Maya Eberhart (16), District Six Female-POV

Standing underneath the stage, I can hear the echoing voice of Clark, warming up the crowd before they see me. Ever since I'd woken up in recovery, all of the words had been plain and simple that I'd said; probably since I remained in the arena mindset. And perhaps it was right of me to do so, as with all of their surgical equipment, they easily could have crossed me when my back was turned. Gripping the silver locket, my token in the arena, I took a deep breath to calm my racing heart. A couple seconds passed, though it felt like minutes to me, before I was able to relinquish my steely grip; it had turned into my coping method so far. The only way that I could keep from running away from the flashing lights, locking myself into a small space where no one would be able to find me again; the thoughts of doing so had never been so tempting before.

Rustling my fingers by my new ear, a distracted smile is pulled out of me, marveling out how it operates just like my old ear had. From the hasty explanation the doctors had given, with me glaring at them silently the entire time, it's implanted with bionics. If I found that I wanted to, I could turn the hearing level up and down, touching the fake skin that felt so much like my old ear had; it sounded freaky and strange, probably some sort of setup, so I continued to say nothing. My words would have been lost on them, twisted and turned until it didn't resemble my original thoughts and ideas, and only then would they release them to the public eye. Of course, everyone would be watching my every move from now on; some of the people in my District would be frightened of me for sure. At least they wouldn't be able to see the various scars, as all of them had been removed, with the exception of a tiny one on my ankle; that one I'd brought into the arena, so they didn't intend to remove it.

I moved forward onto the metal plate at the insistence of one of the officials, probably a Gamemaker, I thought with disgust. The dress they had outfitted me in swept the floor, the texture of it more fitting for a fair princess to wear, as it draped down like a fallen leaf. Of course, they depicted the locket as being necessary for me to wear during this, and I didn't mind it at all; here and in the arena, it had kept my family close to me, even if they were really millions of miles away. Drawing the color scheme for the dress from it, various shades of silver and black covered me. At the top of the dress, where the strapless top clung tightly to my body, it was a darker shade of silver, that way it would contrast with the locket. Remaining relatively the same, when it became looser, the color only changed to black six inches above my feet. For some awful reason, six inch heels had been slipped onto my feet; I'd of rather be interviewed in my arena garb, not in the dress with the elaborate up-do. Completing the ensemble with silver earrings, shaped like the locket Cat gave me, no one would be able to tell that I'd been in the Hunger Games off of physical appearance alone; I'd always looked malnourished, even before the arena, so my skinny frame wouldn't put them off in the slightest.

Instead of sinking downwards like it had in the arena, the metal plate rose slowly upwards, leaving me feeling bewildered, yet I didn't let my facial features show it at all. A blank expression greeted the large Capitol audience, who roared and cheered as Clark Hallen shook my hand furiously, in which I only nodded quietly at him. Anything that I said here would and could be used against me, so it didn't make any sense at all to talk unless it would be required of me. But still, they'd be expecting me to answer the interview questions, though I didn't want to in the very slightest. Taking my seat, I didn't let the mask droop one bit as Clark stared forward enthusiastically, ready to launch into one of the most grueling things in my life; I would have rather gone back in the arena right now.

"I must say, I certainly didn't expect to be talking to you right now, Maya!" Clark said lightheartedly, acting like it was such a wonderful thing, even though it wasn't; twenty five people had died and they didn't care at all.

Staring blankly forward, I wondered if he was going to understand my feelings towards him. Briefly, my eyes drift over the audience, in which the honey blond locks of Cassandra, my Escort, stick out like a sore thumb. An air of disappointment is in her face, making it evident that she wants me to talk to him, that she wants me to be civil to someone who congratulates murderers; who cheers on people like me. Just fake it, Maya, please. That's the message that comes all too clear from her, which draws an inaudible sigh out of me; she's the only person in the Capitol that I don't mind. Cassandra tried to save children since the last Victor died from a morphling overdose; at that moment, I promise myself that I'll never turn to that drug, for its effects are truly despicable. Biting my lip, minutes must have passed before I utter any words, the first words that I had said since my fit of anger towards Leah in the arena.

"Neither did I…," I reply, letting a small smile tug at the corners of my face.

Clark chuckles at the, along with the audience. From what I've been noting, the most sullen people come off as comedians to them, and it doesn't amuse me in the slightest. Turning my gaze towards Cassandra again, she has her fingers pointed towards the corners of her lips; probably wants me to smile more. Could I smile like I used to? I didn't even know the answer to that question, because I hadn't even tried to yet; no good reason had presented itself. But perhaps still being alive is a good enough one, since I'll be able to return home to my family; a family who doesn't have to starve anymore. A minute later, I found myself beaming out at the crowd, imagining that I'm all alone with my family at last; a sad sort of happiness stirs up within me. It's not a very good feeling, but it doesn't mean that it's a bad feeling either…

"Really though, Maya, I am quite impressed with you. Going from being on the Bloodbath list to becoming the Victor? Remarkable! So tell me, what is the very first thing you're going to do when you get back to District Six?"

