District 7


-Andreia Barreil, 18- Girlfriend of Riella-

Every morning I wake up hung over. Every morning I open my eyes and wish I'd died last night.

How could I have let her go into that Arena? Fuck whatever promises we made. I should have kept her from going into that Arena. I should have taken her place. Two damn words would have saved her! Two stupid, fucking words that I never said and now she's dead.

I don't need any fucking hospitality. People come to my house to tell me they're sorry but it's not their fault. It's mine. It's his. Riella would have been a better Victor and we all know it. It's complete bullshit! The Capitol should have been there to make sure the right person came out of that Games! They're going to regret letting her die.

Every morning I'm reminded that she isn't here and she's never coming back. Every morning I'm reminded that I'm alone. All of that time and work I put into her, all of those hours we stayed awake together, all of those times she couldn't see her own perfection and I showed her glimpses of it. All of those times we laughed… All those ways that she changed me and I changed her. It's completely wasted.

I haven't taken that stupid necklace off since she left. Maybe I don't fucking deserve to wear it. Maybe I never fucking deserved her at all. Maybe she could have found someone way better, someone that had her life together, someone that had a stable job with a good income, someone who was smart, pretty, talented, actually going places.

But she picked fucking me.

She stayed with me.

She loved me.

And dammit, that means something. That means everything. She could have had any girl she smiled at and she stayed in this shitty apartment with this shitty girlfriend that let her go off and die without even trying to die in her place.

I never told her how much I loved her. I was always too afraid. I always told her how beautiful she was, or how sexy she looked, or how funny she was, or that she was adorable, but when it came time for me to look her in the fucking eyes, the words died on my lips and I never got to spit them out. I never told her how I felt. I should have told her every day. I should have told her all the time. I should have let her know how fucking much I love before it was too fucking late!

And now what? Now I'm just going to be without her for the rest of my life. I never deserved her. I should have died in her place. She should be here, not me. I can't believe I was too stupid to see that until it was too late.

As soon as I get out of bed, I start drinking again.

Maybe this time it'll actually kill me.

I can only hope.


District 8


-Jonathan, 20- Boyfriend of Felicity-

She was the first to die. Our child was the second.

What could I have done to stop it? I couldn't have volunteered. I couldn't have made them stop. I couldn't have done a single thing to stop the horrors, and yet I still had to watch them.

Would they have had blue eyes like mine? Or hazel like hers?

Thinking about Felicity is so hard. Thinking about the child we lost is even harder.

Would they have had black hair like hers? Brown like mine? Maybe blond, or red, if they got the right genes? I can't stand to think about it, but these questions keep floating around in my mind.

She looked stunning. Truly stunning. For her interview, during her pre-Games time. She could pull anything off, that Felicity. She could look smoking hot in any outfit she pleased. If our child would have been anything like their mother, they would have been a star in the making. She was so perfect, and just like that she was plucked away. Fate is cruel.

She had a strategy, and she stuck to it until the end. Soon, she'll be nothing but a name in textbooks, but she was so much more than that. She was everything. She was everything I ever needed or wanted. She was loyal and reliable and never left my side. She was a real friend, not just a girlfriend. She was all that I needed, all that I wanted. I was going to be a father, I was going to ask her to marry me and we could have been such an adorable little family. Instead, the Capitol took her and our baby and killed them both in one strike.

Why? Why couldn't they have taken someone else instead? She was pregnant. It was obvious. They loved it. They loved having a pregnant babe in their Games. They loved the story. They loved the special twist. They treated her like a queen and then slaughtered her. What kind of person would think this is humane?

I sit by myself and twist the engagement ring I was going to give to my one true love around in my hands. It took so much money. I'll be lucky to sell this for half of what I bought it for.

That's not what matters. The fact is that by now, it should be on her finger, not in my hands. We were going to be a family. We were going to be happy. I was going to be there through everything.

And now we're here.

