A/N- Ahh, it feels like agggeeess since the last update! Sorry everyone, but I have had loads of revision and exams lately so I had to put this story to one side until exams were over. But now they're all done, so the story is back on! And after our last dramatic chapter, now it is time for an outside chapter. I hope you like it!

Taylor Virgona (Brooklyn's sister) POV

A sudden, shrill and high pitched ringing sound shatters my ear drums and forces my eyelids to fly open. I jolt up in my bed as quick as a bolt of lightning, my neck twinging with the sudden movement. My heart beats fast with adrenalin and my eyes flick nervously around the room, expecting there to be flames engulfing my bedroom. However, the room is silent, besides the constant ringing sound that doesn't appear to be the fire alarm...it's just my alarm clock. Right...

Sighing heavily with relief, my heart still beating twice as fast as usual, I rub my eyes and pull a disgusted face at the damp particles of sleep that smear across the backs of my hands. I wipe them without haste on the corner of my duvet and pretend that nothing happened. That wasn't pleasant. The alarm clock is still ringing, so I give the top a slap and it immediately stops. Good.

After stretching out my arms, I slide out of bed and slip my feet into my fluffy slippers. I only got them last week so they're still extra soft and comfortable. One of my favourite things about living in District One and having your Dad as a previous Hunger Games Victor, is that there is lots of money to spend on luxuries like soft slippers and silk dressing gowns. And speaking of silk dressing gowns, I think I shall wear my own one for breakfast now.

Now fully equipped with my dressing gown and matching slippers, I give my hair a quick comb until it shimmers like polished bronze. Then, almost flying down the stairs, the smell of pancakes luring me in, I race down to the kitchen. My slippers slide on the smooth surface of the kitchen tiles. As I enter, the sweet fragrance of syrup fills my nostrils and I scan the room for the source. Riley, my irritating twin brother, slouches in his seat at the table, a sticky grin on his face. An empty plate stained with golden coloured syrup sits in front of him.

"Where are the pancakes?" I ask him, searching the kitchen counters.

"In my stomach." Riley replies cheekily.

Rolling my eyes, I say, "Yeah, but where are my pancakes?"

"There are none." He says.

"What?!" I spin around to face him. "Did you eat mine as well as your own, you fat greedy pig!"

Riley just laughs at my poor excuse for an insult and replies, "Anyways, you'll need to cut down on the fatty breakfasts if you're training for the Games."

"I am not training for the Games." I say, settling for a piece of toast and sitting at the table to eat it.

"Well Dad seems to think you are." Riley persists and I just sigh.

Since Brooklyn died, which was about two days ago, Dad has been acting weird. He wasn't upset like I was; he kinda went obsessive over training me for the Games instead. I've done a little bit of training in the past; I tried it out when I was eight (I'm now ten), but I didn't like it at all. I think I was too weak and the thought of killing or even hurting someone is hideous to me, so I didn't try it again. Luckily, Dad was so convinced that Brooklyn was going to win the 500th Games, a Quarter Quell, that he didn't mind me quitting the training, he wasn't really interested in me anyway. However, now that Brooklyn has gone, Dad has suddenly decided that I'm going to be a Victor instead. I've tried telling him otherwise, but I don't want to upset him, so I just try my best to do well. But honestly, I am rubbish at everything he shows me.

Finishing my toast, I flick the tiny clusters of crumbs from my fingers and walk over to put my plate in the sink; someone will wash it later. Riley comes beside me, dumping his own plate into the sink with such little care that the warm water washes up the side and splashes my dressing gown. I squeal and leap back, my hands quickly pressing out the foamy bubbles that cling to the delicate material.

"Riley!" I yell angrily at my brother, who answers with a sly grin. "You know what the bubbles do to the silk!"

At that moment, before I unleash a high-pitched scream at my idiot of a twin, the kitchen door flies open and Dad comes storming in. "Taylor, quit messing around and why aren't you dressed yet? You've got training this morning so hurry up."

"I thought I wasn't training today." I say meekly.

