Day fifteen:


Sperren Prazna, District 7, 17:

Beams of dull sunlight peeked through the tattered curtains -Sperren had tried to keep them as tightly bound as possible so that the light didn't hurt his head. He was slowly sobering up and facing the pain reality possessed, but he hardly had any liquor left to send him back into the haven of a drunken haze.

An empty bottle was cradled in his arms. In it was the dregs of a clear liquid - Speeren was unsure what liquid was in there, but it was a strong alcohol and that was enough. Not that he could afford strong or even cheap liquor; he had stolen it from a market so that he could find the loneliest room in the house and drown his sorrows.

He just wanted to esccape the atrocities of the earth.

Sperren tried holding onto something to stand up properly, but his mind was buzzing with the effects of alcohol and his limbs were refusing to co-operate with him. He was vaguely aware of the creaking door opening before a nasty voice followed. He really hoped it wasn't his parents or his brother.

Because Sperren detested his brother.

"Oh, Sperren." A voice tutted and Sperren looked up, vaguely aware of the kind eyes that were glancing into his dull, drunken ones. "What are we going to do with you?"

"More," Sperren mumbled, ignoring his mother. His mother, Alayne, was always sweet and caring - sometimes too much for her own good. Sperren found himself moaning in protest as his timid mother hoisted him onto his feet, wincing at his weight.

"Come on, get up." His mother said, more firmly. Sperren stumbled forward slightly, trying to keep himself onto his own feet. "You have work now Sperren... Come on, sober up!"

Sperren's mother was vaguely aware of Sperren's inner turmoil -sometimes she felt guilty of it, but Sperren didn't persecute his mother for the bottled up rage he constantly felt. She didn't make his life a misery, she only raised the man who introduced Sperren to the macabre world.

Sperren stumbled out of his room, taking a glance at the dim wooden corridor around him. His house was like one large woodshed - the typical house of a District Seven peasant. The smell of saw shavings and the dull wood that creaked beneath his feet was blocked out by his drunken stupor, despite his vision being blurred he couldn't ignore his reflection in the cracked mirror that was propped up on the wall.

In many ways he looked like any other boy; he had short plain brown hair and steely grey eyes, his face almost normal disregarding the fact that he had a scar covering the side of his face. Not even a daring cut that only added to whatever handsomeness he could've possessed, it stretched down from his temple all the way down to his jaw, looking red and cracked. Sometimes children down the road would point out that it made him look like the bogeyman.

Sperren couldn't agree more - he looked like a hideous monster, with half of his face disfigured and ruined.

And he wanted the person who caused his permanent wound dead more than anything else in the world.

Sperren's knees wobbled as he forced himself down the stairs. His mother walked behind him while he stumbled into the kitchen. Through his sore eyes he managed to make out the two men who were sat down- his gruff father, Gregon, and his brother Sabin.

Sabin had skin that seemed to be pasty and pale. He had received the same grey eyes Sperren had, but they glinted with malice. Sperren's fists clenched into fists when he saw the nasty smirk spread across his brother's face and he realised how much he detested his villainous brother- sometimes Sperren even thought of killing his brother.

Because Sabin was the reason why his voice was scarred and burnt.

Sabin had always been a nasty child. When Sperren was an infant Sabin had always destroyed his toys, hit him and he would have done anything to make life miserable... and then a couple of years after Sabin had taken it to the next level when there was a dispute over something as trivial as toys and the next thing he could remember was his head being dunked into the fireplace.

The memory still made Sperren tremble, no matter how intoxicated he was. He could still feel the burning flames press onto his face whilst the flesh began to bubble and melt.

"Drunk again?" Sabin glanced at Sperren and gave a taunting, evil smirk. "Pathetic waste of life, that boy is."

Sperren glanced at his brother, and without any further thought he lunged for Sabin's throat. Drunkenness and adrenaline obscured the whole world around him as he leapt across the breakfast table, knocking over and smashing a jug of milk his father had probably saved up for.

"Die bastard!" Sperren heard himself scream, almost as if he was watching the incident. He felt his hands close around his brothers throat, tighter... Tighter...

And then strong arms flung him back. Sperren groaned as his head hit the kitchen floor, soaked in milk. His mother glanced at the scene, her eyes full of shock and tears. His father, the one who had flung him back, looked at his son sympathetically.

"What were you doing?" Gregon asked, and though he tried to sound angry there was unmistakable sympathy.