I kneel at the grave. I can't sell this ring now. I've put too much into it. I dig into the dirt, as deep as I can, constantly checking to be sure no one is watching, and drop the ring in the ground, covering it before anyone can see.

She'll always have this ring.

She'll always have my heart.

.

-Ralph Lauren, 14- Friend of Nautica-

This is bullshit.

Nautica was the best fighter we had in the Renegades, there's no way he should've died on the first day. That District 10 bitch has no idea what was coming to her. I hope she burns in hell for what she did.

Since he died I haven't shown my face. The fear of breaking down with everyone there to laugh at me is far too high at this point. When I took up life in a gang I vowed to never shed a tear, to laugh in the face of adversity and use it to get whatever the hell it is that I want.

But I'm still human. I still feel pain. I still feel lost, and broken. Nothing anyone does is going to change that.

It's at least a week before I leave my house. I know that if there had just been one gun in that Cornucopia that the Games would've been over in a day.

I dig my hands in my pockets and try to let the sunshine make me feel warm. I keep walking, trying to avoid people. I feel like everyone's watching me, pitying me, even if it's not true.

I feel alone. Nothing will be able to change that. He'll always be gone. And Nautica was the only one that was able to handle me.

I keep walking, head down, when suddenly I'm sent backwards when someone bumps straight into me. Probably on purpose. I'm not letting this guy get away with this.

I quickly call after him, "Hey!"

The kid looks about my age. He turns around slowly, cautiously. His eyes flicker up to me slowly.

"Who do you think you're messing with here?"

The kid swallows hard, stepping back. "I'm sorry," he says quietly, staring at the ground. These District kids, the one that get their noses wiped for them, have been taught to never make eye contact. This kid is pitiful, but obedient. He's just doing what Mommy and Daddy told him to. Adorable.

Okay, so he's kind of adorable. Only In the pitiful way, of course. Rosy cheeks, tan skin, shaggy hair, big blue eyes. Makes me hesitate before picking a fight. But not for too long. The cute ones can be the most dangerous. I lunge at him, causing him to brace for impact. His eyes are wide and he apologizes, but he doesn't fight back. He doesn't even break when I shout at him.

So maybe I need a punching bag, what does it matter? Nobody's here to stop me. Maybe beating this kid's brains out will make me strong again. He certainly cries like a bitch for mercy. I'm just about to knock him out when I feel someone grab the back of my shirt and pull me up to my feet.

When I look up I see an older guy with a yellow feather tucked behind his ear.

"Ant, go find Giselle and Cadogan," he instructs the kid, whose nose is bleeding by now. "I'll deal with this rat."

"Let me go!" I don't care if he's older than me, I'm still ready to fight.

"I'm not gonna hurt you." He drops me and scowls. "This is a pacifistic family. Just think before you go picking fights with kids who wouldn't even swat at the flies you eat for lunch, rat."

I sneer at him but he turns around before I can retort. I stand there and watch him go.

I take a deep breath, feeling more alone than ever.

Maybe that guy's obnoxious and he's wearing a gay-as-hell feather, but he's right.

Beating the shit out of cute kids isn't going to bring Nautica back. Nothing will bring him back. I will always be alone.

I turn around and run back home before the whole Square can see me crack.


District 9


-Ferris Ryce, 15- Friend of Karima-

Wake up at exactly 8:05 A.M.

Get out of bed.

Go to the bathroom.

Wash my face.

Put on pants, then shirt, then socks and shoes.

Comb my hair.

Eat one piece of bread with peanut butter for breakfast.

Brush teeth.

Walk to school with Karima.

Classes.

Eat lunch with Karima.

Classes.

Walk out to the fields with Karima.

Work.

Walk home with Karima.

Say, "I'll see you tomorrow!"

Go inside the house.

Bathe on Mondays. All other days, change into pajamas.

Go to bed at exactly 10:00 P.M.

Repeat.