My eyes are hovering over Cassandra, as I'm still not all too sure wherever Clark is going to stab me in the back or not. Even before the Hunger Games, I'd never been really good at trusting people, and now, I feel like I'm lacking that quality even more than before. I didn't mind it though, as there's a good reason to not trust people; someone out there wants my blood, I just know it. For someone, there entire future could have been ruined, and I, I am the only person that they are able to blame. Because of that, I can't say that I'm looking forward to the Victory Tour which I'll be forced to embark on in six months; it's going to be pure torture, seeing the faces of the angered loved ones. At least they recognize the sins that the Capitol made me commit, instead of cheering blindly and demanding to hear more about it; the latter still makes me feel downright sick about this place, so much that I never want to return to it.

"Hug my little sister as tight as I can," I say honestly, feeling a pang of longing for the simple and overlooked District.

"Ah, Cat…," Clark states wistfully, drawing me to the conclusion that he had interviewed her, "Looks a lot like you, doesn't she?"

Closing my eyes for a brief moment, the last image that I had of my sister resonated through my head. Teary eyes, already turning red from the immense grief, were the same exact shade of gray as my own. Long blonde hair, it too fell straight, without a single curl or wave in sight; I suppose ours could have been similar in that aspect. Yet there wasn't a single freckle anywhere in sight, nothing to obscure the pale skin that we too shared; that was enough to deny us looking alike in my mind. Besides, Cat appeared innocent and skittish, and I'm sure that especially now, I seem to be anything but that.

"No," I state plainly, opening my eyes to stare out at the crowd again, "She looks more like Marco, my brother, in my opinion."

"Oh, I see…," he murmurs, before returning to his questions.

There's inquiries about my ear, how it works, and if I can still hear as well as I used to. After pointing out that I've been answering his questions the entire time, without asking to have anything repeated, Clark quickly shuts up about that. For the most part, things just fly past me, as if I'm not really the one being interviewed; in my mind, I'm at home watching someone else who left the Hunger Games. But eventually, I found myself being forced to snap back to reality, right after reliving one of my fonder memories. A memory of Cassius, the laid back boy who tried to comfort me, and the one time that I finally let him; it had been hard enough taking his death calmly without allying with him. Allies didn't make any sense to me, but it's been recognized as a good strategy, as long as you could trust the person to not kill you in your sleep; I didn't trust people that way. No one in their right mind would trust someone who was out to kill him; hopefully whoever I'd have to Mentor would understand that simple fact.

"When you realized that Leah had killed Persei, how did you feel?" Clark pressed, repeating the question again, even though he knew that I heard him perfectly.

The smile I'd be wearing for Cat and Cassandra vanished quickly, replaced by a scowl, "How did I feel? For as long as they'd existed, the Careers are determined to bring pain and terror to the Tributes, no, the children from the other Districts. I've always hated them for it, and when they had the nerve to kill Persei right in front of me, that had been Leah's fatal mistake. When I killed Leah, I didn't kill her for me…I killed her for each and every person that the Careers had harmed, even if they didn't even realize it."

Clark's blue eyes widen, pressing his bleached eyebrows up towards the ceiling; it had been the firmest response that I'd given him yet, "Well Maya, we have a little clip that we'd prepared for you. After it's finished, I'm sure everyone is going to want an autograph or two, and then we'll be sending you back home to District Six! Sounds good, right?"

Feeling exasperated, I forced the reply to come out of my mouth, "Sounds good…"

A screen lowers down behind us, in the exact right spot that neither Clark nor I have to angle our bodies to get a good look at it. How convenient, I thought dryly as I examined it, bracing myself for the horrors that are going to come. For a moment, it remains pitch black, until 'THE 175TH HUNGER GAMES' appears in glittering silver letters. As with each and every Quarter Quell, they don't actually start with the Hunger Games, but rather with the announcement; they'll move on to forcing me to see the deaths all over again in a moment. If I could, this would be the moment where I'd make Cat cover her eyes, as to try and preserve her innocence for another year; hopefully Marco is doing that right now, as I'm sure Mom and Dad are watching this on the screen in the factories, busy working to keep them from starving another day.

President Gremlin stood on a stage, poised as he looked around. The Capitol citizens watched eager with anticipation for him to announce the Quarter Quell, a sickening idea that haunted the minds of each child eligible for one, with the exception of the monstrous Careers. They probably broke out into cheers, just like the Capitol audience had done.

