His grip was like iron around her throat.

It was crushing her neck enough that it mostly cut off her air supply, making her fall in and out of focus as black, hazy clouds obscured her vision and a vicious, high pitched ringing was going trough her ears. Twice she had nearly passed out, but he had released his grip on her neck so that she would remain conscious. She held her hands against his wrist, not really trying to get him to release her, as it was the wrong thing to do. And even so, she didn't want to hurt him. Even if he was threatening to crush her windpipe with his bare hand as he held her against the wall.

"What did we say about this?" He shouted to her, a vicious snarl was twisted on his face as he stared at her. "What the fuck have we been telling you for years upon fucking years now?" When she didn't answer him immediately, mostly due to having a hand clamped to her throat, he pulled her away from the wall before shoving her back against it. The pictures that hung on the wall shook from the force of the slam as he pressed her even tighter against the wall. So while he wasn't squeezing any harder, her breathing still became more restricted. "Answer me, Marsha, you retarded mud slide!"

Marsha tried to answer, but all that came out were weak, chocking noises that were impossible to understand. "I can't understand you! Speak clearly!" The man demanded, before Marsha tried once again to speak through the hand that was strangling her.

By now, her face was beginning to turn purple and she was almost blinded. She tried to pry off the hand with as much force as she could get away with, but it wasn't enough. Marsha knew that she could try harder, but that would only get her in more trouble. She really didn't know if she was going to die in a few seconds or not, but if she did, she knew that she deserved it. That she had brought it upon herself.

Just before she lost consciousness, she found herself being released. Her throat still felt as if something was grabbing it, but with not nearly as much force as before.

Marsha gasped as she gulped on the air that was being offered to her. She grabbed at her neck and started rubbing it, trying to make it feel better. As she did, she collapsed onto both her knees, knocking over a flower stand and sending the vase to the floor, shattering it. She flinched at the unexpected sound, but could barely see in front of her, so she didn't know what happened. And that scared her a little more.

There was no blood on her neck, but from what she could feel, there were going to be bruises forming and she knew that it was going to be looking a dark shade of red.

With each breath that passed down her throat, Marsha gave out three ragged coughs. That is, until it lessend to two ragged coughs per breath. Then one.

Tears had formed in her eyes thanks to being strangled and the pain that she was experiencing. But the physical pain wasn't the worst part of it. It was the pain that was inside of her that hurt the most. The disappointment and the guilt. "Get up!" The man ordered. "Get the fuck up!"

Marsha got to her feet as quickly as she could, but it wasn't fast enough for the man as he yanked Marsha to her feet and slammed her into the wall again.

Marsha's sight had mostly returned to her, and she looked the man in front of her. With short black hair, tanned skin, and the same shade of blue eyes as her and her brother, Marsha looked at her father, Damian Trent, who looked at her with the same expression as her brother whenever she did him wrong. But, Marsha could sense that her father was much more in a rageful mood that her brother. "Can you talk now?" He asked, still screaming at her so loudly that it was hurting her ears. She wanted nothing more than to get away from the insanely loud noise, but knew better than to do that. "Can you fucking talk now?"

Marsha nodded her head as she continued to rub her irritated throat.

CRACK!

The sound of flesh hitting flesh rang out in the air as Marsha felt herself getting slapped by her father. She felt her teeth puncture the inside of her cheek and tasted the metallic blood that poured from her wound. "If you can talk, then talk! Don't nod her head like a god damn retard! Though I guess you can't help it, can you!"

Her father was a strong man from working at one of the dock yards, where he loaded and unloaded supplies going to and from The Capitol. And even though she was only two inches shorter than him, Marsha knew that it was best not to piss him off anymore than she already had. "So let's try this again! Can! You! TALK!"

"Thess." Marsha managed to say through her tightened throat.

"Doesn't fucking seem like it!" Her father shouted to her. "And why's that?"

"Thecause thu thrabed-" Marsha began to answer, only to be interjected by her father.

"Because you're fucking retarded! So mind bendingly stupid that you can't even talk properly! And guess what? You think that you can just get away with humiliating your brother like that? You think you can taint the Trent family name even more than you already have? Who do you think you are? You think you're so much god damn better than the rest of us?"

"Bo." Marsha answered, shamefully.

Before she knew it, she felt her father punch her across the face, and the torn inside of her cheek grew wider as it sprayed blood in her mouth, coating her tongue.

"Then why!" Punch. "Did you!" Punch. "Humiliate!" Punch. "Your!" Punch. "Brother?" Punch. By now, blood was flying out of Marsha's mouth with every blow. She didn't fall down though. She only stumbled. Her father grabbed her by the front of her shirt to prevent her from stepping too far away from him. "Well? Answer me you little shit! If you even can!"

Marsha thought of why she had done what she had done to her brother. It was because when the class was taking a break from their lessons, it just so happened that her brother's class was outside as well. But she had been too absorbed in her knot tying to notice that they had came out for their lessons. That is, until a lead ball almost landed on her lap.

Cruise then came over, and apologized, before he lifted the heavy ball up over his head, and nearly made it fall on her leg. Marsha had seen it coming, and moved out of the way. And because Cruise had nearly tried to destroy her leg, she had became angry. But since her mom and dad had told her not to hit him, she didn't. Instead, she got him in a stand up guillotine choke.

Cruise then tried to get out of it, but Marsha then fell on her butt and wrapped her legs around his waist. Cruise then could only then uselessly bat at her sides before academy instructors broke them apart. Even so, it had taken several of them to get her to release her brother. And by the time he had been released, his face was a dark red and he was gasping for air.

Marsha then get punched repeatedly by the instructors for making a fight.

Marsha felt that it was unfair that all she was doing was defending herself when Cruise had tried to cripple her. But then again, the academy instructors didn't like her all that much.

Then she came home, and when her parents found out about what happened today, her father went over to teach her a lesson.

"Thi fident fert fim." Marsha told her dad before a loud crack occurred. Her father's fist didn't hit her. Instead, he had punched a hole in the wall. His fist just inches away from her, causing her to flinch and move away from his arm.

"Don't hit your brother! Don't hurt your brother! Don't humiliate your brother!" He shouted to her as he withdrew his fist from the wall. Dust sprinkled down from his fist and arm like off coloured snow. "Now look at what you made me do! Look at what you did to the wall!" He then shoved her to the wall. "Now clean that mess up! Hope you learned your lesson! Hopefully it'll stick!"

Marsha watched her father walk away as she collected a broom and dustpan to clean the mess up.

She thought of how she had deserved what she had gotten. After all, she was told not to hit her brother, or humiliate him. She was told not to make the family look bad. She had disobeyed what her parents wanted. She had made them mad. And thus, she deserved what had happened to her.

When she returned to the messy room to clean up, Marsha heard her parents give out soothing words to twelve year old Cruise, telling him that things were going to be alright. That things were fixed and that she, his thirteen year old sister, wasn't going to be causing any problems for him anymore. She then caught a glance of them holding each other. Her parents told Cruise how proud they were of him, and that he was going to be a croc trainee in no time. How he was going to be a great victor one day and not to worry about his retarded sister.

I'm autistic. Marsha thought as she felt the hot blood run out her mouth and slide down her lips and chin before hitting the floor.


Marsha thought of Thor's request to her. To go comfort Dayta in her time of crisis. But how was she going to do that, when she didn't even know what to do? After all, the only thing she had been given by her parents was hate. And the only thing she had been given by the district was hate. And Cruise, all he did was hate her. So what could she do for Dayta?