Dad shakes his head as if I just said two plus two is three. "You're training for the Hunger Games, you'll train when I say you'll train. Now come on, I haven't got all day."

I drop my head, my eyes looking down at my fluffy slippers. I don't want to train today, I don't even want to train at all. "Yes, Dad." I reluctantly obey and run out the room and upstairs to my bedroom.

My training clothes are shoved to the back of my double wardrobe, hiding behind all my pretty dresses so that the dull sweatpants and vest-top are concealed from sight. They're disgusting, but I don't have anything else. I slip them on quickly, tie my long hair into a ponytail and hurry downstairs to the training room at the back of the house.

Dad is waiting for me when I arrive and doesn't hesitate to start barking my first orders. I'm told to sprint three laps of the room in under two minutes, which is rather difficult seeing that the room is quite large. I start off quickly, my arms swinging back and forth to help propel me further. Sweat soon begins to drip down my face and my limbs begin to tire at only the second lap. In the centre of the room, Dad yells for me to run faster. I can't.

Skidding round the last corner, I finally pass the starting post and let out a huge breath, exhausted. Dad comes over and looks at his stopwatch.

"Two minutes and seven seconds, Taylor." He reports. "You need to get that time under two minutes next time. Your sister could do it in one minute fifteen."

I let my body flop, my hands on my knees to keep my standing while the spinning room comes to a halt. My hand reaches out to grab my bottle of water, but an arm stops me.

"No time for a break yet, you may not have lots of water available in the arena so you need to learn to go without. Plus, we have a lot to get through."

I sigh and follow my Dad over to the weapons rack. He takes down one of the curved-edge axes and hands it to me. My body stumbles with its weight.

"Now," Dad says, "show me your swing, but keep hold of the axe at all times, we can throw it later."

I nod and try to start swinging the axe, but it's too heavy and my wrist twinges with the effort. I hear an impatient sigh.

"Give it to me." Dad takes back the axe and instead hands me two knives. "Try throwing some knives instead."

Slightly relieved about not having the axe, I step into position to throw the knives. I'm halfway along the throwing path, so I should at least be able to send the knife with enough power to reach the target. I take the first knife, suck in a quick breath, and fling it towards the target. I wince as the sound of the knife hitting the board rings in my ear. But wow, I actually hit it.

"That was way out. Try again." I hear Dad say, and I look over to the target and sigh in dismay as I see the knife is only just on the edge of the target.

I take the next knife and throw it, biting my lower lip as I watch it fly...then miss the target completely.

"Again."

I try again and again, each time either missing or just reaching the edges of the board. I'm feeling fed up as the last knife lands with a thud on the floor beside the target. I turn to Dad to apologise, but his face is so red that I think it's best not to say anything.

"What. Was. That?" He says straightly.

I look at my feet. "Sorry..."

"Sorry isn't going to win you the Hunger Games!" He suddenly explodes. "And neither is an aim as crap as that!"

"I'm sorry, I just can't..."

"Can't what? Can't do anything!" He rages on. "You're supposed to be a Career girl for crying out loud! You're the daughter of a Victor! Your sister could do everything at your age, so why can't you? She could sprint three laps without being exhausted; she could swing two axes at once; she could throw knives and actually hit the target-"

"I'm not Brooklyn, ok?!" I suddenly yell. Dad looks at me, shocked and even more surprised at my outburst than I am. I expect him to go on at me for being rude, but he drops his head and stays silent.

"Dad?" I touch his shoulder lightly.

"I'm sorry, Taylor." He whispers. "I know you're not Brooklyn, I just wanted you to be like her because I..."

"Miss her?"

"Yeah."

"Oh, Dad." I wrap my arms around him and give him a hug. "I miss her too."

"I really did think she was going to win."

"So did I."

"It's so weird without her."

I look up in time to see a small tear trickle down his cheek, something I have never seen before.

"Look, Dad." I say. "I will try my best, I promise. I'll never be as good as Brooklyn, but I'll try for you, I will. And maybe one day I will win the Games for you."

"No, Taylor." He replies. "You don't have to win the Games, one victor is enough for our family."