"The Seventh Quarter Quell…," President Gremlin paused, smiling cruelly at his captive audience, "And to remind the rebels, that no matter how hard they fought and ran, they cannot find shelter even in the most remote places…it will be located in the ruins of old District Thirteen!"

Letting the cheers and hollers of the outrageous citizens fade into the background, they peculiarly showed a brief footage of each of the Reapings. Not the part where they read off the speech, but where each person shook hands, having their names announced for each District; it reminded me painfully of the Bloodbath list, especially after seeing little Ebon grin up at the petrified Cedar. Upon closer inspection of the tape, a little white box showed the live filming of me, that way everyone across the country could get my reaction; currently, I was grimacing as if in pain, but I didn't bother to change the expression in the very slightest. Next, the Chariot Rides appeared, with my cool and collected gaze staring off into the Capitol audience; Cassius grinned and wave, causing roses to be thrown at him. He must have liked it too, I reflected, remembering what a flirt that boy was, or rather, had been.

"They're almost never right on the Bloodbath list. You'll be fine…," Cassius had said, pulling me into a comforting hug. Even if he had been a bit of a slacker, I couldn't help but miss him right now, wishing that he could have been here as well. Though it was probably because we shared that experience, that each of us had been forced into the mines, and that he was from District Six, logic didn't seem to factor through my mind. Wistful thinking wasn't going to get me anywhere though, so I raised my eyes back up to the screen, bracing myself for whatever would be coming next. That's all that I could do in this situation, watch and hope that I won't fall apart; Victors in years before me had done just that at this part of the post-Hunger Games festivities. Briefly, I can't help but remember how right Cassius had been; I was fine in the end, meaning that I should have been the one comforting him…

Evidently, the filmmakers didn't see any importance in showing the interviews, as the shot of all of us in our finery went by in a flash. If someone had blinked, they really would have missed it at that point; I almost wished that I had. Of course, they couldn't have ended the film right there, as they had to come across for an angle to give me; an angle that I hadn't been able to identify yet, just the remorse that I felt watching everyone, knowing that they're all going to be shipped back to various Districts soon enough. Gulping down vile that threatened to rise in my throat from the next clip, I try to remain unnerved as I watch the death of Ether Lessing, being tortured in several places by that awful Leah Dagger; according to the little white box, all I look is wary, as if Leah is going to jump out at me with those knives, the same way she had been doing in my nightmares. Quickly enough though, the image is replaced with Cedar's terrified expression as Tetra threw a knife into her throat, ending her life all too soon; it doesn't lessen the grief of killing Tetra that much. Jackson replaces Cedar, nearly killing the little girl from District Ten, but ends up being severely wounded; I find myself smiling slightly at the idea that a twelve year old could beat a trained Career. Of course, they don't remain on Wednesday for long, switching over to the brutal murder of Jitz, which brings out a scowl on my face and all of my hatred towards the Careers to the front of my mind. Cashmere is shown next, cracking the skull and dangling Ebon, a painful and unusual way to kill someone so innocent; he too reminds me of Cat a bit, just like Persei had done. Hoisting a spear, Reina shoves it through Josh, who manages to knock her out as his last act; I hadn't even known that she killed as well. It shifts away from the Bloodbath, and I can't help but realize how they neglected to show the way that Abe had died; the way that they had killed him before the Hunger Games had even begun.

I'm shown next, setting up traps with an eerie smile on my face the entire time, and I can't help but feel numb after seeing it. Those traps had killed people, and just like the Careers, it appeared that I immensely enjoyed it; once again, regret fills me quickly. Of course, the cameras don't have the sense to show something completely unrelated, no what they show is horrible. Leah, who I like less and less as time goes on, tosses the healable body of Nicolas Riddle through a door…A door with one of my traps on it; I didn't even know that I'd taken his life as well. Thankfully, the next couple scenes that are shown is of the District Seven team, along with the girl from District Eight, running from something. Upon realizing that it had been a Minotaur, I can't help but be thankful that I never met that mutation; because I'm startled easily, it would have taken me out for sure. They skip over Willa's death, not even showing her again, so it's impossible for me to know if she ever gave birth to her babies or not; from a odd look in Clark's eyes, I'm guessing that she did. The next couple of deaths flicker by, yet I still feel the same amount of pain that I had before; if I had died, one of the might have been able to be alive right now, and they'd probably be feeling the same exact way.

So many more Tributes are shown, but as the clip had been running for a while, they don't get much coverage; I still watch with horror as Fialla is electrocuted, knowing that I could have been the one to walk into that trap just as easily…During the feast, they show me grappling with Tetra, taking her out with fury in my eyes; I didn't feel bad about it anymore, as I'd learned of the gruesome matter that she had taken Cassius' life earlier. He could have been the one to make it out alive, had it not been for the demented Tribute from District Eleven, yet I couldn't find it in myself to blame the dead anymore; it felt all too unjust. By the time that they get up to the finale, hollowness is all that I felt; there'd been so much pain that I didn't even know about, pain that I wished could have never happened.