It's a routine. Every weekday I would do this. This is what is normal. This is what is typical. This is what is unchanging.

So suddenly, everything is different. The change has been driving me crazy. How am I supposed to walk to school with Karima when she's not there anymore?! How am I supposed to eat lunch with her, or work with her, or walk with her? How am I supposed to have my routine without her?!

All I've been feeling lately is stress. I watched my best friend die in front of my eyes, which has just started a chain of misery. I can't go anywhere without feeling anxious that something else will happen to ruin my routine. Everything needs to be a certain way. On this fact, Karima and I agreed. We liked to have our routine, and stick to it. Anything out of the ordinary only caused anxiety.

I haven't been calm since she was sent away. Reaping days ruin the routine, because there is no school, but those are usually easily recovered from. This is totally different. A vital part to my routine has been eliminated, and now I can't seem to find balance in anything anymore. Not even school calms me, or work, where everything is planned out for you. Without her there has been no equilibrium. I'm not used to eating lunch alone. I'm not used to new people coming to sit with me because they feel bad for me. I'm not used to talking to people that aren't Karima. I know how to talk to Karima. I don't know how to talk to all these strangers that keep trying to make conversation with me. They're only trying to help, but it isn't much help.

They think I'm weird. They feel sorry for me, they think I'm messed up, or broken or something. I can see it in their eyes.

I sure as hell feel broken. I can't find solace in anything anymore.

My way of life has changed, and now I feel like the ship is being tossed around so much I can't gain stable footing. An itch, an irritation. Nothing can fix it, nothing can put a band-aid on it.

They all ask the same question to me. Since Karima died, they've just been asking one question. Even if they haven't said it out loud, I can see it in their eyes.

"What the hell is wrong with this kid?"

I don't know.

I honestly don't know.

.

-Sophia Cole, 17- Friend of Kade-

I was laughing as they let me try to steer the car.

I was laughing with the same people that days later would be laughing as Kade was slaughtered.

He fought with everything he had in him. He did everything he could to survive. He wanted to get home, he wanted to win himself a better life. And he ended up here. Dead. Maybe he's with his family now, but that doesn't mean I don't miss him.

I thought I was finally done being alone. I'd found a partner, a keeper, a survivor. I knew that we'd look out for each other. We were both capable of fighting. I thought that finally I found someone that wouldn't be picked off by the violence of the streets.

And he wasn't. I was right. It took a bloody battle to the last strike to take him down. He wasn't easily subdued.

It's not his fault that I'm alone. But that doesn't mean that being alone doesn't suck just as much as it did last time I was left by myself. In fact, it hurts more.

I hadn't gotten attached to my previous partners and allies. I didn't really care about them. We were out to protect each other, but I guarded my heart under lock and key. The feeling of alone was still fresh in those days, and I refused to let it happen again. One, two, three partners were killed, and three times I didn't blink. I had been expecting it, after all.

This was different. He was different.

It started out the same. I determined that this kid wouldn't last 20 days. I treated him just like the other ones. Live bait.

Then he proved me wrong. He showed me his fighting spirit. He showed me kindness. And friendship. He showed me determination. He was ready to keep selling his own body even after being objectified to the point of bearing scars just because it earned him money. Even though I was cold to him, he was warm to me. He was loyal. He opened up to me, even when I was still writing him off. He wriggled his way into my heart, and the more of his fighting spirit he showed me, the warmer I was to him. I finally thought I'd gotten it right. I thought I'd found a partner and a friend that would be in it with me for the long haul. One that wouldn't be going anywhere any time soon.

And then I was proven wrong again, by the Capitol's cruelty.

I barely knew what was happening even as it was happening. It was night time and I was trying to watch on the big screen because my tiny television wasn't working. He was struck dead before I had a chance to realize that the cannon I was hearing was for him.

Being alone is the most horrible feeling. You can barely find the drive to keep going. Who else do you have except yourself? And when is it time to call it quits?