"Killing the bastard," Sperren moved his hand to his head, which was bleeding lightly. His mother stormed out of the room in heaps of tears and his brother followed - probably to manipulate her with some kind of reassurance.

"Y'see Sperren, in life you're going to get angry... And you just have to hold it in, yeah?"

Sperren ignored his father's lecture and looked at a deer that was trying to drag itself through the rocky pathway into the forest, but its broken leg made it unable to move. Sperren always had a thing for innocence, he had grown up with such a dark world view it was nice to see specks of light.

As his dad offered words of sympathy the only thoughts that went through Sperren's mind were directed towards helping the poor deer.

Why was the world so cruel?


Naomi Lee, District 4, 15:

"Nay, are you going to wake up or what? Don't make me break the door down!"

Naomi jumped up and rubbed her tired eyes, trying to get the sleep out of them. Her father, James, shouted again. Rolling her eyes Naomi moved towards the door and swung it open.

"Can a girl get some privacy?" Naomi snapped. Once upon a time she did get on with her dad, but he grew distant since her mother passed away... She herself felt a little distant sometimes.

"Pat wants you at the pool as soon as possible," her father said, but she ignored him and closed the door to ready herself. Naomi was a selfish girl, and though she tried to be nice it was sometimes hard... What's the point in giving your all to other people anyway?

She raked a comb through her short brown hair, trying to make it neater. With her sparkling blue eyes Naomi liked to think of herself as beautiful, but there were still features she possessed that she disliked - defined arms and legs from training, she was too short for her liking and her breasts were much too big for any kind of athletics. To her dismay she was pretty, but only her eyes were exceptional.

After preparing herself she raced down the stairs, ready to sprint to her swimming lesson. Naomi's mother tried making Naomi do Career training but that was always a pain in the neck, so she quit it in favour of swimming. Swimming was Naomi's passion, she could swim so naturally it was like breathing.

"Hey there," Naomi heard a familiar voice say. The spun around and looked at her three friends, Jay, Ashlee and Mitch.

"You going swimming then?" Mitch smirked. Her friends were athletic too, but they preferred Career training.

"Yep, and I suppose you tough cookie Careers are learning how to decapitate someone or something?" Naomi bantered back.

"Ashlee needs to learn everything, she's volunteering next year." Jay said. Naomi looked at her only female friend, who was blatantly blushing so violently even the bright District Four sun couldn't hide it.

"Yeah," Ashlee gave a weak smile. "I think I'm ready."

"Good luck," Naomi told her friend, patting her back reassuringly. She wanted to tell her friend to stop being so idiotic... She had her whole life ahead of her and she was going to give it up! Naomi lived in the street with this years male tribute, Krindle Barnes and his family never seemed to go out the house anymore... Almost as if they were in constant mourning...

And they were.

"Thanks," Ashlee grinned. "And guess who is the District Four male volunteer?"

"Who?" Naomi asked, though her glumness made her not care.

"Well," Jay smirked, tapping his nose. "A little bird told me that Blaine Odesius plans to volunteer... To add honour to his family's sacred name, of course."

"You know Blaine don't you?" Ashlee giggled like a schoolgirl. "He's the tall, muscular and really gorgeous one..."

"Good luck killing him," Mitch snapped, probably out of jealousy. Ashlee suddenly looked disillusioned.

Naomi remembered Blaine. A boy in her year from a rich family. She had a crush on him for a long time, but after realising she had little to no chance she lost interest. It was weird that next year him, Ashlee, or both of them would be dead.

"Well I need to head off to swimming, the brother is expecting me." Naomi said, smiling at all her friends. Her eyes lingered on Ashlee, her close friend who was giving her life away.

"Bye," her friends chimed and as they walked off she could hear their chat about the Games. Mitch laughed huskily, as she did, and chanted a song about Maximotus being the winner.

Naomi personally hoped that Rayann won. Everyone in her District supported Maximotus, but she saw the psychopath for what he really was.

Naomi walked into the docks and admired the view. The ocean was spread out in front of her like a shimmering blanket, begging her to explore it. Various boats and swimming people were silhouettes in the setting sun. If Naomi was ever cooped up in the Games she knew she'd win any Career hands down if the arena was water related, her friends even compared her to a fish a couple of times.

"Hey Nay," Naomi looked at her older brother Pat when she moved into the water where she usually swam. Pat was in the water, looking up and grinning at her. "Why are you so down in the dumps?"