"Do you really think you're going to be able to defeat a Career?" I watch Leah ask boldly, noting how wild and feral she looks.

I spat up at her, causing the audience to erupt into sick and twisted laughter; it hadn't been meant to be funny. Cringing slightly, I can't help but watch as Leah comes forward again, having already taken the life of someone who could have been here, having already murdered Persei; it must have been the only thing that Leah had been taught to do, since the very day that she had been born back in her District.

"I am a Career, the last surviving one!" Leah adds, glaring spitefully down at me; I note how they edited out the part about giving them a good show. They already didn't care for her anymore, just like they had thrown away Cashmere and Griffin when they were done with them. Truly, the people in the Capitol were born without emotion, only being able to fake it as to not be labeled as unusual or cruel; they detested being identified for what they really are.

"And the next dead one," I watch myself say, grinning widely as if it had been the best day in my life; I shift uncomfortably in my seat, only now aware of how twisted I had sounded.

Shutting my eyes, I only listen to the coverage of the final fight between Leah and I. It had been a long one, painfully so, in which I believe that each of us lost a little bit more of our humanity. That was something that I'd be sure to try and get back, as soon as I possibly could, unless I wanted to end up like some of the Career Victors, who still trained as if they would be plunged back into the arena at any moment. You Careers make me sick! Cringing slightly, I know what they're showing on the screen right now, and I don't have any temptations to open my eyes to look. What they're going to be showing is awful; they're showing the death of Leah, a stab with the knife for each Tribute that couldn't have been alive at that time. Then, it had made sense to do so, yet now, I couldn't help but feel horrible for doing it; all I had done was prove that I was no better than the Careers had been.

"Ladies and gentlemen, it is my extreme honor to present the Victor of the One Hundred and Seventy Fifth Hunger Games! Miss Maya Eberhart of District Six!"

Opening my eyes, the smile that I plastered on my face had been all too fake. Everything went by in a blur, from Clark congratulating me one more time, and the rush of Capitol people coming forward with paper and pen. It must have been hours until they finally allowed me to board the train back home, to finally escape with an aching hand from the millions of autographs. Just about each person there had demanded to take a picture with me, a tell tale sign that even in District Six I'll be denied my privacy; my family as well, I believe. Vaguely, I'm aware of boarding the train to go home, with a pat on the back from my Escort, yet I still don't choose to pay attention. All I want to do is see my family again…


Four months had passed since I left the Hunger Games, but I don't think that the experiences have left me yet. In the middle of the night, I'll wake up in a cold sweat, convinced that Leah's standing above me with her daggers. No one else in Victors Village understands what I'm going through, as my family and Mr. Lisette are the only people that live in my house; there isn't any tips on how to cope, besides using the horrible yet addictive drug. Instead, I've become an expert at leaping out of the window soundlessly, running through the various parts of District as far as I can. Sometimes, if I'm in a real state, I'll actually make it far enough that I have to go to the underground, the train service in District Six in order to make it back home; our District isn't one of the tiny ones. Despite having done this often, a sense of panic develops each time the concrete surrounds me, and from what I've guessed, my time in the arena has turned me claustrophobic. The people who run it always give me sympathetic looks, but the section of the train that I choose always happens to vacate as soon as I enter; no one in District Six, besides my family and Mr. Lisette, enjoys my company anymore, shaking in their boots each time that I look their way.

The only time that I really get interaction outside of my home has been the school. Every now and then, I tend to drop in to crack open the history book with the rest of the class, but even they don't welcome me with open arms. I'm enrolled still at the high school, yet a funny feeling tells me that I'd be better off home schooled, or even dropping out completely; as a Victor, I'm set for life. Blood money though, I have to remind myself each time my thoughts turn that way, money that shouldn't be used for idiotic and frivolous things, as people had to die for it. My sister didn't quite see it the same way as me, claiming that we shouldn't conserve it for that very reason; in the end, we bought her a Capitol style dress for the next ceremony that she'd have to attend. And if my mind is clear, which it often wasn't, that would end up being the Reaping; she'd only be fifteen, with the cumulative tesserae slips still in there, even if she didn't need it anymore.

