry or laugh as I looked at my busted up legs. It looked so painful, and yet, I didn't feel a thing, only a mild stinging pain that felt almost like numbness. I didn't know wither to feel sad or wither this whole thing was funny, so I decided to feel both. I laughed and cried at the same time. I didn't know what else to do.

There was nothing else to do but look back on my life and stare at the ruined walls of the arena. I looked around and saw that there was writing on the wall in front of me with dried, faded blood that had a mixture of red and brown in it's colour. It read: Mum Dad. Wit 4 me on da ohr side.

I wondered if my mom and dad were waiting for me on the other side. If they were looking down on me and saw what became of me and my brother and how we were living. How we had despised each other and wouldn't even acknowledge that the other existed unless it was to trash talk them. Would they be disappointed, angry, understanding. They saw all from up there, so did that mean they saw how he was struggling as well? Did they know how I was feeling? Did they know anything at all?

When I go and see them, would they welcome me with open arms or would they shoo me away? Would they say that I did my best in the situations that were thrown at me, or would they say that I should of done better, been better? Would I still be their daughter or would I be someone that they wanted to abandon?

I didn't want to go and see them because I was scared about what they'd think of me. I didn't want them to leave me again, and if there was an after life and I saw them there, I didn't want them to abandon me, because if they abandoned me there, it was forever.

I wanted them to welcome me back into the family, tell me that the fire was not my fault and that escaping was what they'd of wanted me to do. The drugs on the other hand, everyone knew was bad, so that's what I worried about.

I got my money by gambling, which was better then what a lot of other people did. They stole, they robbed, they killed, but not me, I didn't do any of those things because they were too dangerous. That, and I knew that I just didn't have it in me to do those things, no matter how desperate I got. That counted for something, right?

Alexa "Fortune" Langer doesn't make her fortune by doing those vile acts, but she did other vices, and as such, I didn't know where I was going to go, to where all the good people go, or the place where all the evil people went. I didn't know.

I couldn't go to where all the good people were, because I had done bad, and I couldn't go to where all the bad people went, because I hadn't gone anything that was considered bad. Sure the drugs were bad, but I didn't steal or kill or anything like that. That's what really scared me, because what if I went somewhere that was between those two? What was that? Nothingness? Would I be trapped in nothingness forever? What was nothingness anyway?

I guess it didn't really matter where I thought I was or wasn't going, because I was going to go there, some where anyway. It was just a matter of time.

I looked at the can of corrosive spray that my rapist decided not to take with him for whatever reason that was, and grabbed it. I turned it around and looked at all the warning signs decorating the can, telling anyone that was holding it, or looking at it, that it was a deadly can of spray if misused.

I used this on one person, and I saw the damage that it had caused her, and it hadn't been worth it because I didn't get what I needed. It was a shame, really.

I looked at the can and remembered how it had burned my throat when I tried to inhale it. I remembered how it had practically melted that girl's face when I had sprayed it on her. I thought of how it would melt my throat if I sprayed it into my mouth.

I didn't think of the pain of all that, because as I see it right now, there was pain if I died, and there was pain if I lived. And I was going to die sooner or later, so, why not make it sooner and get it over with.

I opened my mouth, turned the cap towards me, and sprayed the liquid acid into my mouth, feeling it's horrible taste in my mouth as it began to burn my tongue, mouth, and throat.

I didn't regret anything though, expect maybe not telling my brother off and beating him up as well. I used to hate him, but since I started to do this thing called serious thinking, something that I hadn't done in a really long time if it didn't involve cards, I didn't blame him so much. Because of that thinking, I sympathized with him. He had lost his parents as well, and he hated me because he thought that I had burned the house down. I could see some of this thinking as well. Even if he is an ass.

The kids that were behind the district fences would have to find someone else to annoy, because I was gone, gone, gone baby.

I felt the stuff inside my mouth sizzle and burn, causing great irritation and agony inside me, but I continued to spray the acid into my mouth, just wanting to get it done and hoping that it would get the job done.