"Just the silly Hunger Games."

"Why, is Mitch finally volunteering after cowering out last year?" Pat laughed as Naomi dived gracefully into the water, which instantly cooled her skin. The water was a bit warm and very salty, but it always felt perfect to her.

"Ashlee is volunteering this year," Naomi said, trying to sound uncaring, starting her hundred laps of doing the breaststroke. Pat watched her keenly as she sped through the water like a torpedo.

"You don't want her to go, do you?" Pat said sympathetically once she had finished her laps. Naomi paused and nodded.

"After mum dying I don't think I can afford to lose anyone else, y'know?"

"Nice to see you're not being selfish," Pat smirked.

"Everyone is selfish, I'm just not afraid to be selfish." Naomi snapped back. She didn't like other people pointing out her weaknesses. "I don't want Ashlee to go because she makes me happy... That's selfish, if you think about it."

"I know, but you're a good kid." Pat smiled, looking into the distance. The sun was beginning to set and children were scurrying into their houses, probably to find out who the winner was.

"I don't feel like I am... I just wish people would make the right choices..."

"So you're the best person at making choices?"

"Always am," Naomi winked. "So... Backstroke now, right?"

Her brother smiled so much it almost brightened her day completely. "Let's push it to one hundred and fifty laps... Now go!"


Tarren Keenan, District 8, 14:

"I just can't eat it mother... I'm sorry."

"Of course you can, you love lamb."

Tarren hated feeling rude, but she couldn't help but reject her mother's dinner. Her mother was a good cook, and the smell wafting from the lamb and mashed potatoes was certainly delicious, but there were too many flaws.

"I do," Tarren said, pushing the plate away more forcefully. "But I don't know if you followed my recipe... You've done the gravy all wrong. You've touched it so it's contaminated and you know I hate the colour blue!"

"What does this have to do with it?" Morgan, Tarren's mother, shouted, gripping the plate in stress.

"Don't give me a blue plate!"

"Don't be so goddamn picky!" Her mother finally snapped, throwing the blue plate at the wall whilst being possessed by stress. The plate smashed against the wall, leaving a smear of gravy. Tarren's mother ran out of the room in tears.

Tarren tried understanding her mother, because she knew that her poor mother worked endlessly to provide her family with a more lavish lifestyle, but Tarren barely had any empathy. She didn't understand people, their minds were so full of strange emotions and thoughts.

She probably would've felt her mother's pain a bit more if she didn't have a mild form of Asperger's syndrome. Tarren barely understood people, art or any abstract ideas because of it and she suffered immensely.

There were bright sides - Tarren was a passionate person. She was passionate about the logical world around her, especially maths or physics, and because of her passion and need to stick to tight schedules she was a mathematical prodigy.

Tarren sped into her room in a bid to escape from the world she disliked so much. Her parent's hated the fact that their daughter was so introverted, they always found it unhealthy that their daughter was cooped up in her room like a hermit, but for Tarren it was therapy.

Hearing her mothers screams and thinking about the recent argument filled Tarren with stress, so once her bedroom door was slammed closed she curled herself up into a tiny ball and she rocked herself back and forth, hoping to drown out any noise.

Unfortunately her hope was ruined by a knock on the door. Tarren glanced up at her father, Toby, who had warm brown eyes and a kind smile.

"Hello, my little Keenan calculator," her father greeted her with the nickname Tarren had been given my the whole District. As much as she loved maths, she hated the recognition she had gotten from the rest of the District.

"Don't call me that," Tarren muttered, her voice was almost threatening.

"You should apologise to your mother Tarren," Toby sighed. There was no response from his daughter. "You upset her."

"I know."

"You should come down and say sorry," he said hopefully. Tarren admired her father because he worked hard and managed to

remain calm, and therefore he was the mediator of the family. "You know it's quarter past seven..."

"Time for dessert," Tarren sighed, remembering her whole schedule off my heart. "I promised Ally she could come here at twenty past."

"I'll let her in when she comes," her father smiled weakly once more whilst he walked out the room.

Ally was Tarren's only friend, and she had Rett's syndrome. Tarren had found it difficult building relationships and making friends, but Ally and Tarren got on well from day one since they could relate and sympathise with each other. They weren't normal friends; they barely talked because their silence spoke loud enough and instead of gossiping or dressing up they spent their time reading books and learning equations.

They weren't without their differences though; Tarren loved physics and maths, whereas Ally preferred to acquaint herself with the sticky sciences of biology and chemistry.

