Kellel Norton, 17

District 8 Male

I always imagined dying to be different.

I was there when my grandpa died. He was lying on the couch in my living room, just looking up at the ceiling. Every once in awhile, he would shout something random, and then fold back into his spot on the couch as we watched the life drain from him.

And then he passed.

It was weird. First, he's there, and he's yelling random obscenities, and then he's just not. What was once the man now became a shell, and there was nothing we could do to reverse it or change it back.

The thing that got me was, everyone, kept saying at least he went peacefully.

What does that mean, to die peacefully? Because I can't imagine my grandfather in his old age and failing body to be sitting on that couch being at peace with what was happening. Maybe it's just my age, but no one is peaceful when death is knocking at their door. It's why the Hunger Games works in the first place. Put a bunch of hungry dogs in a room; one is going to leave.

My seventeen years of life was not something I was prepared to have an early expiration with. I saw a future for myself. I was going to grow old, maybe hoe around for a little bit, settle down in my thirties, and start a family.

But real life has a way of stopping you dead in your tracks. Quite literally in my case.

I think the worst part is as a District kid; we didn't have a shot in the first place. Our best goal was to what? Be a floor manager in a factory? Scrape by on the skin of our teeth for the rest of our lives? I've seen how the Capitol lives. I've seen the luxuries that they hoard for themselves.

And the longer I've been here, the more I've realized that my indifference toward them has switched to hatred. I hate them for doing this to me. I hate them for doing it to the other tributes. I even hate them for allowing the careers to get their minds in this warped perception of this being an honor.

Dying for your District is not an honor.

Dying in a blood game is not an honor.

Dying because you're from the bottom of the barrel is not an honor.

I thought that my life would mean more, but this is what it boiled down to. In a few short hours, I will be rising on a platform into an arena, and the only thing that my family and friends can do is watch.

I bet Amelia is going to get a kick out of this.

I should have done more to be there for her. I am not a good friend, and I know that, but I won't pretend like she wasn't a walking cry for help. The literal poster child for don't do drugs and don't turn down daddy's money.

And instead of helping her, all I did was screw her.

A knock at my door startles me out of my trance as our District escort walks in. She is in a robe and has a face mask on. Her huge rollers are in her hair to get ready for the next morning, I presume. She crosses over to me and sits on my bed and smiles at me. "I just want to let you know that no matter what happens tomorrow, it's been an honor to be your District escort."

I'm weirded out by their sudden burst of humanity as she touches my shoulder and squeezes. "You're a good kid, and you need to know that."

She gets up and leaves without saying another word, and my head is spinning on what just happened.

"Did she just show up in your room too?"

Twine is standing in my doorway and walks in. She sits on the chair across from my bed and brings her knees up to her chest. "It was awkward. She's barely said three words to us, but suddenly she's honored to be our Escort?"

"Yeah, I wasn't feeling that either," I say, lying down on my bed.

"We're going to die tomorrow, aren't we?" Twine asks after a long pause.

"Probably," I tell her.

"Can I-" she begins to say. "Can I sleep in here with you? I don't want to be alone."

"Sure," I tell her as I scoot over to make room for her on the bed. She walks over and lays down next to me, and we face each other in silence. Tears well up in her eyes, and she reaches up and touches my face and kisses me.

"I don't know if that's inappropriate," she says. "I just never have kissed anyone, and I wanted to experience-"

I interrupt her by kissing her back.

Saiz Ardenes, 17

District 10 Female

I throw the lamp against the wall and watch it shatter into little shards.

I've been doing this since we got back into the suit from the party. The suite is a mess, and I've cut my hands several times, but with each broken piece of glass, I can at least pretend like I'm sticking it to the Capitol.

"Feel better yet?" Othniel asks me.

"No!" I scream as I run to the kitchen and start throwing plates. "These are ugly. Our Escort who didn't even bother to back to the suite tonight is ugly! The hunger games are ugly!"

I fall to my knees and weep as I throw the last plate onto the ground. Othniel comes over to me and gently grabs me by my upper arm. "Follow me."

I get up off the ground and quickly grab a napkin off the table to wipe my nose. Othniel leads me to the elevator, and when it opens up on our floor, he motions for me to get on. "Well, I didn't just press it for fun," he says as I step on with a chuckle.

"We're going to the roof," he says as he presses the button.

We ride the elevator in silence, and when the door opens up, he walks to the edge of the building and sits down.

"Aren't you scared of falling?" I ask him, standing far behind him and his reckless choice.