She had asked Thor how she could comfort someone, but he had told her that he didn't know. So she was really lost on what to do with Dayta.

Marsha wanted to ask Terra if she knew how to comfort people, but she was gone before she could ask her. That left her on her own, to figure it out.

Marsha tried to think of what it meant to comfort someone.

She thought and she thought and she thought, racking her brain for an answer. Any answer. She didn't think about the district, and tried to think of the other tributes before they had been placed in the arena. What had she seen that was of tributes comforting tributes?

She thought of Ryan and Ashton, how they were holding each other a lot. How it seemed to ease Ashton a little when she had discovered that she was one of the more popular choices of fuck buddy at The Sinning Temptation.

Marsha figured that she could do that, but she didn't really like touching people on her own accord. So she pushed that idea out of the way and thought some more.

She didn't see that much comforting going on during her days in The Capitol. The escorts didn't seem to give a damn about her. Blue neither. She had had little contact with the other tributes before Thor had invited her into the alliance. And she had been busy enjoying her knots before she had to go into the arena and die, so she didn't look at the other tributes a whole lot. Marsha wished she had so that she could help her little ally out.

I have to think about District Four. Marsha thought bitterly as she tried to recall comforting moments. But not towards her. She tried to think of things that the academy instructors, her parents, or even random people on the street, did for anybody but her. Hmm...

She thought of different things that she had seen, before she came to one that she thought was a good one. It involved two teenagers that were supposedly in love with each other. The girl had been having a bad day at the academy, and her boyfriend had cheered her up by hugging her and wiping away her tears and saying a few words. After that, she seemed to be a whole lot better.

Marsha looked to Dayta, and thought that it was a good plan. The girl had stopped crying, so Dayta might as well. I just won't go with the touching.

Feeling good about her plan, Marsha walked up to Dayta, who still hadn't noticed her when she was right in front of her. Dayta was on her knees and had her hands in front of her face as she cried into them. Marsha squatted down in front of her, going down to more her level, and began to speak her comforting words in the most comforting voice she could give.

"They, thuo foudent fly. Fee thont fly. Tom fow. Thell fee thuts fong."

At that, Marsha saw Dayta lower her hands and look at her. She was no longer wailing into her hands, and Marsha saw that as the first step to comforting Dayta. Heh. This is going just like I planned. Marsha thought as she smiled at Dayta. Only to find that Dayta was now flailing her fists up and down on her like an angry little girl. The sudden change and the fact that Dayta had started to unexpectedly hit her, even though it hardly hurt, startled her so much that she started to scream.

Marsha held her arms out in defence, but Dayta continued to swing her fists up and down at her like she was trying to pound her into the floor. It caused Marsha to fall on her side as she continued to scream. Dayta continued to hit her.

"We don't cry! We don't cry! We don't cry! We don't cry!" Dayta screamed at her, hurting her ears. "Who's the we? Is it you? You bronholes? Well I'm not a bronhole! I'm human! Not like you and Thor and Terra and Blue and Splendor and Radiance! So why shouldn't I cry? And why am I crying you... You... God damn humanoid machine! Is your soul as black as your hair? Do you even have a heart in that fat chest of yours? Do you bleed black oil instead of red blood? I'm crying because I felt another human die in my hands! I felt her last breath! Her last heart beat! I felt her dying! Dying! Dying! Dying!"

Marsha could hardly hear Dayta over her own frantic thoughts of danger. Her mind screaming at her that she was in trouble. That she needed to get out of there.

Marsha wanted to get out of there and calm herself down, but it was impossible with Dayta now on her and raining down fists. "Can you understand me? Can you understand me you heartless machine? Heartless machine! Heartless machine! Heartless machine!"

The blows lasted another couple of seconds before she felt Dayta's body get off of her, to which she was free to spring up to her feet and start spinning around to calm herself.

"Christ." Thor's voice said, clearly displeased. "Terra and I leave for five minutes and you two are already trying to kill each other? Marsha, didn't I tell you to comfort her?"

Of course, Marsha didn't answer as she continued to calm herself. Even so, she heard Thor give out a great sigh. "Also, what the hell's wrong with you? Why are you spinning around like that?" A couple of seconds passed before Marsha heard him talking again. "Hey! I'm asking you why you're-" She then felt him touch her, which caused her to scream out again and bat at him with her arms as she continued to spin around. "Stop it!" Thor commanded as he grabbed onto her arms, preventing her from spinning. Preventing her from attempting to remedy her stress.

That freaked her out even more. She wanted to calm down. She wanted him away from her. So she grabbed him by the waist, lifted him up, and threw him away from her before she proceeded to spin around again, giving out disgruntled moans.

She wanted her sudden, built up stress to disappear. She wanted to be calm again. And in order to do that, she needed to purge all that negative, pent up energy from within. So she continued to spin.

She continued to spin and moan to herself until finally, she was calmed again.

When she was calm once again, she turned back to her allies, two of which were just looking at her, while the third was still on the ground with tears running down her face. "You done?" Thor asked.

"Guess." Marsha told him.

"Guess?" Thor asked.

"Guess." Marsha repeated, hating that she couldn't even say yes properly. "Y. E. Ess."

"Oh." Thor said, understanding her finally."Okay. Now, Marsha, Terra, come with me for a moment."

Marsha followed Thor and Terra closely as they walked a fair distance away from Dayta. "So," Thor said when they were a good distance away. They could still see Dayta, but she wouldn't be able to hear them clearly. "Marsha. What did you do?"

"Thrid fo fumert ther." Marsha answered truthfully.

"Didn't seem to do a good job at that." He told her before sighing before he placed a hand to his face. "God. Why must sticks be so hard. If she were like us, I'd just demand that she stop being such a clay ass and drag her with us. But no, that would cause her to want to abandon the alliance."

"I think she's thinking about that right now." Terra told him. It caused Thor to give out a small growl of frustration.

"I can see that. Arah. What a pain. Wish it were easy to just get her to move."

"Fhow thong fou fink these nana fay fick fat?" Marsha asked, wondering if Dayta was just going to sit there all day, crying and feeling sorry for herself. She thought of what would have happened to her in District Four if people saw her like that. They'd make fun of her. Point and laugh at her. Maybe they'd smack her around a little. Call her useless, and a cry baby. And other things of that sort.

"From what I've seen in previous games, sticks can be like that for hours. Maybe even longer."

"It's time that we don't have." Terra reminded.

"I know that." Thor shot back. "But I don't know how to comfort some stick. And Marsha here doesn't either. So what are you going to do, Terra? You even got a plan? You going to tell her that at least she's not like us? Some worthless warriors that aren't even worth the academy's time? Or should even be respected by the district for that matter? Are you going to comfort her by saying things like that?"

Marsha hated that she was seen that way by the district. No matter what she did, she was seen as worthless. Nothing worth praising, or even acknowledging anything good about. She was either wrong, or not good enough.

"I'm going to try something." Terra replied. "Something that my sister did back in District Two. Or at least, my method is going to be influenced by what my sister did."

"Thit ther?" Marsha asked.

"No." Terra answered as she walked away. "But if what I do doesn't work, then I will. And we're taking her to the base whether she wants to or not."

"Fhat face?" Marsha asked, wondering where and what the base was.

"I don't really know what the base is either," Thor told her. "But I do hope that Terra can somehow convince Dayta to come with us instead of spending the next hour or whatever crying over there."