When Ally answered Tarren glanced up from the textbook she had been reading and walked over to her friend. They barely said a word, Tarren spread Ally's hand out like a fan in greeting and touched every finger, thumb to pinky, with her own index finger- it was her way of telling people she cared about them.

"I don't like the Hunger Games," Ally said as they sat down and opened a textbook. Tarren listened to her friend but her mind was busy memorising the hundreds of equations on the pages. Tarren had a remarkable memory, and it often helped her learn.

"There isn't a logical reason for the Games," Tarren said after what could have been ten minutes. "Did you watch the finale?"

"My parents did." Ally huffed.

"Who made it to the final two?" Tarren asked. Though viewing was compulsory her eyes were often glued to the pages of a maths textbook instead of dying teenagers.

"The Five girl who is kind of okay and the despicable One boy."

"I don't think he's despicable," Tarren smiled as she jotted some notes down.

"He's a psychopath!" Ally exclaimed after another ten minutes of silence, her head obscured by a large chemistry book.

"Psychopathy is a mental disorder," Tarren explained. "Kind of like our disorders... He's still human, he just thinks differently than the rest of society and he gets punished for it... Don't you sympathise with him a bit?"

"I guess."

"So they're keeping the winner a secret? I hate that. I hate surprises." Tarren mumbled.

Tarren glanced up from her book and almost cringed at herself when she caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror. What would she do if she were in the Games? Die probably. She was a remarkably skinny teenager with no social skills.

But the chances were four in thousands. If she was answering that as a question regarding probability, the odds of her being reaped were ridiculously unlikely.

"Ally, can you question me about these," she handed the textbook over to her friend and grinned, shaking any grim thoughts out of her head. "Particularly Fermat's Last Theorem... It's supposed one of the hardest mathematical equations ever, but I understand it."

And naturally she intended to solve it- by eight o' clock. And she had to re-revise Newton's laws of physics by quarter past eight, just to make sure she knew them word for word.

Schedules made life so much easier.


Blaine Odesius, District 4, 17:

The Career centre was suddenly full of shouts and screams of celebration. Next year's volunteers were finally going to represent the District and be announced as tributes publicly.

And Blaine was going to be one of them. After training for years he knew that this was finally the chance to show his father that he was worthy of recognition, that he could bring honour to the family name.

So his trainer submitted him as District Four's volunteer. Blaine felt he was ready, and this was his last year to become a contender, so he knew that he was ready. District Four's Careers were much more civilised than the other Career Districts because they hand picked their volunteers: District One were first come first serve, whereas District Two fought to clamber onto the Reaping stage.

Last year both volunteers chickened out of volunteering, but Blaine knew he was going to volunteer and win.

"Remember, when you're announced you have to get up on the stage and smile - act humble," Blaine's father started nagging as the leading Career training hushed the Careers and party goers. "Don't appear soft and let your District partner know she's up for a fight."

"She's up for dying," Blaine muttered back to his father. "We know who's going to win the two hundred and third Hunger Games, don't we, father?"

Blaine's father glared at him dryly. "It's not going to be you, that's for sure. I knew you were a failure from the moment you went against my wishes."

Blaine felt his stomach tie itself into a knot. He wanted to disagree, because he knew he was the epitome of masculine perfection; he was good looking, intelligent and the perfect athlete and Career, but when he was younger he got into a lot of fights, rebelled and convinced his father that he was never going to live up to the Odesius name.

And the Odesius name was a lot to live up to: Blaine's father was the most powerful business man in the District, possessing countless amounts of businesses and estates, and since his wife died he had a cruel heart to assist him.

Blaine liked to think that his mother would approve of him, even if his father didn't. When he won the Games his father's mind would definitely be changed.

"So we have our volunteers - Volunteering to fight and win for the two hundredth and third Games is Blaine Odesius and Ashlee Finn!"

Blaine put on his cocky smile and swaggered to the front of the stage, trying to hear through the deafening applause. All those Careers weren't cheering for that mediocre Ashlee girl, that was for sure.

"H-hi." Ashley muttered once they met up on the makeshift stage. She looked up at Blaine and smiled, obviously intimidated and attracted to him.

"Don't talk to me," Blaine sighed, turning away from the girl. She may have been attracted to him but countless other girls were too. "I don't know why you're volunteering. You're dead meat."

