Chapter 15: Goodbyes aka last introduction chapter and final step into Pre-Games!

A small note: The lines written in italics are either thoughts of a tribute or an excerpt from their past.

I have lifted these tributes until the end because I think that they are very special and even if we do not live in Panem, they are very close to our lives today. Aramed with the heavy pressure to succeed on the shoulders, Ama with the discord between personal ambitions and the fear of not being enough. Thank you for these wonderful tributes, I appreciate them more than you think. Sit back now and enjoy the farewells of Ama and Aramed.

Ama Carter, 17, District 11 female, 10am reaping day

As the doors closed behind the peacekeeper, Ama couldn't help but laugh. The 17-year-old drove her way through her thick curls. What did she expect? Did she really think she was safe? In hindsight, it was just too ridiculous. Ama should have expected that her influence would not save her from the Hunger Games. All her work for nothing, everything she had done had been for nothing. It was so absurd that Ama couldn't help but laugh. Now she was sitting here, in a small room too fine for her death sentence. Ama had been given an hour to say goodbye to her family and friends. They would then drive to the county's train station to take their district partner and her to the Capitol.

The first visitors were her parents. With tears in her eyes, her mother pressed Ama, held her tightly and spoke comforting words with a broken voice. "You can do it, my daughter. Just be smarter than the others. I know you are," her mother whispered in her ear. Ama twisted her mouth to a narrow smile. Oh, mother, if only you knew that my intelligence brought me here. Playing with her now is my only option. 'I'm going to try everything to come back. I promise you, Momma," she said softly, then turned out of the hug to look at her father. Although her father was only in his early forties, he was seen as only one man who had worked in the fields of the District for most of his life. His eyes had fallen and tired as he looked at his daughter. He was tired of work, tired of the uncertainty and worried about whether he would ever see it again. Ama went to him. There was no hug, but two kisses on the cheeks. His daughter was strong, stronger than everyone else, at least he hoped so.

"Do you believe in me?" she asked, her dark eyes flashing out under her wild curls. Her mother had always believed in her and supported her, Ama knew that, but her father was a doubter. He questioned her actions, her words and her values. When she asked him, what was more important in life, happiness or hope, he said that these things were not important as long as you didn't have to starve. Ama could be happy, hopeful, but only if she worked for it. So, she worked. Every day after school, she went to the fields for a few hours, swung the scythe to be happy in the evening. Happiness in District 11 did not mean personal happiness, but not starvation. As she got older, she finally understood what needed to be done not only to have enough food, but also to be satisfied. Ama learned how to deal with people, how she agreed with them, even if she didn't believe in them. This ability was the only thing that would save her from death.

"You made it to here. If you don't start playing now, the others have won a long time ago," her father said, pulling her still-crying mother to the exit. Ama opened her mouth to answer when the door was already falling into the castle. She asked her question not to her wise father, but to herself. Am I good enough in this sick game?

For a few minutes it was quiet. Ama heard her thoughts spillover and beg for attention. She sat on the noble sofa, which did not fit in a grey place like District 11. Her fingers gently stroked over the green velvet fabric. The small gesture calmed her down eerily. The door was reopened. A young man dressed in far too expensive clothes for the occasion appeared. He did not wait for the peacekeepers to teach him what to do or leave. As the mayor's son, he knew how to do it.

"Ama, my lotus blossom, I'm sorry, how can I help you?" he asked, kissing her hand like in one of the fairy tales of her childhood. She smiled at her boyfriend and tried to cry to keep the appearance that this farewell took her emotionally. Ama didn't care what he wanted. The only thing that mattered now was that she had a plan. She was too young to die in a dirty arena. She gently pressed his hands, in which he held hers, and carefully pulled on the thick silver ring. Confused, her boyfriend looked at her. "I need a token, don't I? What would be better suited than this ring? Doesn't it symbolize our happiness, our love?" she asked with innocent eyes and a sinister laugh in her head. Even now that her life was on the precipice, Ama wanted to play. She wanted to take his wealth away from her stupid, influential friend in order to keep him. Insane, vicious she was called. These people were right, Ama thought and pulled the ring off his finger.

"Let me keep it," she whispered, looking him in the eye. He nodded quietly and closed the lids to receive one last kiss. Ama covered her mouth to a confident smile. She would grant him his last wish. He got one last kiss from her. Hopefully, he goes to hell after that. He had a job and yet I'm sitting here now. Ama felt nothing when she touched his lips. They had to be cold, tough and relentless. This relationship had been a waste of time. She thought, when she was bonding with the mayor's son, that she was safe from the Capitol. I was a stupid little girl. Never, never again I will make this mistake.

All she had to do now was play for her life. Ama knew she had to win over sponsors to have a hint of a chance. Her gaze fell on the boy kneeling in front of her. Maybe he could be useful to her once?

"Darling?" she asked with a firm voice. He looked up quickly and waited for an order from her. Like a stray street bait. "You want to help me, right? Can you then try to raise enough donations for me to get at least one sponsorship gift in the arena?"

His answer was a nod. Then the door opened again. The peacekeeper who escorted her here was ready. 'I have to ask them to leave now. The tribute of District 11 will be taken to the station," his firm voice roared through the tinted visor of his helmet. Ama got up and pressed the boy's hand one last time. "Remember to collect donations for me. Without me, this place would be boring," she said softly, then walked out of the room, ready to play her life.

Play their game and win or die.

Aramed Cretonne, 13, District 8 male, 11am reaping day

Aramed could not say whether his parents were sad or not.