I hoped it did, I didn't want to be in this world anymore with the lines and blobs and irritating sounds and everything that was hurt and confusion. I wanted to find some peace in my life, and it death was going to bring it, so be it.

I started to feel my mind relax as time seemed to slow down and everything became somewhat mentally clearer as the words started to lightly swirl around. It wasn't the same as crystal, but it was something, and it felt all right, if not a little strange.

I thought back to the only person that mattered in my life at the moment, and I pulled out the two tokens that he had so kindly given me. An ace playing card and a gold coin. Two tokens that the Capitol hadn't given me shit about. Probably because they were busy with other things, such as how to create an anarchist government where nobody was in charge but we were still thrust into the arena nether the less. That peacekeeper in the beginning didn't seem to give a shit about the president being dead, but behind all his talk, I could tell that he was raging on the inside.

I don't know what he was so mad about, but it had something to do with the president's death. Was he close to the old man? I won't be finding out any time soon.

I looked at the playing card, the gold coin, and thought of my nick name, fortune.

Then something hit me, something mentally hit me. I realized that this card and this coin wasn't about me, but it was about him. My mind suddenly made sense of the items in front of me.

The ace playing card was a lucky card, a top card that was the highest play able item in a game. To him, I was that ace, the thing that would win.

The gold coin represented the wins from the game that the card won, it symbolized the winnings that I would get when I got out of here.

I smiled as I thought of that. He didn't care about me, all he cared about was the money that I would give him once I got back home from the arena.

I laughed, even though it hurt my throat and I could hardly breathe. I dropped the playing card and the gold coin to the ground, watching it fall in slow motion as the world began to fade away.

They say drugs fuck you up. I call bullshit to that.

Alexa "Fortune." Langer.

I get it now.

District Four's Selene Ripple's POV

Fire.

I hated fire with a passion, and somehow, it had found me in the arena.

I ran as fast as I could to get away from it as I didn't want to get burned by it.

I know that it was horrible that I abandoned Caritta, and just after she said that she liked me to, but that fire was just so, terrifying. The way that it burned and consumed everything in it's path and the way it slowly cooked things to death, just like it did in the District Six reapings. The way the other kids wailed and turned to charcoal was just horrifying. I still had nightmares about it.

Just seeing it on the T.V was bad enough to give me the shakes and send me unwanted mental images, but seeing it in front of me, just having it suddenly appear like that, I felt a whole new level of fear from that.

I ran and continued to run until I couldn't run anymore, and that's when I stopped to catch my breath. Or rather, breathe in and out until I vomited my insides out onto the floor. It was that bad.

i wiped my mouth and thought of Caritta, the girl that had confessed that she liked me, that she liked girls as well. The one person that really understood who I was, and I abandoned her as soon as the fire started. I was sickened with myself. How I could just abandon her like that? Sure there was the fire, but, you could go back there, right Selene?

No, I told myself. Even if I wanted to go, there was a part of me that refused to go back there, even if there was a girl that liked me for who I was and was the same as me.

I hated fire, it feared it more then anything else in the world, and there was no way that I was going to go back to Caritta, even if I really, really wanted to.

I then thought of my home, or my dad and Dawn and Melony, and thought of how I might run away from them just as quickly if something like that happened to them. If they caught on fire, would I save them? No, because I'm too much of a god damn coward that's so fearful of some ball of red and orange that you'll run away from them even if you were the only one that could save them.

Almost like what I had done with Melony when she died during the reapings. What had I done for her, huh? Nothing, that's what, I had done nothing for her. No good words for her, no talking with her parents, no comforting thoughts about her, nothing, until now.

Now I was just flooded with guilt as I thought of one of my friends and how I thought nothing of her, just like how I probably didn't think about anyone else that really mattered to me.

My dad didn't want me to go into the arena, and yet, here I was, going against his wishes when all he wanted to do was keep me safe.

When I did things that seemed like they would kill me, a part of me was hoping that I would, indeed, die. But Dawn and Melody always managed to pull me out of it, and how did I thank them? By being rude to them.