For some reason, I keep finding the strength to face the world. Not sure why, but I know it's what I have to do. Even if I'm alone, I'll still have a chance to change something before I ultimately kick the dust.

I just have to keep fighting tooth and nail towards that day, just like Kade would have wanted me to.

~.~.


District 10


-Edwin Schindler, 52- Employer of Rachel-

I can't pretend I know everything about Rachel Turner.

How could anyone know everything that girl had been through? She was always a closed book, and I was never one to pry. Not that she ever would have told me if I had tried. The world has broken her trust and locked up her heart. That was something I could never unlock or try to fix. She needs someone very special to do that.

There was a trace of it in that boy she allied with. There's no doubt about that. Whatever he had was enough for her to die to protect. That means something. But it would have taken someone even more special than him to really help her.

She was a firecracker. She was stubborn as a mule. Nothing was going to stop her from stepping foot in the Arena. I didn't know her plans, but even if I did I wouldn't have tried to stop her. She was an independent young woman that could make decisions for herself. Once she made one, she never stopped to reconsider. A quality that is dangerous, fatal, even, but respectable. I'm sure the parents of that girl that was reaped were thankful to her. And Kade, as well. She may have lost her life, but she used it to save others. Even if she was brash and tough, and snarky and sarcastic, she was not a bad person.

Somehow, even though she had nothing, she impacted the lives of others. Only Rachel Turner could find a way to go out with a bang. I say that in the most loving way, of course. It's what she would have wanted. In fact, I'm sure it was the exact wording she would have used if she were talking about it herself. That's a Rachel thing. Things like that about her tend to rub off on you when you spend all day around her. She always knew how to bring about a laugh.

Even if I never got to fully know her, I don't regret giving her the stability of a job working with me. I don't regret hiring her off of the street. She was a strong young woman that wanted to bring about change however she could. She taught me things, ruined some stereotypes, all while swearing every five words or so. She stood strong in who she was and the decisions that she made. She never once looked back, in all the time I've known her.

It would be silly of me to say that I knew who she really was. Nobody could have unlocked that.

But I can say in peace that she was a strong person that wanted change.

She died for Kade, she died for her beliefs. She never wavered.

That's a quality I only hope I can mimic. I may be older than she, but I've learned so much from her.

I'm almost sure that I will never meet anyone quite like Rachel Turner again. But that won't stop me from continuing to reach out to those that need it, no matter who they may be.

Thank you, Rachel, for the ways in which you've changed me and made me a better man.

May you rest in peace with your family and friends.

.

-Sire, 17- Friend of Raoul-

He tried to teach me how to play it once.

It didn't go very well. He was a lot more serious about it than I was. I was paying attention when he showed me how to tighten the bowstrings and put rosin on them, really. I was paying attention when he showed me the strings: G, D, A, E. I was following there.

I stopped paying attention when he said "G string" with a totally straight face. That's where he lost me. I was laughing and he was getting annoyed, but Raoul was pretty patient, so he just let me go, even though he didn't get it.

I tried to pay attention after that, but I was too far gone at that point. He just kept talking about stuff that I couldn't possibly follow. Something about intervals, and tuning. He would play two strings and just know what to do.

"See, you can hear that compared to the G, the D is flat. So you tighten the G string to bring up the pitch." He lost me again. He sighed indignantly, but after that I just let him go, knowing that I should leave the fiddle-playing to the guy that actually knows what he's doing.

He tried to help me play at least "Twinkle Twinkle Little Star," but that didn't go very well either. Eventually we decided to call it quits, and instead I just listened as he played. Let me tell you, he could really make that old, rotting piece of wood sing. I don't know anyone that could do what he could do. I don't know who could take that old hunk of junk and use it to make something beautiful. Not even the best-trained violinist in the Capitol symphony could do what he did. He always wished for a better instrument, not like there was ever a chance he could get one, those are so expensive, but he used to fantasize about it.