I smile. "Didn't you tell me that Mom used to say that?

"She did."

Dylan Fitzherbit (Heidi's brother) POV

Dear Diary,

Today, Dylan woke me up by emptying a to of dirty water on my head. It was totally gross! The water was all grey and stank of sweaty feet (like Cole's down the road who keeps trying to get one of my great foot massages. I keep telling him that unless he washes his feet more often then I won't go near them) and it soaked both me and my bed sheets. Ugh! I had a go at Dylan, but he just laughed. Typical. But hehe, wait until he gets up tomorrow, I've planed a special surprise for him, haha...

I smile to myself as I flick through the pages of Heidi's diary. I remember that day she wrote about; I had accidentally gotten up an hour earlier, thinking it was 6am when it was actually 5am, and rather than sitting around or going back to bed, I decided to pull a joke on Heidi. She had told my girlfriend at the time about one of my embarrassing incidents (not a story I will mention now...), so I was owed a revenge. Haha, I still remember it vividly when she leapt up in bed, drenched in disgusting water. And yeah, she got me back the next day. All my clothes were coated in sticky mud, so the only clean clothes I had were the pants I had slept in. Not good.

I've been reading a lot of Heidi's diary lately. I never used to read it, she kept it well hidden from prying eyes, but since she went into the Games I have found her writing quite comforting at the same time as being rather entertaining. She wrote in such a personal and informal way that I can almost hear her reading it to me in the back of my mind.

The sun beats down on me, its heated rays grilling the back of my shirt and sweat clings to my skin. I chuckle quietly to myself, recalling old memories from the diary as I walk through the District.

Dear Diary,

It's the Reaping tomorrow. I'm scared, really really scared. It's a Quell as well (hey, that rhymes!) and the twist is based upon fear, as if it isn't petrifying enough! Eek. I have never dreaded a Reaping as much as this before. I don't want to be reaped, please don't be reaped, please don't let it be me, I don't want to-

I close the diary and let my finger slip out of the pages, losing the extract I just read. I don't want to read it anymore.

I continue strolling down the dusty path, clouds of grey dust swarming over the toes of my boots. It's hot today, real hot, and I have to wipe sweat from my forehead with the back of my hand. Out of almost nowhere, I hear running footsteps approaching, soon followed by a girl.

"Dylan, you have to," the girl, Emilie, puffs. "come quickly."

"What's wrong? Has something happened Emilie?" I ask her.

"It's Heidi." Emilie replies, still breathing heavily.

Without asking any further questions, I urge her on and sprint after her, my hand still clutching hold of the diary. We run like arrows just shot from a bow, cutting through the humid air with hurried paces. Emilie leads me towards a cluster of houses and skids round a corner, dust flying up at the heels of her shoes. I follow her and almost crash into her back as she stands still.

A group of people crowd around one of the screens put up by the Capitol that shows the Games 24/7. My eyes look up to the screen and a lump forms in my throat. It's Heidi.

Heidi is backed into a corner by a Career. He taunts her, watches the fear in her eyes as he cruelly delays her death, because he will kill her, she knows that as much as everyone else does. I feel my fists closing tightly as I watch the Career take Heidi's neck in his hand. I want to do something so badly that I feel all the muscles in my body twitching with the need to rescue her. But I can't, so I turn away quickly before hearing a sudden snap, followed by a canon.

"Dylan, oh I am so sorry." A hand rests on my shoulder. I shrug it off.

"Sorry won't change anything." I say bitterly.

"I know, but-"

"There are no buts, ok?!" I snap at Emilie. She looks a little startled, but backs off.

The blood in my veins throbs, sending pulses of uncontrolled emotions through my whole entire body. An anger mixed with grief takes over me and the world seems to blur as I turn to the nearest wall and slam my fist into it. My knuckles shatter as they collide with the solid wall and darkened blood stains both my hand and the wall. I punch again.

"Dylan!" I hear Emilie shout to me. "Dylan, stop hurting yourself! Dylan!"