I never seemed to be grateful to them. But I was, I just didn't show it. What did they think of me now? Did they think that I was a selfish bitch that should die? After all this thinking, I believed that I should die. After all, everyone in the district didn't like me because of my sexuality, and my family and friends shouldn't like me because of the way I act around them.

And Caritta. Caritta shouldn't of liked me, because I didn't do anything to save her, nothing. I just ran away. It was pathetic. I should just die.

I looked to my right hand, to see that I was still holding the ice pick that Caritta had given me when I was confronted with Kendrick and Caia.

I looked at the ice pick and thought of how this probably wasn't the way Caritta was thinking I'd use it, but, at least it'd get some use out of it.'

I lifted the ice pick up, pointed the sharp point towards me, gripped it with both hands, then plunged the needle into my throat. It burned like wildfire as I could feel the blood rush out and around the steel point of the weapon. I found it getting difficult to breathe as crimson liquid pumped out of my throat and started to stain my hands. I closed my eyes immediately after that.

I planned on pulling it out again before stabbing myself repeatedly, but something stopped me. Was I just to weak willed to finally kill myself after all this time? I feared that it was.

I opened my eyes, and saw that there was a couple of hands gripping my hands, preventing me from pulling out the ice pick. Who would do that? Who would save me?

Caritta? No, she was burned to death just now. But what if she got saved? How could someone put out a fire that big?

Dylan? No, Dylan wouldn't save me, he was just as big of a hatter as the rest of the district?

If it weren't those two, then who would be trying to save me.

I looked up and saw a guy with blond hair, empty green eyes, and a wicked smile across his face.

"Sorry," Calamity Mershade said to me. "Am I interrupting something?"

I then felt a wave of pain explode in my face as I felt myself fall stumble backwards as I held my hands to my face. I then felt something hit the back of my knees before I felt myself kneeling down on the floor, then felt another strong force hit the back of my head, knocking me face first into the floor. The ice pick was shoved deeper into my neck, causing even more agony as I felt the steel drag against my throat.

I felt the warm, metallic blood start to bubble up in the back of my throat as I started to cough painfully. I felt warm water on my tongue as I did.

I coughed, and coughed some more before I felt sharp pain in my mid section, causing me to cough even more as the wind rushed out my body. "Pathetic Selene." I heard my attacker mockingly tell me. "Poor, poor Selene, can't even," I felt a rush of pain in my face again as I felt myself turn onto my back. "Protect herself against one," I felt him grab my left leg before lifting it up in the air. I dared myself to look, wondering what the hell he was doing. "Single," I saw himself lift his right foot up before he slammed it down on my knee cap, sending a torrent of pain crashing down on me as I noticed bits of bloody, shattered bone sticking out of my knees. Some of it the wrong way.

I cried out in pain from the damage he had caused me. "Enemy."

I felt him rise my other leg up again, and this time, I didn't dare look, before I felt him destroy my other leg. I cried out again, feeling wild fire building up in my legs. This pain was nothing I had ever felt before, it was so much more intense. "Your weak Selene," I heard Calamity laugh. "You should of," I then felt something pulling off me, exposing my body. I forced my eyes open, and saw that he was pulling my pants down! "Stayed with your allies."

I tried to kick at him, but my legs wouldn't move, because they were broken. I then tried to hit him with my fists, but they were of little effect because all he did was dodge them and flick them away easily.

I watched helplessly as he tore open my shirt and pulled down my bra, exposing myself to him even more. I hated it, I hated that this was happening to me. I wanted to kill myself, then this started to happen. Why? Of all the times that I finally had to die, did an event like this have to happen just before death? "You can't protect yourself," He said as he started to undo his pants before pulling it down, showing off his erected penis. I had a horrible feeling about this, and it wasn't just the pain talking. "And this is the price you have to pay for that."

I then watched him kneel down before I saw and felt his hardened dick get roughly shoved into my vagina. It hurt like hell, almost as much as getting my legs smashed. Why did this happen to me? Couldn't something good happen in my life?

I felt the hardness of his dick force it's way into me, breaking every barrier that it came across, causing me great pain and discomfort. It was made worse by the fact that I liked girls, not guys.