Here I was, thinking maybe he could be able to get it after he won. Use it to show the whole world real music. Real passion. Real art.

He was close. The District was daring to hope for a Victor. People were rooting him on. Of course, we all expected Rachel to come out on top after the reaping and through the stuff in the Capitol, but Raoul was showing everyone that they were wrong to underestimate him. He made Drake and I proud. I thought that maybe if he got home he could get the courage talk to Vera. I thought that things could work out after all.

I was proven wrong. It all seemed to happen in slow motion. One second I was sure he'd win the fight, the next he was dead and that was it. It was over. Amazing how quickly things can change.

I've been alright. Heartbroken, sure, but Drake and I have grown closer over it. Things are going to be alright. I miss him, but we're going to keep moving forward, just like that. As cheesy as it sounds, that's what he would want.

I just sit and think of the memories, and allow myself to smile. I'm going to be okay. I'm going to move on.

We're going to make it.

~.~.


District 11


-Jackson Dawson, 22- Boyfriend of Martina-

How did this happen?

I sit by my mother's bedside, missing her more than anything. If Martina was here she would be sitting next to me. She might take my hands in hers and tell me everything was going to be alright. I was already losing my mother, I never even thought about losing Martina, too. My love… My one and only love… Taken away so suddenly and so quickly. She did everything and it still wasn't enough. That boy from 10 still took her away.

Her family has each other to help them through. Who do I have? This sick woman who is asleep half the time and barely remembers who I am the other half. She's slipping, failing, soon she'll be gone. I thought that I'd be alright when it happened, after all, I had Martina, who would keep me from doing anything stupid and keep my emotions in check.

Those fights we had in the past seem so fucking irrelevant now. It took far too long for me to put into words that the reason I held her so tightly was because she was all I had left. Just her, only her. Only Martina. I knew my mother would slip, and even before she died that I'd lose her. Martina was my rock. No matter what she was there. She would help me through. We would make it through this together. That was how it was always supposed to be. Her and me against everyone else.

My mother coughs and her eyes flicker open, and I quickly lean in.

"You're awake!" each time she closes her eyes it becomes less and less likely that they'll open again. She doesn't say anything, but I quickly fetch her a glass of water and some bread. She's been getting pretty much everything I've been able to buy lately. I keep just as much as I need to survive so that I can keep taking care of her. She needs the nourishment.

"How are you feeling?"

She just shakes her head at me. She just stopped talking one day, and has barely said a word since. I suppose the effort of getting a word out has just become too much. Either that, or she's giving me the silent treatment because I've been failing to nurse her back to health. It wouldn't surprise me if that were the case. I can't help feeling like I'm letting her down. I could have never held up a household, I can't even care for my own mother. Every day she gets worse and all I can do is watch.

Since Martina died, I've become obsessed with working. From the second I'm awake to the second I go to bed, I want to work, I'm itching to earn money. Taking a bath makes me anxious because I could spend my time making more money to try and get my mother to someone with medicine. How was I supposed to care for anyone like this? I never could.

Leah and Trey still wave to me when I run into them at the Square. Martina's parents have opened their household to me. They want to let me in, to share their grief. But the truth is, I just can't. I'm too broken to open up by now. I have to keep working. I have to keep working, all the time, constantly getting my hands dirty and callused. It's the mark of a true citizen. I can't stand to go back to Martina's family now. My mother's eyes close again. I put the glass of water in the kitchen, and by the time I come back, her chest isn't moving anymore. I try to resuscitate her, anything to bring her back, but I know that it's too late. I've officially failed.

I'm about to… I don't know what… When I hear a knock at the door.

When I get it, Trey and Leah are there. Martina's siblings hold up a box to me.

"Hi Jackson. Here's some dinner for you and your mother."

"Oh. Thanks, but…" I swallow hard. I failed. I can't make myself tell them that.

"Second thought… Why don't you come home for dinner?"

"I-"

"Come. Please."