"If we are going to die in only a few hours, does it matter?" he asks me, looking up at the sky. "Come on, come sit with me."

I shakily climb up on edge, and like a clutz almost trip as I sit down on the ledge. Othniel braces me as steady myself, and then he looks back up at the sky.

"So this was illegal," he says. "But my grandma had a bible. Which is like a religious book, and when I was a kid, she used to tell me all about this guy named Jesus. How he loved me, and so he died for me, but then he came back."

"Like to life?" I ask him, confused. "Sounds weird to me."

"I guess it is," he says. "But my grandma always told me that whoever believed in him never really died. So since I was little, I'd say my prayers to this guy that I didn't know existed, and even now, it's something I do."

"That's beautiful, Othniel."

I look up at the sky, hoping to see whatever it is he's saying. As he talks, his face lights up full of hope. He looks at peace, and I hope that whatever is out there can give me that same peace because I'm falling apart.

"I am scared to, you know," he says as if reading my mind. "I'm scared because what my grandma said could be a load of lies. Or maybe dying is going to hurt. But for now, at this moment, I feel a peace that there's more than just this place, and no matter what happens, know that you've been truly a pleasure to get to know."

"I appreciate that," I say to him. "You have, as well."

We sit in silence, looking at the stars before I lean back and lower myself to the ground. I leave my legs hanging on the edge, and Othniel joins me after a minute.

"I don't want to die," I tell him. "I have so much that I want to do," I laugh to myself as I put my hands underneath my head. "You know the thing that I was most worried about before this? Prom. I wanted someone to ask me. I didn't even have anyone in mind," I tell him embarrassed. "I just wanted to feel like someone saw me and wanted to spend a monument night with me."

"What a monument night?" asks Othniel.

"A night where you remember for the rest of your life. Everyone can tell you the person they went to prom with. I wanted to be the girl that someone told their grandkids about one day when teaching them how to dance. I wanted to one day get married and maybe even have a baby. I also wanted a dog."

"A dog?" Othniel chuckles as he unhooks his legs from the ledge and turns to me.

"His name would have been Roscoe," I say, laughing. "Don't laugh at me. It's been a dream of mine since I was a little girl-"

We are interrupted by the sound of the elevator dings, and we both shoot up from where we are sitting.

"I think that is our cue to take the stairs," whispers Othniel as he helps me up, and we sprint to the stairs before being seen.

Cullen Harrison, 17

District 7 Male

"Okay, but you can't just invite two random people into the alliance without consulting us first," says Emerson as we take a step out onto the roof. Chrysanthemum and Djuvicko have yet to turn up, and the others were less than thrilled to hear about me inviting them to join us. "What are they going to add other than being another mouth to field, Cullen?"

Hazel touches my shoulder. "He did what he felt he had too."

"We know," says Spike as he grabs Emerson's arm and squeezes to calm her down. "We are all just a little worked up. It's a big day tomorrow, and we yet to have a plan, and now we don't even know who our allies are."

"They're our allies," I tell them. "He's twelve, and she's fourteen. We can't just leave the two youngest kids in these games to fend for themselves. That doesn't sit right with me."

The elevator dings again, and Chrysanthemum and Djuvicko walk onto the roof. Djuvicko smiles and waves at everyone and Emerson instantly softens upon seeing him. "Hello, everyone," says Djuvicko. "I know my name is a handful, so you can just call me D. This is Chrys."

We go around and introduce ourselves, and Emerson leads us over to the greenhouse on the roof. We walk into the glass dome, and we sit in a circle in the middle of the room. Everyone looks charged and like they have something to say, but no one wants to be the one to break the silence.

"We need a plan," I say, sticking a neck out for everyone else. I've never been able to be quiet. Part of it is the fact my scream is horrendously loud, and the other half has a lot to do with my personality. Silence leaves a lot of room for reflection, and when you're in the Hunger Games, you don't want that time. "Tomorrow is the big day, and we have to figure out how we are getting our alliance of six to safety during the bloodbath."

"What's there to talk about?" asks Chrys dismissively. "We run. There's no other option. Do you want to fight the girl from 2 after seeing her throw spears all week?" she pauses her question and looks around the room. "Or what about the girl from 1 and the boy from 2 who is always disappearing with each other. We need just to run. There's no time to try and grab anything. And to be frank, a piece of beef jerky is not worth my life."

"But we need supplies," says Spike. "Granted, not all six of us need to run for them, but we need to have something. If we don't have supplies, we won't just be fighting the careers. We will be fighting the elements."