I stop punching the wall and spin around sharply. Emilie's face is streaked with tears and she watches in horror as I pick up the barrels beside me and throw them as hard as I can, seeing the shatter into jagged pieces of broken wood. I then continue to smash up anything and everything I can. Emilie's screams at me to stop soon fade as I let my anger take over.

I don't know how long later, but in the corners of my eyes I see two Peacekeepers running over to me. With the crate in my hands, I crash into the screen, leaving huge cracks in the glass and distorting the image. Soon the Peacekeepers come down on me, their heavy duty gloved hands clasping my shoulders, trying to restrain me. I thrash about, throwing fists around and my knuckles catch one of them on the side of the jaw, causing them to cry out and let go. I turn to the next one and punch him hard in the stomach, before taking my chance and sprinting off.

As I run, tears start to break down my face. My vision is blurred and I stumble a few times, but manage to keep going until I reach the end of the District. I duck down an alley and run down it until I spot a barrel filled with dirty water. Dirty water. Like what I threw over Heidi's head.

The diary.

I thrust my hands into my pockets and find the diary. I must have put it in there whilst was fighting. Opening the book, I begin to tear out page after page and drop them into the water. The ink is old, but as the water soaks into the paper, it starts to swell and run down the pages. The words become unreadable and before I toss the final piece of paper into the water, I read the last words.

I don't want to die.

Brooklyn Fontaine (Tal's sister POV)

I swallow down the small cocktail of pills with a glass of water, feeling the tiny tablets drop down my throat where they'll be absorbed into my bloodstream and do absolutely nothing whatsoever. I don't know why I even bother with them, they're useless! Sure, maybe they ease off the headache at first, but after half an hour they stop working all together and I'm back to square one again.

"Mom, haven't you got anything stronger?" I ask, gesturing to the pot of pills. "They're crap, really crap."

Mom shakes her head. "Not anything I would give to you whilst your pregnant. Those ones you've got there are the best you're going to get."

Problem with pregnancy: Mom refuses to give me proper painkillers. She says she doesn't want me to have 'too many chemicals in my body' when I'm pregnant. Seriously, what kinda crap is that?

"Oh come on, Mom, this headache is driving me insane, I've had it for at least a week now." I groan. "Can't I have something that actually works? It's hardly going to damage the baby or anything."

"No." She replies. "If you have to have anything then it can only be those ones, nothing else. All three times I was pregnant, I never took any pills for headaches, I just got on with things. I barely had anything when I was giving birth as well; I knew that it was-"

"Best to go without, I know Mom." I roll my eyes. "But you didn't suffer like I am now. You don't know what it's like."

"Brooklyn, I know what a headache feels like."

"But this is more like a migraine!"

"Stop being so whiney, Brooklyn. You're pregnant, it's not the end of the world."

It feels like it, I say under my breath, it's the end of my life anyway.

With a huff, I snap the lid shut on the pills and put them back in the cupboard. My head still pounds and it feels like a small child is whacking my skull with a stick over and over again. Not to mention my leg is achy from cramp I had this morning. And I generally feel drained, not being able to climb the stairs without feeling exhausted and I'm only halfway through the pregnancy as well! Four and a half months to go yet. Ugh, pregnancy sucks, it really does.

There's a loud whoop coming from the lounge; it sounds like my Dad. Mom looks at me, we both know what he's cheering about; Tal must be on the TV. Dad always likes watching the Hunger Games and he especially likes it when Tal is on. You should have seen him when Tal had his first kill the other week; Dad was literally jumping on the sofa yelling things to the TV like 'go get her Tal!' and 'that's my boy, make it painful!'.

"You two, come in and watch this!" Dad calls from the lounge. "Tal's gonna make another kill, I can feel it!"

Mom puts down the dishes, quickly drying her soapy hands on a towel and hurries into the lounge. I follow behind.