The girl looked up at him and whimpered, and Blaine smiled as the realisation hit him; his opponent was useless. If the other Careers were the same the Games would be in the bag.

Blaine stormed away from her in order to speak to rich people. Blaine always liked mixing himself with the upper-class; he felt they were the only people who were worthy of his attention.

After trying to impress the Mayor's family but talking about philosophy and rejecting some burly Career girl's advances Blaine smirked as a blonde socialite brushed past him, grinning widely when her eyes met his.

"Odesius... How come I know that name?" She purred.

"My father is a businessman," Blaine told her, ignoring the fact he could see his father glaring at him across the room. "You'd know him."

"I think I do," the woman giggled. "Perfect lips, nice nose, firm jaw... All so familiar."

"Disregarding the fact I can make a success out of myself Caprice," Blaine's father laughed slyly, brushing past them. "My boy is doomed for failure - no wife, no children or anything."

Without a further word Blaine's father hurried past the two and moved towards the buffet table.

"Typical businessman - cold." Caprice sighed, brushing her long fingernails through her mane of bleached hair.

"He's just worried about me," Blaine lied, but once again his confidence had been dented.

"He has no reason to," the girl assured Blaine, sliding her hands up his arm suggestively. "I know a victor when I see one."

"It isn't my District partner by any chance, is it?" Blaine muttered huskily into the woman's ear. He was hoping that her kind words would feed his ego, and he knew where the conversation was leading - he had done it before, and his numerous meaningless sexual adventures always benefited him in one way or another. This socialite would easily be able to reap in some sponsors for next year.

His lips were seconds away from pressing against Caprice's, but then an angry voice halted him.

"Blaine, what're you doing?" Blaine instantly recognised the voice as Coral's.

Coral was Blaine's only friend, and though he was unsure he felt he loved her; she saw through his arrogant ways and pretty face, she appreciated him for who he was... Or who he wanted to be.

"I'll leave then," Caprice sighed, casually walking away to find another man.

"I came here to congratulate you," Coral said to Blaine, though she sounded furious. "Even though I hate the Games... I came to wish you the best of luck..."

"I'm sorry..." Blaine started, actually feeling embarrassed.

"No need, good luck with winning." Coral's eyes were full of tears.

"Coral... I..."

Blaine tried to talk, but he felt strangled by emotion and his only friend pushed through the crowd until she was out of sight. Though he knew he was going to win or that he was good looking, intelligent, strong, athletic and perfect Blaine couldn't help but feel like a failure for the millionth time.

"I love you." He muttered to himself, though it was probably too late to say it.


Elise McElroy, District 9, 12:

"Elise honey, do you want a glass of water?"

Elise turned around and smiled at the matron of the orphanage she was in, and it confused her slightly that the matron cowered under her innocent stare.

"Yes please," she smiled, watching as the matron sighed with relief before scurrying out of the room.

Her wide blue eyes turned to the dim television screen, where laughing commentators were making 'Maximotus Leprenzo' jokes. Elise rolled her eyes, she may have been young but she found immature jokes stupid.

"Here's a good one - Maximotus Leprenzo can cut through hot knives with butter!" Some green haired man laughed. Elise cringed and switched off the television.

She found the Hunger Games silly and inhumane, but most other twelve year olds in the District thought the same. Elise was a lover of things a girl her age would love - hopscotch, singing and playing games that didn't involve killing.

Although she liked to think she was normal she was wrong, because she felt scarred mentally. A couple of years ago she lost her parents and her brother in mysterious circumstances, but she knew that they were murdered by a sick, twisted psychopath.

The Peacekeepers tried asking her what happened, but she made it clear that she was clueless. All she could remember was that one minute they were having dinner and the next she was sobbing and clinging onto her dead mother's body, looking around at the scarring scene; blood smeared the walls, innards were sprawled across the carpet...

The image still burnt in her mind and haunted her memories. For a second she felt herself wanting to escape from the orphanage, or "community home" - that's what the Peacekeepers wanted to call it.

She walked out of her room and stormed down the stairs, in one room there were a bunch of thirteen year olds eagerly listening out for the victor.

"The victor has pulled through and survived multiple injuries, and will be announced publicly in an hour."

Ignoring the ridiculous television Elise stormed out of the building, sighing in content as the cool District Nine air hit her face.

"Well, well, well." A deep voice laughed. "If it isn't E."

E was the nickname that she had been given by the other orphans because she was too shy to tell them her full name - not that any of them approached her in the first place.