It just so happened that this was one of those nights, the nights where the visions and memories couldn't be kept at bay. Making sure not to disturb a single member of my family, in which Mr. Lisette had become a grandfather figure to my siblings and me, I pulled on the dark black hooded jacket quietly. Pajama bottoms would be all right for running I decided, though that didn't prevent me from leaving my knife behind; ever since returning to District Six, there wasn't a single place that I went without it, from the terrifying fear of being attacked. Opening up the window, the white latch is silent, mainly because I'd oiled it on several occasions, with this very purpose in mind. I swung my legs over, placing them delicately on the large oak tree, its branches conveniently placed for a quick exit, and climbed out from the house. After a quick glance behind me, no one had discovered my absence, and none of the District kids had yet summoned up the nerve to steal from me, so I didn't bother to close the window shut. Scurrying down the tree, the dim shadow registered in my mind before I could stop myself, landing me face to face with a stranger. Eyes widening, my hand flew to the knife, right as he stepped forward out of the shadow.

"Get away from me!" I hissed, trembling only slightly out of terror; how ironic the Capitol would have found this sight to be.

The stranger had dark hair, cut so short that I almost couldn't make out the color of it in the poor lighting; really, it could have been blonde and I wouldn't have noticed. Cold blue eyes, filled with such venom and yet peace at the same time, examined each and every inch of me. Everyone knew who I was now, the paranoid blonde Victor who runs around in a dark jacket and polka dot pajama pants; this stranger knew as well evidently. Noting the large frame, covered in a jumper and leather jacket, I couldn't help but wonder if this was some sort of Peacekeeper. If that was the case, then my hammering heart had worked up for nothing; just about each Capitol official here had gotten my autograph the very day that I had returned. Tucking a strand of hair behind my ear, I still didn't lessen my grip on the knife; there was no way that I would put my guard down around this stranger.

"Maya Eberhart…," he said softly, "You were the one to live, while he had been the one to perish…A perplexing yet common truth."

Frowning, I spoke without thought, one of the traits that I had managed to regain around a month after the Hunger Games, "So I've been told. Now, mind telling me exactly who you are?"

Instead of obliging me, his eyes travel down towards where my knife is concealed. Furrowing my eyebrows, the odds that he knows where it was were very slim, yet something told me not to put it past him. An aura of havoc and control, power and might, and something surreal surrounded this man; unlike others, his eyes were soulless, with no emotion other than fury displayed in them. A smile tugged at the corners of his lips, prompting it to vanish as quickly as it had come, almost robotic like. Taking a slight step backwards, the sense of paranoia I so often feel continued to build and build the longer that I remained in his presence. Reaching his hand into the pocket of his coat, I bit the inside of my cheek, preparing to be launched into a combat situation, when he instead pulled out a worn piece of paper.

"This had been his, Maya. It rightfully belongs to you, the one who bested them all…," the stranger utters, completely ignoring my question as he extends his hand, holding the paper out for me.

For some reason, I find myself taking it from him. Bending my gaze downwards for a moment, I make out old and faded handwriting. My dearest Jet… My eyes flicker upwards, wondering if this is some cruel and sick joke orchestrated by the Capitol, but I'm met with nothingness. As quickly as he had come, the stranger had vanished, with no explanation of who he was at all. Biting the inside of my cheek more, a copper taste, probably blood, flooded my mouth; for once, I didn't mind it at all. Folding the letter back up, I shoved it inside of my black jacket; there wasn't any reason for me to wish to relive the memories right now. Hopefully, this would all be a cruel dream, one of the frightening nightmare sequences where you wake up from one and find yourself in another; being in the Hunger Games, that hadn't come off as something unusual to me anymore…


Things mostly stayed the same, with the exception that I couldn't run out of the window while on the train ride. Just like all the other Victors, they forced me onto a "grand" tour, taking place six months after the Hunger Games was over; six months until the mourning families had their strength tested. Starting with District Twelve, I'd work my way down the list, skipping District Six, and saving that one for the finale; cruelly, the Capitol had joked 'save the best for last' on countless occasions. Before, this would have been something that a glimmer of excitement would accompany, yet not anymore. At least twenty five people are going to be glaring at me today, wishing that I was dead, and as much as I was glad they felt that way, it wasn't going to be my favorite thing to experience. While Cassandra assured me countless times that Victors typically enjoyed this, that Gettys, the Victor before me, had felt the same way, a knot of dread had worked its way into my stomach. Somehow, the thought of being interviewed in front of the Capitol is preferable to this; probably because they love you no matter what you do there, while in the Districts, you're guaranteed to have a large portion of haters.

District Thirteen sent shivers down my spine, as tools for mining covered various surfaces; it reminded me too much of the arena. Because the Capitol forced them to, the people there provided sidewalk chalk, to decorate the ground with; I heard one of them mumbling about how much Adia would have enjoyed it. Once most of the chalk had been used up, everything shone with more vivid color than it had before, but the worst part was yet to come. Standing on the stage, families of the deceased Tributes stood next to me, in their allotted selections. My rehearsed speech, the one that Cassandra had written for me, felt lifeless and dull; I wasn't really good with words. Oddly enough, no one in District Thirteen stood to represent Jet, while a family of three mourned over Adia. Adia's mother wept onto her son's shoulder; her father stared at me with a look of disgust.