"Dink the fan foo dit?" Marsha asked.

"I don't know." Thor answered. "I mean, have you seen and heard Terra? She has a cold and flat voice that conveys no emotion. Same with her facial expressions. Plus, she was raised in the same district as me. You really think that she's on the same level as a stick?"

Marsha didn't know how to reply to that, so she kept silent and watched as the pale skinned girl walked up to Dayta before she grabbed her and lifted her to her feet.

"Leave me alone!" Dayta screamed at Terra before she began to swing at her. Dayta's swings were wide and clumsy, allowing Terra to easily dodge. "Alone!" Dayta cried out as she continued to swing as Terra continued to dodge. "Alone! Alone!"

"What is she doing?" Thor asked, to which Marsha didn't know. Terra could easily take down Dayta, but she wasn't. Instead, she was letting her ally swing at her, and doing nothing to stop her.

Dayta continued to swing at Terra until her swings became more and more slow. Until, at last, her swings had almost no power in them. That's when Terra allowed the fists to connect with her body. But to no visible effect.

"Hitting me won't make you're problems go away." Terra told her as the powerless punches hit her.

"Go! Away!" Dayta cried to her, still weakly attempting to hurt her.

"No." Terra calmly stated as pitiful punches continued to hit her. That caused Dayta to scream and let her fists continue to fly.

"Seriously..." Thor sighed. "What is she doing?" Marsha was wondering the same thing.

Dayta's swings suddenly stopped, and Marsha could see that the stick was breathing heavily. She had no more strength to try and fight. Surly Terra would attack now. Right?

And Terra did do something, but it wasn't something that Marsha expected, for Terra wrapped her arms around Dayta. Marsha couldn't understand it, as Dayta didn't seem to like it. She kept on screaming and insulting Terra as she swung uselessly at her sides, before she finally started to hug her back.

"It's okay." Terra told her. "It's okay. Just let it out."

Marsha was really confused, as Dayta had quickly calmed down, when she had just been fighting Terra not that long ago. Dayta had been fighting her, and Thor, not that long ago. But now... She wasn't.

She watched as Terra and Dayta spoke some more, before they finally released each other, and Dayta was crying less and looked less hysterical. Marsha really couldn't fathom it.

The two girls talked some more before Terra nudged her head towards them. Marsha saw Thor walking towards them, and she figured that she'd better follow.

The two of them approached the two girls before Terra announced to them. "She's feeling a little bit better, it seems. Just give her a little more time to calm down as we head out."

"Oh, good." Thor said. "Come on then. You can calm down some more while we travel to the base Terra found. It'll be a good place to cool off."

Dayta just nodded before they gathered their supplies before they headed over to Ivy's body to strip her of everything she had, including her clothes that could be used for makeshift bandages or other things. "Stick close." Thor advised Dayta. "Wouldn't want to lose you." Dayta said nothing.

Thor then got close to Terra and asked her quietly, "So what did you do and say to her?"

Marsha wanted to know as well, so she got right up next to Thor and listened to Terra. "Hey, Marsha," Thor growled. "Haven't you ever heard of personal space? Back off a bit, you don't need to be right in my face to hear her, do you? Or are you deaf or something as well?"

Marsha then backed off a little to give Thor some space as she listened in to Terra.

"I just did what I do with my sister when I see her in distress. Told her what I thought she needed to know. That sort of thing." Terra told them. "Of course, Nova recovers a lot quicker than her. So... I guess it kind of worked out?"

"Thin Fare thid fou thurn fou fomfort thor dister?" Marsha asked.

"From Nova." Terra answered. "And books."


Tormented by the agony that was upon him, Trail wavered side to side as he managed to walk forwards in a drunken state.

His vision was swimming in and out of focus as he felt light headed. But at the same time, a painful pulse was coursing through his head so strongly that it felt crushing. It resulted in him falling to his hands and knees several times. Each time he fell, he found it harder to get back up.

On his journey to gain distance from Anna, he found himself vomiting several times. His flattened nose, and everything else on his face that was lower than that, was coated in crimson blood. rolling down his mouth were pieces of vomit. The front of his shirt was specked with blood and heavily covered in the vomit that he had spewed out.

And his fingers, while not broken just yet, were hot with agony as they hurt just to move. And even when they didn't move, they still hurt. It was like they were being pressed between a vice, and every tiny movement, send fire through them.

And if that weren't enough, his left eye felt as if it had been enlarged, and threatened to pop out of his eye socket. While that same side of his face felt as if it were melting off. Not just because it felt like it from within, but because when he had touched it, he felt the skin starting to sag as if it were some rotten fruit that had been left out in the sun for days.

Trail thought that with time, his pain would lessen before it went away entirely. But instead, he was finding that it was getting worse and worse. Everything burned as his vision became more and more black. His ears rang so badly that he feared he was going deaf.

He thought of back home in District Eleven, where things like that had happened to him when he was out in the sun too much and he feared he was going to get heat stroke. But he knew that this wasn't the same, for there seemed to be no sun in this arena. Nor did it seem too hot or too cold until his after his fight with Anna.

Anna... He hadn't wanted to kill her, as he did like her as a person. But... What were you supposed to do when you found yourself in the arena? And saw someone that was between yourself and freedom? And when you in a fight to the death with them?

Trail had also never been in a real fight before, and he figured that was why Anna had managed to hurt him as much as she did. Even so, he had managed to stab her multiple times with a screwdriver.

He hadn't heard a cannon fire yet, but that could have been because of the ringing in his ears.

She's either dead and I didn't hear the cannon. Trail thought as he continued his staggering walk. Or she's going to die soon.

The crushing force within the side of his head eventually became too much, and he found himself, once again, on the ground. But this time, he was unable to get up. No matter how hard he tried, he couldn't muster up the strength to get back up.

And I guess... I'm dying as well. Trail thought as he feared what was to come next.

He had seen a lot of deaths happen in District Eleven, and even though he was used to seeing all of the dead, he still couldn't shake off the fear of it. The fear of someone dying. The fear of himself dying. What happens after death? Trail asked himself as he laid on the arena ground, covered in blood and his own vomit.

Trail tried to think of more comforting things, hoping that his mind would wander off, like it usually did. But instead, all he could focus on was how much his head was hurting. How it felt as if he brain was being crushed and drowned, while his skull had caved in and was causing the fluid within his head was filling his skull up until it burst like a stomped on tomato.

It hurts. It hurts so bad. He thought as he laid on the ground, helpless to do anything. Helpless to prevent it. That like in District Eleven, he was just another death that would soon be overlooked and forgotten about but all but a few.


He thought he had found her when he had spotted a head a blond hair.

He had been exited when he saw that head of blond hair, for he thought that it was her. Because after only God knows how long he had been running around, trying to find her, only to find nothing except mutts and someone that didn't know where their own blond haired girl was, he had grown frustrated at the prospect of not being able to find her.

But then he had ran into a building that he thought she might be stationed at, only to find that it was being occupied by someone else. And when they wouldn't tell him where to find her, he had fought the information out of him. But Spark hadn't given the information up that easily. Sure Splendor had fought him, and then tried to read his mind, and maybe crush his skull to try and find out whether he possessed super strength or not, mostly to intimidate the stick into giving him the information. But in the end, Spark did tell him where he might be able to find Radiance.