I glance back behind my shoulder, tears coming to my eyes.

"We want to help you," Trey says quietly.

I don't know what I'm getting myself into. "A-Alright."

I shut the door behind me, and together we walk back to the Reyés household.

.

-Mich Valtier, 18- Friend of Edgard-

I've been locked up for days.

It feels like just yesterday that the reaping wasn't a worry. It was just another day. Nothing really bad would happen, after all, there were so many names in that bowl it wasn't likely that anyone's would be picked, right?

I'm safe from being reaped.

Edgard is dead.

I believed in him. I guess I thought, maybe when faced with a fight for survival Edgard would become a different person. I guess I thought that he'd become bloodthirsty and determined to make it back. I was wrong. I feel ashamed. I should have been there for him more. I should have given him some kind of advice before he left. There's nothing I could have done, but there are plenty of things I could have tried. At least then I could have said that I tried. I did something, even if it didn't work.

I didn't even try.

I hear a knock on my door and hide in my blanket. I'm sick of my parents trying to get me to come out of my room. I'll come out when I'm ready to face the District knowing that Edgard's not coming back. I'm not ready for it yet. I'm not ready for any of it.

The door swings open.

"Go away!" I shout. I don't want to be bothered.

"I hiked all the way here, I'm not going anywhere." I look up and see Kayla.

"I'm putting the search for Mr. Right on hold," she says. I know it's supposed to be a joke, but I can't make myself laugh. I only feel pain thinking about him. All the things I could have done, but didn't do.

"You look like a mess." She sits on my bed.

"I just lost my best friend."

"I lost my friend too."

"It sucks."

"Yeah, it does."

We sit in silence.

"You know he'd be upset if we both spent the rest of our lives how we are?"

"I know! I… I'm going to face it again. Someday. But… Not now."

"Okay." She curls up next to me and puts her head on my shoulder.

"I'm tired of dealing with all of this alone," she finally says.

"Yeah. Me too."

"I'm going to miss him so much." She sniffles. I hand her a tissue.

"Yeah. Me too."

"You really think we're going to be able to keep going?"

"Put one foot in front of the other. We'll find a way. Just like anyone else in this District that lost their loved ones to the Games."

She sobs slightly into my shoulder. "I still have one more year," she sobs quietly. "How am I supposed to face it!? What if it's me?!"

"It won't be."

"That's what we said this year!" she sobs loudly.

"Sh… I know. But let's not manage that until we get there. Let's do something else."

"Like what?"

"Sleep? I haven't done it in days."

She sniffles and glances at me. "Oh… Okay."

"We'll be there. So if the other has nightmares…"

"We can save them."

She lays down and closes her eyes. For the first time in weeks, I close mine, and sleep comes easily.

~.~.


District 12


-Robyn Ponderosa, 14- Sister of Wren-

Jay doesn't get it.

Jay doesn't get that he lost a sister. He's too busy laughing as that Merchant girl runs her fingers up his arms. He doesn't seem to understand that while he was flirting, his sister was killed.

He doesn't even come after me when I run away. I run up to my room, the room I shared with my sister, and jump under my covers. I can't believe it happened so fast, and I can't believe I'm alone in my suffering. Dad's working a shift. Mom was making lunch. I hide under my covers and sob. Maybe Jay doesn't care, but I do. Maybe they're all too busy to notice, but I'm not.

Ma rushes up to my room quickly. She must have finally been let in on the fact that Wren is dead and no matter what nothing will change that. She went straight into the bloodbath with that girl from 4. That dense flirt that had no place telling Wren what to do. But Wren was so quiet and polite that she went along with it. I know Wren was smart enough to know that the bloodbath isn't a good idea.

"Oh, Robyn." Ma looks pretty shaken, but her eyes are tearless. She sits on my bed and pulls me into a tight hug. "You're going to be okay."

"How can you say that?!" I shout at her. "If Wren was reaped and killed what's saving me from the same fate!?" I hiccup and sob.