District Twelve was a quaint little District, encompassed by firm trees all around. Coal dust settled on just about everything, which I probably should have expected, along with the hopelessness that radiated from the place. They'd held a tiny little feast for me, probably more food than they would see in a weak, and I felt guilty the entire time; I told Mayor Wolfsbane to give my serving to someone who needed it upon being sat down. Afterwards, they brought me up onto the stage, the same stage that Rocky and Josh had been Reaped on, and I quietly read a prepared speech. While I hadn't been connected to either of them, an older girl from Rocky's family glared up at me with an air of hatred. A couple, probably Rocky's parents, was weeping openly as they clung to each other; no one was there to represent Josh.

District Eleven must have been the most beautiful place that I had ever laid eyes on. Blooming trees covered each and every part of it, the richest fruits that I had ever seen just waiting to be plucked. Surprisingly, the people here were extremely malnourished; I would have thought the agriculture District would be well fed. For their festivities, the people lead me out into a brilliant meadow, covered in flowers of each and every color imaginable. Traditional songs were sung, the words happy and bright, yet the voices sounded dull and lifeless; I didn't blame them. Instead of leading me to the stage, they had me read my speech right there, among flowers I hadn't even known existed. Stumbling through it, a small tear fell down my face; Persei's family appeared to be wonderful people. All of them were deeply grieving, clutching each other's hands tightly for support, yet they held their heads high; I don't know if I would have been able to do that if I were them. Once again, no one arrived to represent Tetra, the girl that I had killed; for some reason, the District didn't look angry at me, just sad that Persei hadn't been the one to win.

Impulsively, I added on to my usual speech, "Persei was a wonderful person…Full of life and happy, not to mention innocent…," my voice dimmed slightly in volume, thinking back to the dead boy, "he should have been the one standing before you…"

District Ten was extremely hot, leaving me to be thankful that my stylist had outfitted me in a short white sleeveless dress for this one. Various people wore cowboy hats, partnered with mud splattered boots and overalls, all things that I had thought were merely stereotypical for this District. Just like District Twelve did, they hosted a small feast for me, which mainly consisted of barbeque; probably the food that most of them ate, as their forms were strong and lean. Unlike the earlier Districts, they managed to contain their sadness better, even telling lame jokes to try and brighten the mood; it must have been my favorite so far. Afterwards, when I told my prepared speech, I almost felt shocked that Ether and Wednesday each had someone here to represent them; it hadn't been that way in the previous Districts. On Wednesday's side, two adults held their heads high, with only slight signs of remorse upon them; they were hardened souls. A kind looking girl wept silently, her features looking slightly familiar, and a young boy gazed on all of them with disgust, maybe even utter and complete hatred. On the flipside, a frail woman sat in a wheelchair, wearing a hospital gown as two little girls clung tightly to her; they didn't make any attempts to quiet their tears. The last person I looked at must have been Ether's father; he appeared to be tired if anything.

District Nine's heat had been apparent as well, making me grateful when they took me inside of the justice building for the celebration. People were dressed plainly here as well, similar to District Ten in fact, though they didn't force themselves to smile at all. Being the grain District, they presented me with a bag full of just that, with a little speech given by their Head Peacemaker, who evidently had come from District Two from his cheery attitude; afterwards, I'd given their gift back to the Mayor, saying the same thing I had to Mayor Wolfsbane earlier. I didn't need any more blood money; the Capitol had already seen to it that I had plenty. Representing Ebon, a little boy sat on the stage, dressed in frumpy and oversized clothes; they looked like they had been donated to him. Playing with a toy dinosaur, I hadn't been all too sure that he understood what was going on, while another boy, I think Cedar's brother, knew all too well. A couple of girls sobbed in the midst of the crowd, making me think that they must have been her friends; I was glad to leave this District.

District Eight was covered in smog, thick and heavy, from the fumes that their factories continued to churn out each minute. The festivities weren't original here, with yet another feast that I had to attend, and another round of guilt filling me up inside. Starving people were everywhere, people that deserved this food more than I did; for some reason, the Mayor wouldn't give my food to someone else this time. I suppose this meant that the Peacekeepers were prominent here, like in District Eleven, or that she had been a rule stickler. Pushing those thoughts out of my mind, I couldn't help but note that no one here glared at me, making it one of the more tolerable Districts on the tour; if it hadn't been for the stony silence from Willa's well dressed parents, it might have even been on my favorites lists. When I was about halfway through my speech, a brainy looking girl met her eyes with mine, and while I don't think she blamed me, that family member of Abe's hadn't been all too happy to see me here either.