That that was all he wanted right now. To find Radiance and keep her safe from the dangers of the arena. Because as much as she was a citizen of District One, she wasn't much of a fighter. Sure she had handled herself back at The Sinning Temptation back in The Capitol, but Splendor didn't think that she'd be able to protect herself in the arena well enough. After all, she seemed apathetic to what would happen to her in the arena. Or just in general as it was.

He didn't want to think about what would happen if he had found her too late, but even so, his mind continued to play out situation on which he would find her already dead.

He hated those thoughts and wished they'd be purged from his mind.

So when he saw her laying on the ground, shirtless, and with bloody, improvised bandages around her, he got worried. He got very worried.

He ran towards her, hoping that he wasn't too late before he slide down beside her without even slowing down, nearly causing his feet to crash into her if he had been a few inches off. All that time, however, his mind was racing as dozens of thoughts hit him all at once.

"Radiance!" Splendor cried out as he knelled beside the blond haired, shirtless girl. "Radiance! You still alive! Hey! Come on! Speak to me!" He shouted rapidly as he shaked her about. The girl steered before she replied weakly.

"I'm sorry, dad." She sounded sorrowful, but Splendor really didn't care, because her voice wasn't of the girl that he wanted.

"What the?" Splendor said, confused as he rolled her over, only to confirm that the girl wasn't Radiance of District One. Instead, he found himself looking at Paige of District Eight. His confusion turned into further frustration as he thought of what Spark had told him. Spark had told him that he had seen a girl when he had came from this direction. But the girl he had seen wasn't Radiance. "Damn it!" Splendor shouted as he quickly got to his feet. "The bastard lied to me! I'm going to kill him for wasting my time!"

Splendor was going to head back when he remembered exactly what Spark had told him. That he had seen a girl in a building that was further away. "Okay. I won't kill him yet." Splendor told himself as he turned back and started to run some more, wanting to get to that building to quell his disappointment. "Just hang on, Radiance. I'm coming."


They were learning how to handle scarce resources.

In many of the games, the career pack was always the ones with the most supplies and the most weapons. And the majority of the time, it stayed that way. But sometimes, something unexpected would happen that left the careers with little supplies.

Sometimes it was because sticks had sabotaged the cornucopia supplies. Burning and poisoning were some of the things that came to mind as the academy instructors talked about how the little rats snuck their way into the cornucopia, stole supplies from under their noses, and scurried off with food and weapons and supplies, but not before they did something to disrupt the so called nature order of the arena.

Other times, the cornucopia supplies were destroyed by the arena environment. Flooding and tornadoes came to her mind. She had seen those things happen in previous games, and it scattered the supplies to all sorts of areas in the arena.

But sometimes, there just wasn't that many supplies at the cornucopia to begin with. Those were always the worst years. With the forth quarter quell being the worst as there had been no supplies and no cornucopia. Not that it mattered since the M-Jays, those that had survived the bloodbath, had the third quarter quell and the mocking jays still fresh in their minds, refused to fight each other in rebellion against the aviators and their game.

If Marsha remembered correctly, the instructors said that this starvation and learning how to survive with minimum food practice had occurred sometime after the third quarter quell. After the careers were humiliated by the M-Jay Katniss the year before the quell.

Fifteen year old Marsha honestly wondered why the practice had taken so long to imply, since she figured that there were other situations before that, but she guessed that her district, along with One and Two, didn't want to further humiliate themselves after failing to exterminate the M-Jays before things potentially got out of control.

She supposed it didn't matter the reasons why they had started so late, as the important thing was that they were doing it now.

In front of her, were her academy classmates, all formed in a line that lead towards a line of academy instructors. All of the adults were holding burlap sacks full of rice for everyone to take. The only catch was, the students were only allowed to take as much rice as was allowed to fit in a single hand. That was going to be their food supply for the next three days.

She watched as everyone scoped up the biggest handful they could hold, before they joined the rest of the group.

The rice supply was dropping, but there was still more than enough for everyone. Her classmates seemed to realize that as they looked at her. She knew why they had all shoved her to the back of the line. She had heard what they had said when they thought she couldn't hear. They had wanted the sacks to be devoid of rice by the time she arrived.

Unfortunately for them, that's not going to happen. Marsha thought as she got closer and closer to the line of academy instructors.

She watched as the girl in front of her grabbed a handful of rice, the grains slipping from the grip like dry sand, as she walked towards her peers. Marsha saw the trail of rice that lead to her peers, and how they were complaining about how they were losing rice with each passing second.

Some were smarter, and placed the rice in their pockets. Soon after, everyone started to follow suit.

"Tribute Trent!" One of the instructors barked at her. "Hurry your fat ass up and get your rice! Now! Everyone's waiting!"

She heard some of her classmates snicker at her, but she paid them no mind. If anything, Marsha looked at them with pity, for she knew that what she was going do was going to blow them all away.

Marsha looked at the instructor, walked up to him, then looked at the sack of rice he was holding out for her.

"Thad fuch thas I than ferry thin fun than?" Marsha asked, hoping she heard the instructions clearly.

"Yes, dumbass." The instructor told her in less than displeasing tone. "As much rice as you can carry in one hand."

Marsha was glad that she had heard them correctly, for she then grabbed the sack out of his hand and went to join her classmates.

"Tribute Trent!" The instructor shouted to her before he grabbed her by the hair, stopping her in her tracks before he forced her to look at him. Marsha avoided eye contract with him as he shouted at her. "What the fuck are you doing? I thought I told you that you can only carry as much as you can in one fucking hand!"

Marsha then showed him the bag, which she was carrying in one hand.

"Guy ham." Marsha told him, not seeing the problem.

Marsha then heard him breathing in and out heavily, much like people did before they were going to yell or hit her. She expected him to do both. But after a few tense seconds, he only yelled to her.

"Get the fuck out of my sight!"

So she did. She walked past her classmates, who she could see were glaring at her. And her rice.

Marsha wanted to ask how they felt now. She wanted to ask if they still thought that she was retarded. Them, with their handfuls of rice in their pockets, while she held a sack. They can't get mad at me for following instructions. Marsha thought smugly.


Marsha had thought that she was finally going to get some respect from people when she had done that. But she had been wrong.

Sighing as she walked with her allies and rubbing the back of her neck, which she had repeatedly complained was feeling weird. Thor said that it was just the result of getting tasered there, and that it would eventually go away. But Marsha felt as if it was something more than that. She voiced that she thought that a part of her spine had been cracked or something, because it was feeling really weird.

Thor just told her to ignore it. And Marsha could do that for a few minutes, before she felt herself rubbing the back of her neck again. And again, it was there. Something was trying to break free from the skin prison of her neck, and she worried that it was a part of her spine.

How strong is that taser? Marsha wondered.

Marsha turned her gaze towards Dayta, who still seemed to be walking around in a trance like state, and wondered if she was ever going to get out of that. If she's allowed to be like that, then why can't I?

Marsha would have liked to be like her. To be able to just escape the world like that when something bad happened. To be able to show her frustration when things became too much for her.

They continued to walk in silence, and everyone was alone with their thoughts.

That is, until a group of red shirted people came into sight. The biggest group that Marsha had seen so far as there were seven of them.

"Great." Thor grumbled as he withdrew his sword and got in front of Dayta, ready to fight the approaching mutts. Terra followed closely behind Thor, and Marsha did the same, knowing that a fight was going to ensure.

Still, she felt confident that despite the number of mutts that were in front of them, that they could take them down without much hassle. After all, she had fought a group of five by herself and had came out victorious.