Inside the lounge, Dad is sat in his usual armchair, his body arched forwards to get closer to the flat screen TV that hangs on the wall. Rain, my older sister, perches on the sofa beside him and waves for me to join her. I walk over and take the seat beside her, letting my body relax as the cushions absorb my weight. Mick, my boyfriend and father of my baby, stands in the corner of the room and flashes me a quick smile. I smile back in return, although not really in the mood to feel happy.

I turn my attention to the screen and Tal fills the screen. He's pacing around another tribute, a non-career boy, and he grins as he wields his trident, his white teeth sparkling beneath his pink lips. The boy seems angry, a little too angry, then I realise why; Tal killed his ally. The boy fights out of anger and makes wild and frankly terribly swings at Tal with his short sword. Tal dodges them all with ease.

"Take a shot at him Tal!" Dad starts to yell at the TV. "Stab him with your trident; he's open, he's open!"

And as if Tal could hear him, he takes a stab at the boy's leg. The boy yelps out, but tries to make another go for Tal and misses, allowing Tal to trip him into a tree where his face slams painfully into the trunk. Ouch.

"Yeah, that's my boy!" Dad continues to cheer. "C'mon, give him a good beating! Show him what you're made of! Yeah, that's it!"

Tal now has the boy pinned up against the tree, his trident pressed up against the boy's neck. Blood trickles down his neck and onto his collar bone. There will be a lot more blood soon, I'm certain.

The next few seconds happen so quickly that I can't even understand what is happening. Out of nowhere, another tribute emerges from the trees and throws his sword. It hits Tal's back, burying itself deep in his torso.

Oh. My. God.

The room falls silent. We all stare in complete shock as Tal slumps to the ground. Dead.

Suddenly, Dad rises from his seat and storms out the room. I get up quickly and go after him. He strides out of the house, slamming the front door and almost shutting it on my face. I open it and rush out after him. As Dad storms down the street, I chase him, but I don't get far before I feel a sharp twinge in my stomach and have to stop. I lean on the wall and watch as Dad becomes a tiny figure in the distance.

Hearing the door open, I turn and see Mick walking down the pathway towards me. When he reaches me. he wraps his arms around me and hugs me tightly. The shock of my brother's death is still strong, so no tears fall down my face. I pull back from Mick and sit down on the wall.

"This wasn't meant to happen." I say. "This shouldn't have happened."

"I know, but it's the Games and things can be unpredictable." Mick replies.

"But he wasn't ready, I knew he wasn't." I say. "He was too early, he should have waited another two years. Maybe then he would have a better chance of winning."

Mick says nothing.

I drop my head. "This was supposed to be my year. I was supposed to volunteer for the Games, not Tal. It's my fault really that he's dead now. If I hadn't gotten pregnant then I could have won the Games and Tal would still be alive and here. This is all my fault; I'm so stupid."

"No, don't blame yourself." Mick says, wrapping an arm around my shoulder. "This wasn't your fault. He would have gone into the Games in two years anyway."

"Yeah, but he probably would have won then. I should have stopped him from volunteering. Dad should have stopped him instead of encouraging it. He just wanted to have a child in the Quarter Quell and because it wasn't me, it was Tal instead. But that's the thing; it should have been me. This was meant to be my year!"

"Brooklyn, please don't blame yourself. It was his choice. No-one else could tell him what to do."

"Well that's a thing about my brother," I sigh. "he's crap at making choices."

A/N- Okaii, so that was the latest installment of our outside chapters. And sorry for the Brooklyn thing, it can be confusing with two people with the same name, but I hope you were ok with that. I of course didn't do that deliberately, as Tal isn't my own character (unfortunately) so yeah, sorry for any confusion.

Well, thoughts? It's quite nice for me to write for other people, I like the range of characters, it gives me more to deal with and I like the challenge. Hopefully you all enjoy reading these chapters too :D

So the next two chapters will be the Final Eight Interviews, so the families of our remaining tributes will be interviewed in the Capitol. That should be interesting for me to tackle, I have some ideas already...

As usual, thanks to everyone for reading and sorry again for the late update, but it shan't happen in the next updates to come. Please do review, I am adoring your reviews, they are so lovely! THANK YOU!

Thanks, FireflyLlama xxx