"And with how the Capitol can control that stuff from inside the arena, I don't want to risk that," says Hazel looking apologetically at our new alliance members. "I think the best course of action would be.."

She trails off. If there were a newspaper, this would be the article of the year. Hazel Fowl left speechless when needing to give her opinion. She trails off and puts her head down. "I don't know what to do."

"I have an idea," I tell them.

"Well, don't be shy," says Emerson. "We are open to anything."

"We assign roles," I tell her. "Two of us will be in charge of grabbing food. Two of us will be in charge of grabbing water. And two of us will be in charge of getting the hell out of there to do the least amount of damage possible to the alliance."

"So we have four people risking their lives for supplies?" asks Chrysanthemum. "Yeah, I don't think that's very bright at all."

"No. It's not four people just risking their lives," says Spike to everyone. "It's two people staying together and watching the other's back as the chaos is going on in the arena. It's brilliant."

"So how do we decide who gets what?" asks Emerson

I get up from the circle and walk over to the flower beds. There is an assortment color of rocks scattered all around the flower bed. I grab four blue ones and two white ones and walk back to the group.

"Give me your shoe," I tell Hazel.

She looks at me weird but takes off her sneaker and hands it to me. I dump the rocks into the shoe and cover the hole with my hand and shake it around. "In this shoe are four blue rocks and two white ones. We will each draw a rock without looking from the shoe. If you draw a blue one, you're one of the people going to get supplies during the bloodbath. If you draw white, you get the hell out of there."

I stop shaking the shoe and look at Spike first. "Are you ready to draw? Close your eyes, and let's get this thing started."

Spike reaches his hand into her shoe and gulps as he pulls a single rock out of it.

Madison Parsons, 15

District 12 Female

A terrorizing scream wakes me up from my already shaky slumber. Darren was knocked out already when I got home, but I knew that he would probably wake up in the middle of the night doing this. He's done it every night since being in the Capitol.

"They drugged me!" he screams as our Escort tries to get him to sit down. "They drugged me because my brain isn't working right. They left me sleeping on the couch on my last night of life, and I don't even get to remember any of it! They drugged me."

"Can you help?" pleads our Escort. "I don't know what to do."

Not like I have to be up for a deathmatch in a few hours or anything.

I walk over to Darren, who has started to punch a pillow on the couch, and I grab his shoulders. Spinning him around, I shove him into the sofa, and he begins to weep as I squat down in front of him. "Darren, I need you to breathe."

"I've been breathing this whole time," he weeps as he puts his face in his hands. "I've been breathing in hopes that everything would just stop, but the more I breathed, the more real everything became, and I just need some fantasy. I just need to be not here."

This isn't fair. I'm a good person. I know that people talk about themselves in a good way all the time, but I truly am a good person. I give to the less fortunate than myself. I've volunteered for charities, and I always try to be a light in someone's life.

Every day in hopes that this would become a little bit better, I've smiled coming into the training arena. I smiled, coming into the living area of the suite.

And everyday life just kept pushing me down.

I thought that at least coming into this situation, I could be Madison Parsons, District 12 tribute, but life has even stolen that from me. I've been known as "That girl with the crazy District partner."

And now, it's two in the morning, and we have to be up at six, and instead of sleeping as I should be, I have to calm down my batshit crazy District partner.

Darren continues to take deep breaths as prompted by me, and eventually, he settles down, slouching low into the couch.

"You hate me, don't you?"

"I don't hate you," I lie, sitting next to him. "Besides, hate is a strong word."

"You don't like me, though. I've done nothing but make your life harder since we came into the Capitol. I didn't mean to."

"I know you didn't," I say as our Escort walks back into her room for the night.

Because you need all the rest you can get, right?

"I'm going to die tomorrow," Darren says matter of factly. "I'm going to die tomorrow, and that's the end of my story. That's Darren Memoria wrapped up into one big bow tie, but you," he says, looking at me and shaking his head. "You have potential! You can win this whole thing, and I don't even think you see it."

It's hard to take Darren seriously as he just had a mental breakdown. I don't know if I should be flattered because what he's saying is true, or if he's just trying to butter me up for something. Nonetheless, I appreciate hearing it. At least someone believes I can.

"See?" he says. "That right there is why I think you can win this," he says. "Your voice is quiet, but your head is loud. It's all over your face. You can think, and most people don't do that."

"Everyone thinks, Darren," I tell him, shrugging off his compliment.

"Yes, but not everyone is smart, Madison," he mocks. "Oddly enough, this is the first time I've felt normal all week. I don't know what they stuck me with, but at least I get to have some last-minute lucid memories before taking the nose dive into the ground."