"We don't want to fight!" One of the mutts said as they got within a couple dozen feet of her and her allies.

"Then move!" Thor responded harshly, almost like a command.

"Afraid we can't do that!" The mutt replied with a shake of his head. "For there's something we need to do!"

"Die?" Thor asked as he pointed his sword towards them.

"We need Marsha!" The mutt told him.

That confused Marsha, because she didn't know why they'd want her. Why would they need her? Out of all the people here? Were they here to kill her and only her? Because she was a supposed disgrace and nobody liked her? Not even for the entertainment value that The Hunger Games could offer?

Or maybe it was for revenge? Revenge for what she had done to the previous red shirted mutts? That was more likely, for she did remember that she hadn't gotten them all. One had escaped death, when the rest of his allies died. So maybe he managed to find another group, told them what had occurred, and asked them to help him with killing them?

"What for?" Thor asked as he continued to point his sword at them.

"That's not for you to know!" The mutt told him. "Just know that we mean no harm to all of you!"

"That's one big lie if I've ever heard one." Terra responded in her flat voice.

"It's not a lie!" The mutt said as he raised his arms to his sides. "All we want is Marsha, and we'll let you go!"

"You know that Marsha is part of our pack? Right?" Thor stated. "So if you think we're just going to hand her over to a bunch of fuck wits like you, then you're even bigger fuck wits than I thought!"

"We can either do this the easy way!" The mutt said as he looked at her and the rest of the career pack, before he looked at the sky. "Or the hard way! It really doesn't matter to the rest of us!"

"Hey, Marsha," Thor said as he looked at her. "You want to go with those assholes or not?"

Marsha thought of how they more than likely wanted to kill her, so her choice was instantaneous.

"Bo." Marsha answered.

"There's your answer!" Thor responded as he turned back towards the group of mutts. "So if you want her, then you'll have to get past us!"

Marsha then saw Terra pull out the taser before she flicked it on for a couple of seconds, hearing the crackling of electricity flow between the copper prongs before it ceased to exist once again.

"So be it!" The mutt said before Marsha saw him nod his head.

A second later, she saw Thor and Terra collapse onto the ground as they held their hands to their ears. They were both screaming in agony, like there was something loud that only they could hear. Marsha could also hear Dayta behind her, screaming as well. To her, it almost looked like they were suffering from over stimulation.

What the hell? Marsha thought as she looked around, trying to figure out what was going on. Why are they acting like that? I didn't hear anything. I didn't see anything. What's going on?

As Marsha tried to find the source of her allies suffering, she heard the sound of footsteps rapidly approach her.

Marsha turned towards the sound, and saw the mutts rushing at her. All seven of them.

Reacting quickly, Marsha punched the closest one, before the other six dog piled on her and took her to the ground. Even so she kept on fighting, knowing that if she stopped she was going to die. "Roll her over! Hold her down!" The mutt who she figured was in charge of their group, commanded as they struggled to place Marsha on her stomach.

Marsha swung her arms, kicked her legs, bucked them off and headbutted at them. But there were just too many of them on her, and eventually, they were able to overpower her and keep her pinned as they flipped her onto her stomach.

Marsha saw one of the mutts pull out a syringe before an unseen mutt grabbed the back of her head and shoved it into the pavement.

"Stop struggling!" Another one of the mutts ordered her as she continued to resist. She felt one of them grab the back of her dress, the one that was touching her neck.

With all the weight of these bodies on her. With all of them holding her down and shoving her head down and trying to remove her dress, it felt a lot like...


Fifteen year old Marsha had her head shoved into the course, hot sand as a group of her classmates laughed at her. Taunted her. Threatened her. And called her all sorts of names as they pinned her down on the beach.

"You think you're so smart you retard?" One of them asked as he scraped her face against the hot sand, making it feel as he was trying to strip her face of it's flesh. "You think you're better than the rest of us? Tossing out that shit with the rice?" He then made a crude imitation of her garbled up voice, which mostly contained him sticking out his tongue and speaking stupidly. "I followed the instructions. I only have one handful of rice." He then returned to his normal voice. "Fucking bitch!"

Marsha tried to get him off of her, but four of his friends were pinning down a limb each. They pressed their entire body weight on her arms and legs, like they were actively trying to break her bones under the pressure of their weight as they forced their knees into her. It was made all the more worse due to the fact that they had first ambushed her, beat her down, grinded their heels on her joints, then pinned her down. She wondered if she had been sharked and hadn't even noticed thanks to her fatigue.

She had fought them, of course, but because of their sheer numbers, they were able to overpower her. Even if she had managed to get in a few swings before hand. Injuring them. Making them even more pissed off than they had already been.

"Bet you didn't foresee us stealing your rice, did you? Huh Marshtard?" A boy who was pressing his knees into her right wrist and elbow, said to her. "You thought you were slick, but you failed instead. I bet you forgot about stealing the enemy supplies. Remember what we were told in class? If you can't find what you need, either gain it from sponsors, gather it from the arena, or steal it from the adversary. And you were a prime target with all that food in your possession."

Marsha did remember. She had been on her guard day and night. But she hadn't expected her entire class to rush her all at once, tie her with wire, and beat her while she was down. It was like they combined all their hatred towards her, and attacked as one.

The instructors praised them for the teamwork. Marsha was told to unfuck herself.

When she did get out of the wire that she had been tied up with, she tried to get back some of her rice. But her classmates acted like a giant career pack. And they looked at her like she was a stick. Marsha thought of how unfair it was.

She was left to fend for herself.

She had no food, minimal water that she got when the instructors poured water over her head, simulating rain. Enough to live on, but not enough to justify her to go on the gruelling training sessions that were required of her.

She saw that they were giving more water to the other kids, and weren't pouring it down as fast. Because while they were getting a steady rainfall, Marsha got a heavy downpour. And the few supplies that notional sponsors gave her, because they felt sorry for her, quickly got stolen from her.

The instructors berated her on getting her items stolen. They berated her for not being able to defend herself. They berated her for not being able to steal things back. Berated her for not being able to keep up with her classmates. For being stupid. Weak. Only being skilful at knot tying. For being the trainee that everyone strived not to be like.

And because she was weak, and slow, and behind everyone else from her lack of food and water, she was hit by the instructors. Yelled at them. And she could do nothing but endure it, for that was what you were supposed to do. Talk back and you get smacked. Try to defend yourself at the wrong time, and you got punched. Disrespect them in any sort of way, and you got hit. Do anything or nothing, and there was a chance that you'd get yelled at.

Marsha hated that they yelled at her all the time as it hurt her. They were so loud and it built on her stress. And then there were times where two or three might be yelling at her all at once. In all different directions. And she heard it all. She heard the instructors shouting at her for how worthless she was and how she should just quit the academy. Heard her classmates laughing and talking about her. Heard the overhead lights buzzing and the sound of feet hitting the floor. She heard it all. And that, a lot of times, caused her to have a meltdown. Which was punished with more yelling and more hitting.

That lesson had been the worst one yet.

But, even though it was over, the three days of hell just seemed to keep on going.

Marsha felt her face scraping against the hot sand, the grains getting in her eyes and mouth and nose, unable to get them out since opening her mouth caused sand to get in it. Breathing caused it to go up her nose. And she couldn't rub the sand out of her eyes because her arms were pinned to her sides.