District Seven could have only been described as picturesque. Not too far from the Justice Building must have been a river, as I could clearly hear the rushing water from it, sounding so serene; I would have liked to live here if I could. Evergreen and pine trees cover each surface, bringing no doubt in my mind that this was the lumber District; all of the people were fit as well, probably from learning how to use an axe at an incredibly young age. For the festivities here, some of the District kids performed capoeira, a type of dancing; I had a suspicion it taught the children how to fight as well. It's almost shocking how much I've come to detest the speech that I have to utter, especially knowing that the hardest District I'll have to face is coming up next. No one is there to represent Axel, though four people are standing in the section for Juniper. A petite girl is being held close by a strong man, doing her best to hold in the tears; she looks like Juniper's sister. While the father manages to hold in almost all signs of remorse, the mother has to wipe her eyes frequently, sniffling once or twice. Despite the beautiful scenery, sadness radiates off of a majority of them; Juniper may have been well liked here, or perhaps it had been for Axel.

District Five turns out to be my least favorite District, as glares follow me everywhere that I go. Elezar and Reina must have mattered a lot to them, I decide, especially since a large family eyes me angrily; they all wished that I would drop dead right now. These immense feelings of hatred are unsettling, making me yearn for the knife that I'd been forced to leave on the train; anyone of these people could be planning my demise right now. As of such, I don't eat any of the food that had been offered to me, out of guilt and a large suspicion that it had been poisoned by one of them. Rushing through the prepared speech, I have to tag on a little thing at the end about Reina, considering that I had been the one to take her life. A drunken man is the only one there to represent Reina, screaming out slurred accusations just about each minute; Peacekeepers end up restraining him. Lastly, the large family is there for Elezar, with all but one glaring at me; a tiny girl with dirty blonde hair stares at the ground, not able to produce anymore tears.

District Four is one of the prettier Districts, with a beautiful ocean enveloping most of it. Sandy beaches, boats, and swim docks are everywhere, accompanied with the stench of ozone and rotting fish; curiously enough, the combination actually smells good together. The celebration must have been the grandest one that I attended, as they took out to the beach, it must have been the best one since the citizens had looks of glee, and had a party. Food was served their, along with something on a stick that they called ice cream, and I only allowed myself to partake in the latter; people here didn't seem as poorly fed as other Districts. A smile tugs at my lips, when the younger citizens from Four squeal as the waves chase them up and down the sand; it seems like a pretty happy place. Of course, the entire time I felt pairs of eyes staring into my back, and upon inspection, it's a red headed girl. For a moment, panic seizes me, fearing that it's Leah, but I realize that this girl has blue eyes. Latter, I realize that she had been related to Nicolas, the boy that had been killed in my trap; if she goes into the Hunger Games, I hope my District's Tributes steer clear of her. Yet on the other hand, Fialla's family considerably lacks the cutthroat attitude, all of them staring sadly at me during the speech reading; it's a very awkward feeling.

District Three is covered in factories, just like District Five had been earlier, yet the smog here isn't nearly as heavy. However, the celebration isn't nearly as grand as it had been in the previous District, and the whole feasting idea is starting to get incredibly repetitive. Only because my stomach is grumbling painfully do I actually eat, sampling the oddly shaped rolls, and marveling slightly at how the taste differs from what I'm used to. From what I remember Cassandra telling me, this is because the grain in each of the Districts isn't the same, but I'm not too sure if I could trust her facts to be up to date. Upon thinking that, I feel horrible, but I'm not given time to dwell on it as they usher me onto the stage. Neither of these Tributes had been really connected to me, unless you count my proclaimed hatred of the Careers, but I can see a large portion of the citizens glaring forward at me. It takes me a moment to realize that they don't hate me; they hate that two of their own isn't coming home. Uttering the prepared speech once more, a peppy looking lady stands in Jitz's section and her baby bump is pretty evident. Gulping down the strangled cry of alert, I have to tell myself mentally that Willa is dead, that's not her, and that she can't hurt me before I can finish reading it. Sad looking, a man that might have been Jitz's father wraps his arm around the lady's shoulder. Turning my attention towards Malaya's family, three of them are completely blank looking, as if they didn't have a single care in the world towards their dead daughter. Frowning ever so slightly, I can tell that I'm not the only one frustrated with them; an older couple, along with Yohan Finaca, a Victor, are glancing distastefully towards the three every now and then.