Elise turned around and caught a glimpse of a tall eighteen year old who had a cigarette in one hand and a nasty grin. He was one of the older orphans who taunted her, and he'd be gone very soon - thankfully.

"Hi," Elise muttered, unsure about what this boy wanted. She turned away from him and picked up a stone, moving over to the chalk scrawled on the floor to play hopscotch.

"Why aren't you cooped up in your room?" The boy asked. "What made you decide to go outside?"

"Why would you want to know?" Elise asked, throwing her stone so that it landed on one of the squares.

The boy waited for Elise to hop to her destination before continuing. "I've heard things about you."

"Bad things?" Elise asked sweetly.

"Yep," the boy confirmed.

"They're wrong," Elise immediately answered, picking up the stone again and glancing at it. For a second her memory started collecting itself - her hands were wrapped around a boy's neck as he thrashed and screamed.

"I'm sure they're right, even the matrons are scared of you." The boy laughed.

"You're jealous," Elise said, though something inside her was hurt by the boy's comments. She tried being nice, sweet and polite, so what was wrong? "You're just bitter because no-one adopted you."

"No-one wants to adopt you, either." The boy smirked. "We're just the same, we're both bad eggs." He paused to take a drag of his cigarette. "You just have an angel face to accompany it."

"Sticks and stones may break my bones but names will never hurt me," Elise sang, trying to ignore the boys comments whilst an anger that was alien to her started raging.

"Sammy Tompon told me he went out into the woods one day for a smoke and he stumbled across you torturing a cat," the boy taunted her.

"Sticks and stones may break my bones but names will never hurt me..." Elise continued chanting, holding the rock so hard in her hand it almost cut through the skin. More memories hit her... A cat twitched and yelped whilst she slowly snapped every bone in its body.

"And I overheard Mrs. James talking... She said she went into your room and found animal corpses and torture devices made out of tin."

"Sticks and stones..." Elise continued muttering, feeling her heart race as she struggled to utter the other words. In her mind she was carving a tin can into a makeshift knife, fantasising about ramming it into human flesh so that it scraped the bone beneath.

"You're a psychopath..." The boy laughed, throwing his cigarette aside.

"Sticks and stones..." Elise shouted furiously, her head twitched and jerked violently as a darker part of her began to claw out of her mind, dying to reveal itself.

"And rumour has it you killed-"

Elise snapped in a split second, her whole appearance seemed to change. Her angel face twisted into a devilish one, her milky white skin seemed to belong to a corpse and her blue eyes flared threateningly as her darker side began to manifest itself. She was a different Elise now, a darker Elise.

She was now ready to kill.

The guy screamed out in pain as she leapt at him, jumping as if she were possessed supernaturally. He was slammed into the ground, and though he was stronger naturally she had already stopped him by jamming the sharp rock into the boys neck so that it pierced his jugular.

What was once used to play hopscotch was now a murder weapon- like Elise it had changed into something malicious in a split second.

"Sticks and stones may break my bones," Elise laughed as she looked at the dying boy. "But they'll end up slitting your throat."

All those memories she had forgotten suddenly returned, the memories of all the killing she'd done, the way she strangled her brother and tortured animals-

Elise had even killed her parents.

It was such a shame she'd forget it all again once her state of mind had returned to normal


Leonardo Brydon, District 10, 15:

Leo stared intently at the screen, watching as there were numerous newsflashes on how the Victor was recovering... One of the tributes in the final two was dead and the other was in a critical condition.

Leo winced and moved his hand to his neck, slowly brushing it down his stomach.

"It's just not right," Leo's father sighed, glaring at the television. "I knew the Splice's, the good ol' parents of that girl... I used to trade cattle with 'em."

Leo's father wasn't going to be working anymore - he had been involved in an accident which had rendered him paralysed, and since then the family had been working relentlessly hard; with their main worker down, their mother too busy with cleaning and cooking and an autistic brother Leo and his sister Katya were the only ones who could run the family business.

Even then, something in Katya snapped and she succumbed into silence, doing nothing but lurking in her room all day. The stress had slowly gotten to Leo - the family alone relied on him.

Leo wished there wasn't so much weight on his shoulders; he was popular and charismatic with great leadership skills... He deserved to do more than feed cattle and ride horses.

"Leo..." Leo heard his mother talking and turned to face her. His mother was a big woman with a bigger smile and a warm heart to match. "I'm cookin' the dinner... Why don't you go an' fetch your brother and sister?"