All she could do was endure it, and hope that it stopped soon. After all, this was nothing new. Kids did this to her all the time, and her parents told her that outside of the academy, she wasn't allowed to hurt other kids otherwise there was going to be hell to pay. She disobeyed them when she thought it was serious enough, but her parents always seemed to think that it was her fault. Even when they had started it. So when kids threw rocks at her or tripped her in the middle of the street, or just plain old sucker punched her, they knew that they'd more than likely get away with it, because nobody was going to defend Marsha Trent. Not even herself, most of the time.

And then there was her brother, Cruise, who often did things that could very damn well kill her.

She was told not the hurt her brother. So she had to endure whatever he did to her. Unless she managed to escape him. Which she did when his sadistic tendency towards her went too far.

"You know, I've still got some pent up frustration and energy from what you pulled, Marsha." The boy who was rubbing her head in the sand, told her. "And I'm just saying, it's a damn shame that a body like yours was wasted on someone like you."

Marsha then felt him release his grip on her head, followed by him undoing his belt. Marsha tried even harder to fight back, but there were four other boys on her. Marsha tried to turn her head to at least spit out the sand in her mouth, but a boot was pressed against the back of her head and shoved back into the sand. "Keep her fucking face down." The boy commanded. "I don't want her looking at me as she does the one good thing in her worthless life for me."


Marsha remembered how vile they had felt when they had gone inside of her. How she felt every inch of them go into her and how they had fucked her raw and left her bleeding from her vagina and ass. It had been so painful that she couldn't even walk home straight. And she had cried more than she ever had in her entire life.

She remembered how she told herself that she never wanted it to happen again. And heard the voice of a younger Marsha saying. Stronger! I need to become stronger!

Was all that self training for naught?

She heard the sound of a finger flicking the barrel of the syringe, and Marsha told herself that nothing like that was going to happen to her. I will not! Let everything I have put myself through! BE FOR NOTHING!

Marsha then twisted her head to the side, and saw how closely one of the mutts was to her.

"I said hold her head still!" The syringe holding mutt repeated as Marsha opened her mouth, grabbed the front of the mutt's shirt that was on her left arm, pulled him towards her, then sank her teeth into his neck.

The mutt gave out a sick, gurgling noise as Marsha felt his hot blood fill in her mouth before she tore his throat out, resulting in torrent of blood spraying out from his neck cavity and painting her face before she pushed him away.

Marsha felt the weight of the mutts on her lighten up. She rationalized that it was from seeing her just tear the throat out of one of their allies. Whatever it was, Marsha took advantage of it and rolled with all her might.

She managed to roll onto the mutts that had been on her arms and back. The mutts that had been on her legs were on straddled on her legs, and because of that, Marsha slammed her elbows onto the faces of the mutts that were still hanging onto her arms, making them release her almost instantly before she did a sit up, and shoved the mutts that were riding on her legs. They fell off of her, and Marsha picked herself up despite the fact that a mutt was clinging onto her back and attempting to restrain her with a badly executed choke hold.

Marsha took care of him by groping around his face until she was able to find where his eyes were, and shove her thumbs into his eye sockets. She felt his eyes resise her gorging for a second before her flesh punctured it's watery contents, causing them to burst and make a hot, slime like material slide over her thumbs as the mutt howled.

He let go of Marsha's back and her thumbs slide out of the sleek part of his skull.

Amongst the thud of the body, she heard footsteps rushing towards her. Marsha turned and saw the mutt with the syringe try and savagely jab it into her neck. Marsha ended up grabbing his wrist with her left hand, grabbing his shoulder with the right, then shoving his entire arm down onto her upcoming knee. It ended with her shattering his right arm at the elbow with a wet, sickening crack that was clearly audible and seemed to ring in the air for a split second before the mutt screamed and dropped the syringe from his now useless arm.

His arm was bent on an angle that wasn't naturally possible. Brown, blood coated bone had broken out from his flesh and were sticking out, almost like barnacles on a rock.

She tossed him to the side when she saw that the four other mutts were coming towards her.

Working fast, Marsha shoulder rolled towards Thor's sword, and grabbed it part way through her roll and expertly got to her feet in fluid motion. And when she started to swing the sword at them, they halted immediately and kept their distance.

Marsha wasn't that good with a sword, and just swung it around wildly in quick, but wide angles as he gave out war cries. But still, it was enough to keep them at bay.

"Marsha," one of the mutts said to her as his voice wavered. "Marsha, calm down."

Then at point blank range, Marsha held the grip of the sword like a spear, a weapon she was much more familiar with, and threw it with devastating effect. Her throw was so powerful that it passed through the mutt's chest nearly to the handle guard.

The mutt could only give out a sharp gasp before he started to choke on what seemed to be only air before blood started to pour from his mouth with a shocked look on his face.

Before that mutt could even fall to his knees, Marsha charged towards the three other mutts, clothes-lining one, sending them off their feet as the bend in her right arm hit them square in the neck before travelling upwards under his chin. Spinning around, Marsha spun a whole circle before she grabbed the second one by the throat and threw him to the ground, right on top of the mutt she had clothes-lined.

The third one, just having gotten out of his state of shock, tried to hit Marsha with a swift, but wide arched hook. Marsha counted by taking a step forwards, making the mutt's swing over reach and made his bicep hit her in the side of the head. It didn't hurt her all that much, and it allowed her to bend down, and grab the mutt by the front of his pants with her right hand, the front of his shirt with her left, and lift him into the air, over her head, and slam him head first into the pavement.

A sick, wet crack sounded out as his neck broke, followed by the rest of his body finishing their journey to the ground.

Marsha turned back to the two mutts that she had just put to the ground, and saw them getting up in a daze.

To the closest one, Marsha punched her across the face as hard as she could, resulting in several cubic shapes to fly from his mouth as there was a wet crack. The female mutt tried to scream, but it was all garbled up, like she was almost unable to speak. The reason being because her lower jaw was barely attached to her mouth and was just flapping about.

As the female mutt grabbed at her flapping jaw in misery, Marsha kicked her away as she grabbed the other mutt by their shirt, and began to repeatedly headbutt them in the nose and mouth. Each time her forehead meet their nose, a wet crack, which kept on sounding worse and worse, sounded out as the nose became more and more flat, until, it looked to be completely buried into their face. By now, Marsha's face had been splashed with his blood.

Giving one last headbutt, Marsha reeled back her right arm then began to repeatedly bash her fist into the mutt's throat. Because of the punches to the throat, Marsha had cut off that airway. And because of the headbutts to the nose, Marsha had cut off the backup airway. She knew that it would result the body and brain to go into shock as it was now, unable to find a way to draw air. Even so, his mouth and nose still managed to somehow produce blood.

She threw him away to die his relatively slow, but painful, death, before she turned back to the mutt she had broken the jaw of. The girl mutt was still trying to scream as she held onto her jaw, uselessly trying to fix it. She had somehow managed to remain on her feet.

That only made it easier for Marsha as she walked up to the mutt, grabbed at the mutt's mangled lower jaw with her right hand, and the inner part of her upper jaw with her left, before she pulled in opposite directions.

The female mutt tried to fight back, but the best she could do was annoy Marsha with her touching her hands, and her falling to her knees, granting her another few meaningless seconds before her jaw came off with a wet, sickening snap. Blood shot out of the mutt's mouth where her lower jaw was supposed to be, before it started to pour out like a river.