District Two is very military like in appearance, especially when it came to their Tributes, so I was mildly taken aback when I saw their celebration. According to a Peacekeeper, they were having a disco themed party for me; that must have been why they were wearing such odd clothing to this. None of them particularly liked me, with Cassandra staying by my side most of the time, and a couple of Peacekeeper bodyguards; I felt thankful for their presence. A little boy, with a floppy hair cut and crumpled clothes, had been stalking me the entire time; I had a feeling that he had been there for Leah. But to make matters worse, a spiky haired girl had been putting him up to it, making sure that no matter wherever I went, the creepy kid would be following him. Part of me wondered if they were related, but as she had the same facial structure as Jackson, part of me thought that she had been his sister. Flickering back through the painful memories, I note that she had been the one Reaped; she hadn't been all too happy about not getting to compete afterwards. Resulting to dropping the fake grin, I didn't listen to Cassandra as she scolded me for it; all I wanted to do was get out of there.

District One, the luxury District; I couldn't but feel mildly relieved upon arriving here. People clapped and cheered politely upon my arrival, even though the looks in their eyes screamed bloody murder. Nothing very exciting had been selected for the festivities, just another part held in the square, with a live performance by one of the local bands; the words cashmere and griffin were used several times in their songs. It must have been a couple hours before the party finally wrapped up, with the grim prospect of delivering a speech to these people left as the only thing on my to-do list. If I had had it bad back in District Two, it was nothing compared to the way that they treated me in District One; probably because I had called their Tributes monsters on live television. Another example of why Cassandra had been the one to write my speeches, instead of myself; I might have sparked rebellion and not realize it until the President was executed. From Cashmere's family, five pretty girls look at me coldly, sad and infuriated that their sister hadn't been the one to return; I bit the inside of my cheek, causing the thin scab to break open, and the blood to slowly rush into my mouth again. Avoiding the vacant gazes of the parents, I turned my attention to the dolled up little girl and weary man from Griffin's family. Giggling and twirling, like the boy in District Nine hadn't understood earlier, I too doubted that she had any idea what had happened to Griffin either.

Eventually, they finally took me back to District Six. Upon arriving, my face broke out into a wide grin, seeing what they had prepared for our own celebration. Sometimes, whenever we had junk cars that the Capitol didn't want any more, and that we beyond repair, the Peacekeepers would turn them over to us. Pulling out the most capable drivers in the District, we'd hold an old fashioned drag race, with cotton candy available for purchase; my family had never been able to afford any of it before. After delivering my speech, which I changed up slightly for my District, they told me that I'd get to be driving one of the cars today; something that I'd always wanted to do since a little girl. Standing up on the stage, feelings of guilt didn't plague me that much, since I had already talked with Mr. Lisette. While he missed Cassius, he told me that as an old man he'd suffered through much, and that I shouldn't blame myself for being the one to come home alive. A bond had formed between the two of us because of that.

Wrapping up my speech, I looked down at the smiling faces, some of which were terrified of me still, but I think it wasn't as much as before, "I just wanted to say thank you…All of you mean a lot to me, as we're all from District Six, we're all connected…Next year, I'll do my hardest to bring one of you home again! I promise!"

At the applause from the audience, a small grin plastered itself on my face. Maybe one day, the nightmares would go away, but for now, the feelings of happiness I'd picked up from everyone else were doing the job. But that doesn't mean that I won't forget all of them, I promised myself that I wouldn't forget. If I did, then not only would they start to slip away completely from existence, but I'd be no better than them.

I had to be better than the Capitol, the true monsters in this world.


THE END!

Oh man, I can't believe that I'm actually flipping this story over to complete today! I want to thank each and every one of you who reviewed, followed, favorite, or even looked at this story; it really means a lot to me! I get such a feeling of joy each time I get a review about this story, especially when you guys tell me how much you like it! According to my math, we would have been over the 400 reviews mark! I never expected to get that many; I'm thrilled! Below, I'm going to put the final placing of the Tributes. I really hope you liked this ending, since I know that I certainly did, and I'll miss my star-crossed-musical-rebels (my nickname for the 175th Tributes).

1. Maya Eberhart, District Six

2. Leah Dagger, District Two

3. Persei Baxwoll, District Eleven

4. Jet Newton, District Thirteen

5. Adia Loya, District Thirteen

6. Elezar Brewen, District Five

7. Wednesday Vespers, District Ten

8. Jackson Leo Ross, District Two

9. Malaya Finaca, District Three

10. Griffin Holloway, District One

11. Tetra Comn, District Eleven

12. Axel Treefall, District Seven

13. Reina Vane, District Five

14. Juniper Griffin, District Seven

15. Willa Hellmans, District Eight

16. Fialla Howards, District Four

17. Cashmere Combe, District One

18. Nicolas Riddle, District Four

19. Cassius Lisette, District Six

20. Rocky Nightlock, District Twelve

21. Ether Lessing, District Ten

22. Ebon Furial, District Nine

23. Josh Quick, District Twelve

24. Jitz Low, District Three

25. Cedar Tremaine, District Nine

26. Abe Mercer, District Eight