"Yeah, alright." Leo said, moving into the other room where his siblings slept. Leo's house was particularly small, only holding four rooms in one floor.

His sister Katya was glancing out of a dusty window, her empty eyes clenched in sadness. On the bed, seeming much more happy in a bubble of thought was Leo's older brother Blakely. Blakely was the oldest sibling in the family, but his mentality made him the baby.

"Dinner guys," Leo said, almost half heartedly. "Come on..."

Leo had a tendency to run his family as if he were the father - he always wanted to be a leader of some sort, he was interested in every else's welfare and he wanted his siblings to have the best life possible.

When he grabbed Katya's shoulders and tried moving her she didn't budge. Leo was stronger - his arms were well defined from pulling cattle - but he wasn't going to move Katya with force.

"Hunger is a temptation," Katya said, going off on one of those strange wisdom rants that she did. "Temptation is sin... Leo, I can't sin again..."

"What are you going on about?" Leo sighed, looking down at his empty sister and feeling his gut churn.

"She's got something to tell you," Blakely said behind him indifferently, stroking a mouse that he'd found and holding it in his hands. "She told me she has a secret..."

"Please leave Blakely," Leo told his brother calmly, feeling his patience waver. He waited until his brother strolled into the other room before turning to his sister.

"What's this secret, Katya?" Leo asked his sister, his voice threateningly low. At times like this Leo wasn't afraid to be slightly more aggressive - sometimes you had to be cruel to be kind.

Katya didn't reply, she just wiped her watering eyes.

"Katya..." Leo held onto her arm. "You have to tell-"

"I was raped, okay?" Katya shrieked, glaring into her brother's eyes angrily - her voice had been filled with emotion for the first time in months. "Are you happy now?"

Leo tried opening his mouth to speak but the words refused to come out. The revalation had sent his mind numb in shock, he was unable to process any thoughts or emotions but a million questions still swirled around in his head - Who did that? When did somebody do that? Why did they do that?

How could anybody have the heart to destroy his loveable sister like that?

"Wh-" Leo tried speaking but only half a word managed to go out. His sister looked at him, full of guilt and misery, before storming into the other room.

His limbs almost refused to work, and though they felt stiff with with shock Leo still managed to sit on the nearest mattress.

In just five seconds his world had been torn upside down and more weight had been thrown onto him. Did he truly deserve this? He thought he was capable of holding his family together, despite all of the setbacks.

It seemed like if fate existed it was out to get him: the poorness of his family and the hardships they had to go through, the fact his brother was autistic, his father's crippling accident and now his sister's...

He wouldn't say the word. He'd heard that word been used before in the news flashes across Panem and the word packed so much pain in it - even the word 'murder' seemed easier to muster.

But rape... That was something else.

"Leo you better go get your dinner!" Leo heard his mother shout. He stood up and glanced at himself in the dusty mirror one last time, seeing the tall, shocked boy with inky black hair and dark eyes full of shock.

What came next? What did he do?

He just couldn't give up. Leo knew he had to fight for his family, and though he felt torn emotionally he was going to work on... He wasn't going to shut down emotionally like his sister.

"Leo!" His mother shouted again, sounding angered and impatient. Leo stood up slowly, his knees trembling with the numbness, before moving into the living room.

"An' then there was this time when I met a horse dealer an' he-" Leo could hear his father blabbing on about his old business with an uninterested Katya - he didn't plan to tell his parents about what his sister had gone through because they'd faced enough turmoil.

And then the family had been hushed when the television's newsflash popped on. The President's daughter, Natalia Nystalgia, strolled on with her raven black hair and a regal billowing dress to match.

In her hand was a card, and the victor's name was on it...

"Dear Panem, as the President's daughter I am pleased to have the honour of announcing the victor..." She said formally, her gloved hands shaking with excitement as she grinned, looking at the name of the fortunate victor on the card. "The winner is..."

The words slipped out of her mouth, and the winner was announced.


Woo!

I'm really sorry if this chapter seemer rubbish- I had a minor case of writer's block, but I fought on anyway.

These are all the tributes I have so far- and there are 2 reserved tributes to accompany them, giving me 15 tributes.

Know anyone cool (a.k.a one who reviews a lot)? Send them in this direction: I have D1 boy, D2 boy, D3 girl, D5 boy, D6 boy, and both 11 and 12 tributes available :)

~Toxic

Question: First impressions on the new tributes?