The mutt was going to collapse onto the ground due to the absolute torment she was experiencing, but Marsha grabbed her by the shirt before she could hit the ground and shoved the jawbone into the mutt's throat like it were a knife. Then Marsha released the mutt, allowing her to fall as blood pumped out of her neck.

That was six mutts down, and one crippled.

Marsha turned to the mutt with the broken arm. The one that had tried to stab her with a syringe and inject who knows what into her. He had been screaming the entire time since she had broken his arm. And he kept on screaming the same thing.

"Gemini! Gemini please! She's killing us!" But as she got closer to him, and he saw that, his voice got more desperate as the tears flowed more freely. "Mom! Mom, don't let her do this!"


Marsha ran home with a face that was streaked with sand, bloody lacerations, and tears.

She was bleeding out of her vagina and ass, which stained her pants a dark red colour. But most of all, she felt horrendous. Violated. Helpless. Disgraced. And wanting help.

She didn't very much care for the looks that had been cast her way, nor did she care about what they might or might not be talking about as they looked at her. She just wanted to get home and get some help.

When she finally did get home, she saw her mother when she entered the house and ran up to her, nearly out of breath.

"Pom!" Marsha cried out. "Pom! Thive fin graped!"

"What?" Her mother asked, turning towards her as she finished up her household duties.

"Thive fin graped!" Marsha told her as she pointed to her pants and explained what happened, hoping that her mother would do something about it. Tell her what to do and maybe do something to help her.

But when she finished telling her her tale of woe, all her mother did was sigh to her with a shake of her head.

"If you allowed it to happen, then you deserved it." Her mother told her as she turned away. "After all, only the weak get taken advantage of like that."

"Fut pom!" Marsha cried out as she grabbed onto her mother's shirt to prevent her from leaving her. Only for her mother to back hand her across the face, making her release her mother's shirt.

"No buts, Marsha!" Her mother screamed to her. "You weren't strong enough to fight them off! You weren't fast enough, or had enough stamina, to out run them! You allowed yourself to get ambushed! If you really wanted it to stop, then you would have done more! But you didn't! You allowed it to happen, and it's your own fault!"

Marsha couldn't believe what she was hearing. She didn't want it to happen to her. There had been five of them against her for fuck's sake! Not only that, but she hadn't had any food, and hardly any water, for three whole days of academy training! How was she supposed to fight them off with all that against her?

"Pom!" Marsha cried out as she reached out for her mother again, but Creek Trent pulled out a large knife from the knife holding block and swung it at her. Frightened by the display, Marsha backed away to avoid getting slashed.

"You see?" Her mom asked her as she swung the knife a second time, making Marsha back away another step. "You don't want to get hurt! So you backed away! You have the ability to stop yourself from getting hurt, so you should have used it!" Creek then placed the knife back into it's wooden holder before she turned away from her once again. "Don't come crying to us because of something that you were too weak to prevent."


Marsha had always wanted to become strong so that she wouldn't be hurt as badly. She wanted to be strong enough to endure the beatings that she received from the district. And if one day, she was finally allowed to fight back and prove herself, she wanted to be able to do just that.

So she trained on her own time to build up strength and speed and endurance.

She ran along the beach and around the district on her own, sometimes with weights on her limbs. Sometimes while holding something heavy, like a bag full of sand or a heavy rock or a log. Many times she filled multiple bags with sand, tied rope around them, then hang them on a metal bar and held that bar over her shoulders as she ran or did other exercises.

She lifted heavy objects, flipped them over, or dragged them. She submerged herself underwater and held her breath for as long as she could as she dived underneath the water's surface to move rocks from one location to the next.

She fell forwards and backwards to become used to the pain. She ran into poles and rocks. She punched the sand until her knuckles bleed, then continued to punch the condensed material. She punched herself and didn't hold back very much.

She learned how to one handed push ups. She'd do burpees, jump and grab the edge of something high, like the top of a door or the edge of a large rock, and do a pull up. If she was feeling extra harsh on herself, she'd do it one handed, then fall back to the ground to do another burpee, and repeat until she needed to rest.

When she sweated, she'd throw sand on herself then continued to do her solitary activates.

She'd use her brother's weight set when nobody was looking. She fondly remembered a time when she had used his weight set, but had forgotten to readjust the weights, causing Cruise to wonder what the hell had happened when he tried to show off in front of a girl he wanted to impress.

Marsha remembered the weight. Three hundred and fifty pounds he was trying to lift, and he could barely do it and had to have the girl help him from having the bar crush his own throat.

Marsha wanted to laugh, but Cruise had slammed her face against the heavy weights before she could. He beat her in front of the girl, who just watched with no remorse. No pity. Marsha didn't tell either of them that the reason it was like that was because she was the one that was lifting it, because they wouldn't believe her. So instead, they continued to believe that it was because she wanted to humiliate her brother by trying to make him appear weaker than he really was.

Marsha did a lot of insane exercises to make herself stronger. She had a mantra going for her. Stronger! I need to become stronger!

She had no help or support from anyone but her imaginary friends, who would tell her to keep on going so that one day, she could prove that her district had been wrong about her. But that day seemed to never come. Nobody but her and her invisible friends wanted to see her advance in the world. All the district saw was a girl that was born with a brain deficiency.

No matter how strong she got, she could never show it, because her parents always told her not to humiliate her brother. Not to humiliate them. Because, in their own words, 'if people were to see that you're better than your brother, what will they start thinking?'

So she did as she was told. She pretended to be physically weaker than her brother. Slower than her brother. And sometimes, much to her humiliation, dumber than him.

She allowed him to knock her around, because she didn't want her parents to be any more disappointed in her than they already were.

It was the same with the rest of the district. They didn't want to be seen as less worthful than some autistic girl, so her parents told her to not humiliate them as well. After all, if she was seen as better than those that were functionally better than her, what would people start to think? What would the aviators start to think? It would be a disaster.

Still, she continued to train at the academy, showing off her skills only when she was alone. Working on her rigorous exercises when she was alone. Training with all her might when she was alone.

And even when they didn't think she was, Marsha tried to learn from the academy. But it was tough since she couldn't apply most of the things since she wasn't expected to be called on, or participate with a partner unless it was to humiliate her in some way.

She never got to show off how strong she had become until she had arm wrestled everyone in The Sinning Temptation, beating Thor and everyone else that stood in her way. She remembered how happy she had been at that moment.

When she had fought those guys that had raped Thor and might have done the same to Terra if she hadn't shown up with Dayta. She had gotten to show that she could take a punch from someone wearing brass knuckles, even if they were an aviator pussy.

And the arena, where she had wiped the floor with Ivy during their first encounter. When she had beaten that group of mutts before reuniting with her allies. She didn't have to worry about the repercussions that came afterwords.

And now...

Marsha looked at the mutt that was begging his mother for help. She didn't think that his mother was going to help him. Whoever it was. Or if he even had a mother. After all, he was a mutt, not a human.

But still, she thought of her own mother. Her own family, they didn't, wouldn't, help her, if she needed it. She had to look out for herself, and regretted that she never got to show her true self to the district.

Show a girl that could fight, even if lacked the more fancy moves that others had since she never could get a partner for anything other than being a punching bag.

A girl that could lift over four hundred pounds, do one handed pull ups, and other amazing feats of strength that only her and her imaginary friends could witness.

A girl that might, just might, be worthy of some respect and be able to hold onto some semblance of dignity.

Well she was showing them now. She was showing the world what she was really made of!