I tried to fight him, but with each movement I made, he made one was well. I tried to move away, he moved forward. I tried to move somewhere, he'd move in the direction that I didn't want him to. And the way that he thrust himself inside me wither I did anything or not seemed to be like a game or not. Which game will Selene go to next some that I can violate her even more.

The roughly grinding of his erection continued, making me cry out, or cry out as best I could, with every move he or I made. Whatever I did, it caused me pain, and him pleasure.

I tried to fight back, but I was losing strength due to the ice pick in my neck.

The ice pick in my neck!

Despite the pain and misery I was experiencing right now, I reached up and grabbed the ice pick before I ripped it out of my throat. A great rush of pain and blood started to spray out of the hole in my neck as I started to feel the same blood rise up and threaten to drown me, but I didn't care at the moment, I wanted to get Calamity off me.

I thrust the pointed weapon at him, only for it to stop mid way to him. I was in shock, I didn't think that anyone paid attention to their surroundings while having sex.

Calamity had grabbed my wrist, then twisted it in such a way that I saw my arm go towards my shoulder before I stabbed myself with my own weapon. Another wave of pain hit me, this time in the shoulder.

I heard Calamity tisk. "Should of just let me rape you." He said before he ripped my arm away, causing me to pull the ice pick out of my shoulder and make me let go of the weapon due to the pain. I would of screamed, but the blood in my throat prevented me from doing so. "And now,"

Calamity then removed his dick from my vagina, much to my relief. "Since your dying," He then came closer to me and grabbed my head, one of his thumbs pressed against my left eye. "And you killed yourself," I then felt him apply pressure to my eye, causing me go gurgle in pain as I felt his finger harshly press against my eye ball. "I can do," I then felt unbelievable pain as half the world disappeared in a flash of red before it turned black. "This."

Why can't I just die?

District One's Zane's POV

Calamity told me not to kill anyone, and I still wasn't. I was raping, hurting, and doing what he would never in a million years of free will, do what he would do. But I still wasn't killing anyone.

Besides, it's Selene's fault for getting found so easily because of her screaming her head off for some reason. What did she want to do anyway? Attract attention to herself? And when she didn't get a response in time she decided to kill herself, because nobody else was running up towards her and saying 'hey baby, I noticed that you're running away from something and I just want to say, murdering you is in season this time of year.'

Selene had sentenced herself to death as soon as she plunged that ice pick into her neck, making her death only a matter of time. I wanted to keep her alive for as long as possible, meaning that I wanted to keep that ice pick in her neck, but she removed it, lessening my fun time with her.

Ah well, I'll do another thing to her, something that I've wanted to do for a while.

Zane! Calamity screamed. What are you doing?

What does it look like Calamity. I told him before I twisted my thumb right and left, destroying the wet eye ball even more before I pulled it out of the socket. The wet fluids and bits of eye were stuck to my finger as I removed my thumb from Selene's head. I'm going to skull fuck her!

Your going to what!

I giggled as I heard Calamity's shock. I knew that he wasn't going to like it, but to hear him say it like that, it was priceless. I don't think he expected me to do something like that. And really, I hadn't expected me to do what I was going to do, but for a whole different reason.

Hey! Calamity! Hey! Calamity! Watch this!

I then pulled Selene's head towards me before I stuck my hard on into her open, bleeding, eye socket.

Zane! Calamity shouted as I felt the warmth of blood on my dick as I started to trust if in and out of the bleeding hole, covering the length with red. The warmth was different then when I stuck into her lady parts. The warmth of blood was thicker, less slimy, easier to pass through. I felt warm pulsing inside her head. I liked it, it wasn't half bad. You're fucking insane!

Have I ever told you how much I love to hear your rhyming Calamity?

Get your fucking dick out of her eye socket!

Why? I asked, seeing no reason to do it. Is this bothering you? Is it reminding you of the time I wanted to skull fu-

This isn't about her! Calamity screamed to me, over lapping the gagging of little Selene. This is about her! Stop it! Right now!