"Sh… Robyn-"

"You don't understand! You don't understand because you're safe from them! You don't get it! I'm not safe, I'm not even close to safe!"

"Each year you get older, your likelihood of winning-"

"She was 17! Wouldn't that have made her likelihood of winning really high!?"

"Robyn, please, don't make this difficult."

I glare at her. "Don't make this difficult!? I lost a sister and you're telling me not to make it difficult!? How can you look your youngest daughter in the eyes and say something like that?!"

"Robyn-"

"Don't Robyn me! When you say my name like that I just know that you're going to try and say something that will make me feel pathetic for crying, and I don't want to hear it, alright!?"

My mother's eyes fill with tears. Maybe I hurt her feelings, but I'm too angry to apologize now. I sob into my hands, not letting anything console me.

Nobody understands the kind of hell that is on the road ahead. Trying to figure out how to go on without my older sister. They'll just keep on laughing at me.

"I'm sorry," my mother says, a tear rolling down her cheek. "You have to understand that this is going to be a hard road for all of us."

She hangs her head, and I really feel bad.

When she wraps her arms around me, I hug her back.

I may be lost and hopeless, and totally unsure of where to turn, but at least I have my family there to help me find my way.

.

-Albus Aslan, 12- Brother of Leo-

Nightmares have become a common occurrence in the Aslan household.

It's really just a question of which child will wake up screaming.

I'm lucky to have a dreamless sleep that night. At least I get some rest. Unfortunately, that's ended by a scream coming from Rebecca's room. I rub my eyes sleepily. I wonder if Dereck will tend to her, of if I should. Either way, I know I won't be able to sleep until I know for sure that the 6-year-old has been tended to, so I tiredly shuffle over to her room. Dereck has done this for me, so I figure that I owe it to both him and to my poor sister.

"H-He was being tortured!" she shouts hysterically to a listening Dereck. "He was being tortured and bleeding and yelling!"

Why is it mandatory to view the horrors of the Games? Why must 6-year-olds realize that their brothers, sisters, are dying? Why can't they just be left alone? Why must we all grow up so fast.

"Get her a glass of water," I tell Dereck. "I'll stay up with her."

He looks exhausted. I know he probably just wants to go back to bed. He gets up to go to the kitchen, and I sit down next to my little sister.

It seems like years ago that I was the one that was afraid with Leo comforting me. I long for those days, back when I was a child. I might have been naïve, but at least I wasn't broken.

Every day, I try to be more like my oldest brother. Every day I try to continue the legacy Leo left when he died. Too early, he died. I know that I could suffer the same fate, or Dereck, or even little Rebecca, someday when she's of age. Most of my nightmares involve one or more of us being reaped and sent away. As much as I try to act like Leo, I'm nothing like him. I couldn't be as strong or as brave as my brother. I wouldn't last a second in the Games.

I know I shouldn't hate that girl from 5, but I do. He gave his life for her. I have no idea why, but I know that he wouldn't regret what he did. That's the kind of person he was. He would have done it all over again. That doesn't make me resent her any less. Why did she get to live? She didn't even do anything after he gave his life for her! She just hid!

Rebecca clutches my shirt and sobs into my chest, and I realize that I have more important things to deal with right in this moment. I have to be there for her, just like Leo was for me. I remember him and try to figure out what he would do if he were here.

I don't say anything to her. I just hold her to my chest. Dereck hands her a glass of water and says good night. Once she finishes her drink, I lay with her. She curls up against me and soon she's sleeping again.

I close my eyes, taking a deep breath and feeling the warmth of the little girl against me.

When sleep comes, black and dreamless, I let it take me.

A/N: This is gonna be quick. I have… Three hours and twenty minutes to whip up an epilogue chapter. Cool. Alright. See you then.

CQ: Same as last chapter. Who stood out or how did I do with your tribute's epilogue?

Alright, see you soon.