"Don't sell yourself short, Darren," I say, tapping his thigh with my hand. "However, I have a bed calling my name. You should do the same. Rest is not going to be a thing in the arena I feel like. Don't know when your next peaceful sleep is coming."

Not that there is anything peaceful the night before you can lose everything.

It's weird coming to face your mortality. It feels like the night before Christmas, and your little mind can't stop racing about everything that's going to happen the next day. Except this isn't excitement, you're feeling. It's terror, and you're not getting presents and time with family in the morning.

It's you, your attacker, and the other end of the blade.

Welcome to the Hunger Games, Madison.

Twine Sanchez, 16

District 8 Female

"Put clothes on this very minute!"

Our Escort has sensed burst into Kellel's room and has found us guilty at the scene of the crime. She hurls my clothes at me and then stomps out of the room. "We are leaving for the games in 10 minutes. You better be ready."

"Last night was nice," I tell him quickly, getting out of bed and running to my room.

I throw on the black tracksuit with a giant white eight on it. We have a pair of black tennis shoes to match the suit, and that's the uniform for the arena this year. At least you'll be able to tell who we are when we die."

I rush out of the room, and Kellel pulls me to the side before we walk to the elevator that will be the beginning of the end for everything. "Are you okay?" he asks me. "I know that what we did people sometimes have emotional next days on their first time-"

"There's nothing to talk about, Kellel," I tell him. "We are young and about to die, and so we took our clothes off. The end."

I don't have time to think about him or to talk about feelings. We board the craft that leads to the arena in less than thirty minutes, and my mind has to be there.

I walk over to the elevator, and when it dings, two men in all black suits are standing in there with blindfolds. "It will be sometime before we get to the arena," they say as they wrap up my eyes. "We are going to dose you with a sedative that will keep you unconscious until we get to the arena."

They stick a needle into my neck, and I feel the world start to spin.

"Tributes, 10 minutes until launch."

I wake up on a couch in a brown room that looks like it's underground. My head is throbbing from whatever was put into me, but there is a pill on the arm of the couch with a note next to it that says, "take me." There is a clear tube that sits directly across from me, and it taunts me the longer I stare at it. I see the world start to spin again, but then I realize that it is just my body starting to tremble as I understand what is coming.

You're here in the Hunger Games.

"Can I get you anything like water?"

Another man in a black suit opens up my launch room door and appears with a cart. I nod my head, unable to form words as he reaches into the cart and puls out a bottle of water.

"You can't bring that in with you. Failure to comply will result in your platform detonating."

They're already prepared for your death. You're entirely expendable.

I used to think that the world was something that was beautiful and meant to be explored. Since coming into the Hunger Games, I realized that the world is none of those things. It's dark and twisted. People ruin what is supposed to be the experience of someone's life, and they don't even care.

"Understood?" asks the man pressing me to answer.

"Is this happening?" I manage to ask him. "Am I about to go into a fight to the death at sixteen years old?"

"I don't have time to answer silly questions, girl," he answers me harshly. "Are you understood that you cannot bring that bottled water into the arena.

"Oh my gosh," I say, covering my mouth. "Oh my gosh, this is real. I think I was waiting for an alarm, but one isn't coming, is it? Oh my gosh, I'm about to have to into the arena. How the fuck did this happen-"

"Do. You. Understand?!" asks the man annunciating each word in the sentence.

"Y-yes."

"Really wasn't that hard, was it?" he asks, closing my door to the launch room.

"Tributes," says the automated voice that woke me up. "Please step onto the launch pad."

The transparent tube opens, and I step inside. Once there, my knees give way, and I fall. I start to panic as I feel the floor rise, and see the light at the top of this tunnel as I get closer and closer to the death cage.

This is it. May the odds be ever in my favor.

We are at the bloodbath.

This is not a drill. I first want to say thank you to everyone reading. It's been a delight to write for you guys. I hope that everyone knows if your tribute dies, it's nothing personal. Some of my favorite tributes from this story are dying next chapter. It's just the plot that I came up with. Nothing personal.

Congratulations to Annabeth-TheTributeThatLived for winning the poll with her tribute Hazel. I'll PM you the prize. The poll is public on my profile now.

Bloodbath is coming at some point today. It might be late evening. New pokemon DLC comes out, and I have a dinner with my Sister in Law.

Thank you all. Hopefully, you'll still read even if the tribute dies.

I hope to hear from you soon,

Caleb