Let me think about that for a minute. Thought about it. No.

I hate you!

The feeling's mutual friend.

We are not friends!

But we were at one time, weren't we Hale.

Calamity shut up after that. I laughed at both him and Selene. Both were weak. Selene ran away from her allies when she would of been safer with them around, but instead, she left them. And for what? Because she didn't like anyone? Because she thought that she could survive on her own? It made me laugh, she was so stupid, and it was going to be the thing that killed her.

And Calamity, he didn't like to be called by his real name. Wither it was because he had forsaken that name after all those things him and I did together or because he hated the fact that everyone thought that it was a girls name I didn't know. Or maybe it was what that name meant. It meant protector, or hero, but he was such a lousy one that it caused the death of his family and the girl that meant so much to him.

He simply couldn't let those things down. I could though, I didn't see why he couldn't see it from my point of view. It was all about him. Him, him, him. It was always 'you left me alone in this world' or 'your the one that killed them.' or even 'I wish you had never been here.'

He was always bitching about something about how his life was miserable. It got annoying to listen to sometimes.

I felt pressure building up in my dick as I continued to eye fuck Selene. I continued to move my dick in and out of her skull until I finally came in her skull, releasing seamen into her brain before I threw her head away. She was of no use to me now. "Thanks for the fuck." I told her dying body that she herself had killed. "It was truly a..." I searched for a word. "An exotic experience."

I'll kill you. You know that?

I paid no attention to Calamity. He had made that threat many times before, and yet, I was still here.

Whatever you say, Hale.

District Three's Caia Wicken's POV

Dying.

Kendrick was dying from the wound that Zeal Skoda had given him. It wasn't the most serious looking wound ever, but it was a deadly, sickening one to look at neither the less.

The wound was a gaping hole at the back of his cranium that continued to bleed no matter how tightly I wrapped my home made bandage that consisted of both sleeves of my torn night dress. The wrapping around his head were a deep red now, and there were no whites left on the dress and the crimson liquid was bleeding through, that's how much he had bleed.

He was still alive though. He was breathing, that was a sign that he was still in the world of the living. That he was still fighting to stay here, but he was still dying neither the less.

I looked at my ally and wondered what the hell I was supposed to do now. A part of me told me that I should stay with him, that he was alive and that I shouldn't abandon him like I did at the beginning of this game. I had to stay with him because what happened with Calamity might happen again, and he wouldn't be able to help me the next time in happened.

Another part of me told me that by all logic he should be dead, or very close to death. After all, he had been bashed in the head several times by someone that looked just as strong as he did. And while the skull is one of the hardest things in the human body, the brain itself is a fragile piece of meat made mostly out of liquid. That meant that he could be suffering brain damage, slowly dying like those tributes from previous Hunger Games.

I didn't want to abandon him, but I also knew that there was a good chance that he would end up deceased. Logic told me that without him, I'd be of little trouble to kill by anyone in this arena, especially by the careers. But logic also told me that I couldn't stay here and just wait for Kendrick to wake up, because Tanner and Adrian might be back, and they would kill me.

Staying in one place too long was dangerous, but being my yourself was also dangerous.

I couldn't decide what to do, it was all too much, there were too many things to consider.

I was independent, I could take care of myself. I could also take care of others while being in charge. Back home, I'd take care of my two younger siblings when mom and dad weren't home, which was very often, so really, I became almost like the parents for Lanie and Mica. I told them what to do, how to do it, got them to school on time, got the food ready, got them to bed, cleaned up their messes. I did all that when mom and dad were too tired to do it. Though a monstrous part of me wanted everything to be perfect, because who wants to trip over toys and junk and overturned chairs that were made into homemade castles? Who wants to get up late and rush through the day and cause chaos within the family when we already had it hard enough as it was?

I liked everything in order. Though I heard people say that I was too much of a perfectionist, that everything had to be above perfect for me, and I could see how they'd think that.

I'll admit it, I need things to be good, I need things in order, that sometimes good enough isn't good enough. But if you built a machine 'good enough' by your standards, does that mean that it's good enough for everyone? No. Because you build a device that shows moving images and they all come up as black and white moving images and that person wants colour, is that good enough for them? The person buying the T.V?