Marsha got right up to the mutt with the broken arm before grabbing him by his shirt with one hand, forcing him to his knees as she picked up the syringe that he had dropped.

"Fhats thin fear?" Marsha demanded to know as she held the syringe to the mutt's face. "Fhats thin fear? Fur thu thighing fu thill fe?"

The mutt looked at her with tears running down his face as Marsha swung her syringe wielding arm back, wanting to find out what he had intended to do to her.

"Marsha!" The mutt cried out as he held an arm out. "No! Please don't!"

Marsha ignored his pleas as she shoved the needle into the side of his neck and pressed the plunger down, injecting whatever was inside the syringe into him.

With that done, Marsha pulled the needle out of his neck and tossed it aside.

"Tuts fin thit?" Marsha asked as she shaked him violently with the hand that was holding onto his shirt. "Thuts thin thit!"

"Mom!" The mutt cried out like he was experiencing even more pain. "Mom! No! Please! I tried! I tried!"

Then he started to howl as his left hand groped at his face. And Marsha saw with horror, why.

She from the brief look she got at his eyes, she saw that the whites of them were becoming a nauseating red, and looking bloody as crimson leaked out of them like macabre tears. Twin red snakes were slithering out of his nose. The veins in his neck were bulging from his neck like they had grown exponentially and were going to burst at any moment. But the veins in his neck weren't the only things that had became larger.

The veins in his forehead had also grown in size, as well as his lips, which were starting to become bloated. With all of that happening, it looked as if his face had both started to swell, and tighten against his skull.

Marsha let go of him out of shock and took a step back, wondering just what in the hell she had injected him with.

The instant that she released him, he grabbed at where she had plunged the needle, and desperately dug his fingernails into it, drawing blood from the side of his neck.

Seconds later, it sounded like he was chocking on something. Seconds later, she heard disgusting gurgling coming from his mouth before blood, thick and frothy, started to pour from it as it went down his chin.

Then he started to vomit up the blood at a disturbing frequency as it cascaded to the ground like a diabolical waterfall. And every time that he vomited out the blood, the veins in his neck and head seemed to get bigger. His face got more and more pale as said face slowly swelled up and just as slowly started to morph. His eyes, which Marsha could see nothing but a nauseating blood red in them, looked like they were going to pop out of his skull at any moment as they bulged.

The only time the mutt got to breathe was after vomiting up thick and chunky blood. And even then he could only inhale once before vomiting more of the sick substance up.

It seemed to go on forever, but lasted only about ten horrific seconds before the mutt cased to vomit, or even breathe for that matter. Even so, he had puked out a seemingly ungodly amount of blood before he looked up at Marsha with a nightmarish face that only looked vaguely human, before he collapsed face first into his own blood.

Marsha now looked at the deceased mutt and thought; He was going to do that to me...

Even so, what she had witnessed as horrific, and she couldn't help but stumble back a couple of steps before she landed on her butt in disbelief. She didn't regret what she had done to him, or his allies, but what he had said kept on repeating in her mind.

Mom! No! Please!

Marsha thought of how it was just like her mom. Her dad. They didn't care what happened to her, just as long as she didn't make them, or her brother, or anyone else in the district, look bad.

That mutt was the same.

Stronger... Marsha thought as she looked at the mutt. He... Should have been... As she thought that, she could feel herself starting to cry as her chest started to tighten up so much that she felt as if she was going to vomit. For she, somehow, saw herself there. Stronger... Then he... Wouldn't have... Died.

But she also thought. But no matter how strong I got... It changed nothing for me... I was still an outcast in District Four. A nobody. Worthless.

"Holy fuck..." She heard Thor say over her crying. "Marsha... Did you do this?"

Marsha said nothing, just continued to cry to herself as she brought her knees to her face and hugged her knees. She was doing her best to hold it all in. But even so, tears continued to flow down her cheeks and she gave out the occasional weak sob that she tried to keep as quiet as possible. Careers don't cry. Careers don't cry. Careers don't cry.

She heard footsteps get closer to her before Thor's voice came to her again. "First aid kit's here. Where are you hurt?" Marsha responded by placing her hands over her chest, where her heart was. "There doesn't seem to be any wounds on your chest." Thor told her.

"That's because it's her heart's that hurting." Dayta's voice said unexpectedly.

"Her heart?" Thor asked. "I don't think she exerted herself that-"

"It's not like that you... Dumbass!" She then heard another set of footsteps approach her. "Move out of my way! Move move move move!"

"Alright, fine." Thor said before one set of footsteps got up to her and the other left.

"Marsha." Dayta said in a calm voice. One that Marsha wasn't used to when she was like this. Or... Any other time she was going to be like this. For she didn't cry. Not in front of people. Not since it had been beaten out of her both mentally and physically. "Marsha. What's wrong."

"Buthing." Marsha lied, trying to keep her voice straight. I'll be fine soon. I'll stop crying and we'll be on our way to the base Terra found. I will. Please, me. Me. Stop crying.

"I think we both know that's a lie." Dayta said, seeing right through her. "Want to tell me what's wrong?"

"No." Marsha answered.

"Well... I don't know if I can comfort you like my sisters and I comfort each other, but, if you'll allow me, I can try." As she said that, Marsha didn't know if that was a trick or not. But, Dayta wasn't her family, nor was she someone from District Four, so she was willing to give it a chance. After all, if she did what she was going to do, then she wanted it. Marsha wanted something that nobody had ever given her before. She nodded her head.

She then felt something wrap around her head and something warm and soft press against the other side of her head. "You know that it's going to be okay, right? You're not cut or anything. Just overwhelmed, right?" Marsha nodded, remembering of everything she had to put up with back home, unable to show what she was capable of doing until just recently. How she had to put on a facade of weakness back home for the benefit of the ungrateful. "I don't know what it's like in a bronhole district, but it's okay to cry, Marsha. There's no shame in it right now. And... I'm sorry for what I said earlier. You're a human. Human. Human. Human. With human emotions and feelings. But like the rest of us, you're different. Heh. Heh. Heh. Heh." She chuckled. "I just, forgot about that in the moment."

"Thar fu fad that fee?" Marsha asked, wondering if she was going to turn into someone from District Four.

"No. No. No. No." Dayta told her. "I'm not mad at you."

"Thid I fo thod?" Marsha asked.

"Yeah... You did good." Dayta told her.

Upon hearing that, Marsha turned to Dayta, and hugged her back.

It was the first time someone had tried to make her feel better. It was the first time she had gotten a hug. It was the first time she had been comforted. And it felt good. Like she was worth something at last.

A/N: Hey guys, been a while hasn't it? Don't think I've been away from fanfiction for this long since 2016 when I was doing my specialized military trade training.

Anyway, I don't know if people are still going to read this fic as it's been so long. Hell, don't even know when this fic is going to be done. It's been three years and, if you've looked at my profile, you'll see that this fic is currently on arc four of seven. Granted though, this arc is probably the longest one, but still...

Another thing is that, because I've been away from this fic for a while, the writing might not be what it used to be. Not top notch as it were. But then again, there were always mistakes and whatnot.

Still... I hope that whoever is reading this at least got some satisfaction out of this chapter.

Don't know when the next one will come out.

Also, some may ask if some things, such as the numerous rapes that have occurred over this fic are necessary. I'd say that I could not put them in, but there are reasons I am putting them in.

And if anyone is reading this, I've got a question. Should I add subtitles to Marsha's broken speeches?