Or a better example. If you build a building that's supposedly 'good enough', does it mean it's any good? Maybe. But what if someone with low standards builds one that's 'good enough' and it falls apart in three weeks? You'd have to build it all over again.

I'm the one that says that sometimes your best isn't any good, and that tends to offend people, but I just want what's best.

I don't think on impulse, like some of the kids at school, or my younger siblings, do. I don't write notes on the wall, or build a device by randomly putting pieces together because I think it looks right, or scrapped parts that I didn't think were useless. I thought about my actions and didn't go through with them unless I was absolutely sure about them.

It worked well most of the time as it saved me more times then I can remember, but as I said before, it annoyed people to no end. Like how my classmates told me that, yes, three wires do get connected there, or, yes, a resister does go in that part of the chip. I looked at things harder then they did, even when they knew that right answers.

The consolation for my perfection was that I did know how to back off when things to intense, though it would take longer then necessary for me to find that out because, as I hate to admit it, people skills were not my strong suit.

I was smart, but I wasn't people smart. Reading and understanding people was harder then understanding and reading a book or a machine.

I tried though, I really did, but it's the forceful nature of the way I had been growing up and tried to be perfect with everything ever since I blew up this one kid's machine and he went berserk on me, hitting me until peacekeepers arrived, before whipping the skin off his back for assaulting me.

Because of that, I tried to never second guess again.

Now, I was in a difficult situation. Stay with Kendrick, or leave. I didn't know what to do.

I'd ask me mom, my dad, even my brother or sister for their advice, even though most of the time I'm so self confident that I'll make the decisions for them sometimes, or they even ask me for advice. But right now, I just didn't know which was the right decision to make.

Every little detail that I thought of bashed me over the head as the other decision threw another brick at my brain, telling me that this was right and wrong and that I should do one or the other. But they were both right, and they were both wrong.

I couldn't decide.

I suddenly started to hear faint, dry gasps that were high pitched, and low pitched. Almost like someone wanted to shout, but their tongues had been removed. I started to think of the avoxes that were in the Capitol, did they sound like that?

I looked up and away from Kendrick, and down the halls. I then saw, thanks to the lights that had recently came on, a few figures staggering towards us. From this distance, I saw that they were people, injured, and none of them were the tributes of this game.

I knew what they were, mutts.

I looked down the other side of the hall, and saw that there were more human like mutts coming towards us.

I looked back to Kendrick and started to shake him wanting him to get up and fight off these mutts. But Kendrick wouldn't move, all the movement he did was the ones I was making him do. His head bobbed back and forth as I pushed his body, struggling him to come back to the world of conciseness.

I didn't want to run, but I wanted to get away. I didn't want to abandon him, but I didn't want to stay here and let the mutts devour me. I wanted to live, but I wanted him to live as well.

Hunger Games. I knew that I shouldn't want to let him live, I knew that getting far wasn't good enough, I knew that he had to die in order for me to get home, but I also knew that I didn't want to leave him to be killed by the mutts.

I looked up to see that the mutts had gotten closer. I could now see the open wounds on their bodies and other injures they had gotten. Some of them had skin stripped from their face or chest or arm or more then one of those areas and more, some had open sores, most had both. Wither another tribute had given them those injuries or not I didn't know.

I grabbed my lead pipe and turned towards the group that looked closest, all while I kicked Kendrick, hoping that he'd open his eyes.

I was hurting as well, that fight with Daria had left me wounded as well. Not as severely as Kendrick, but I was still in a good amount of pain. And I wasn't a fighter, Kendrick was. I could hardly fend off Daria, a single enemy. How was I supposed to fend off several?

I couldn't do this alone.

Please Kendrick...

Wake up!

A/N: You know, I read somewhere that most people who write rape fics/scenes, good or bad, have experienced rape themselves. Now, how about that? Well, I've just got to say, I haven't been raped, or have I?

Anyway, should I put up warnings about rape scenes or what?