They sat next to him on the upholstered sofa, but they didn't cry. Weren't his parents obliged to cry? Eventually, her son would go to the Hunger Games and die there. The small copper coin in his hand was heavy.

"Mum, Dad? Do you think dying hurts?" whispered Aramed. Normally, the 13-year-old wasn't sentimental. He was educated to discipline and ambition. Emotions were secondary to his parents. For them, only success counted. The best grade in math, the youngest student speaker of his school, were successes in the eyes of his parents. His mother smelled of warm honey milk when she approached him.

"Look at me, Aramed. You're not going to die," she said, and as much as his mother tried to give him hope, Aramed didn't believe it. He knew he was going to die. From the moment his name was proclaimed, he wondered how it would end. Would a mutation tear it to pieces? Or would he be stabbed with a knife? Aramed didn't know and that scared him. He had been able to prepare for every ordeal in his life. For hours he had memorized things, sure that the result would be satisfying. But Aramed had never been able to prepare for the Hunger Games and death. He had been thrown into cold water. Although it was cold in the room, the sweat flowed hot over his back. He didn't like to admit that he was scared.

"Aramed, there's nothing you should be afraid of," his father tried to reassure him. Liar! We are both afraid, try not to deny this fact!, his thoughts screamed at him. Aramed shrugged. He had resigned himself to die young. You didn't have to fool him anymore. When he looked into his father's steel-grey eyes, Aramed knew he was right. His father was scared, his mother was scared and he was a damn scared. The boy turned his gaze away from his father and let him wander through the room. Through the high windows, bright light penetrated the small room. It made it look bigger. The walls were decorated with a blood-red wallpaper. What an irony to make the farewell room for a tribute in this color. On the dark parquet floor there were some furniture, some were covered with large varnishes. If this were my room, I would love it here. He would put bookshelves on the high walls, and he would push the bed into the left corner.

"Thank you," he said softly, but still so loudly that his parents could understand him. Detached from her fear, his mother hugged him. Aramed couldn't help but hug her back. Perhaps his parents didn't show him every day that they loved him, but in the moments when cohesion mattered, he could count on them. His father swiped his black hair and dissolved his carefully made hairstyle. His mother slowly let him go but looked at him with tears in his eyes. "My little darling, I'm sure you should try. You're smart and disciplined, remember. We love you..," she muttered. Aramed just nodded, his throat too dry to answer.

They love you. They miss you. Rejoice in it!, shouted his thoughts to him. He smiled at them kindly. Aramed did not notice the tears on his cheeks until they were wiped away by his father. A knock on the door announced that his time with his parents had expired. The friendly peacekeeper, who had taken the blood from him earlier, stepped in. She had taken off her helmet and her hazel-brown eyes were shining on the family.

"I know it's hard to say goodbye, but I have to ask you to leave now. Her son has another visitor," she said. Aramed smiled at his parents again, before they got up and left the room crying. The peacekeeper looked at him smiling. She quickly turned her head towards the door and closed it. The woman approached him.

"You really don't have to be afraid. The first impression counts for most sponsors. On stage, you did a great job. I'm sure others weren't as brave as you were. Actually, we are not allowed to bet at all, but I would bet on you. Good luck!" she said to him. Aramed couldn't even say it was a bad idea to bet on him. The peacekeeper laughed quietly, then the door was opened. A grim man had grabbed his brother tightly by the arm. Angry, he sparkled at the woman. The laughter had just passed. 'I thought it was a bad idea to put you in the reaping, Cresson. Get out with you, Woof wants to talk to you', the other peacekeeper snorted at the woman, who immediately walked away from the room. Then he turned to Aramed. He pointed to his brother. 'The little one said that he knows you. Is that true?'

"He's my brother," Aramed said quickly. He was afraid that the peacekeeper would break Kevin's arm in the way he held Kevin. The grim man pushed Kevin away from himself without emotion. 'You've got five minutes, then you're going to the train station', he murmured, walking out of the room. His brother patted himself on the shoulder. With a cheeky grin, he looked at Aramed.

'You probably didn't think you were going to the Capitol without saying goodbye? Come on, little one', his brother said, pulling Aramed into a hug that almost broke his spine. He hadn't seen Kevin in a few weeks. His brother had chosen not to take his parents' path. After the tenth grade, he had left school like most of the district's children to work in one of the many factories.

'You know, I'm more of a practical guy', Kevin said, patting his little brother on the shoulder. The two boys could not be more different. Kevin, who resembled his mother with red hair and brown eyes down to the last detail, next to Aramed, who was the younger smaller version of his father. Black stranded hair, thin but not emaciated and grey eyes that always looked like a rainy day. His mother stood with narrow lips in the narrow kitchen and cut some carrots small. She disliked the idea as much as her husband that her elder did not want to live the life that they did not have. All they wanted was that their sons never had to go to bed with an empty stomach. But Kevin had decided against it. They had to live with the decision whether they liked it or not. Their hopes now lay on the fragile shoulders of their younger son, who was disciplined and wise. He would do great in future.

'I will miss you. You can do it. Remember, with discipline and order everything succeeds', Kevin smiled. Aramed playfully slapped his brother on the arm. Discipline and order were their parents' favorite words. Every day they used them about 4 times.

'True, I know that it's my best chance', Aramed said. Deep down, he knew that his brother's joke was really his only hope. At the age of 13, no one would want him as an ally; So, he would have to make himself one of the best. Discipline and order whispered his inner voice. The door opened squeaking.

The grim man waved Kevin out with a clear hand gesture. 'Time has run out, we're going to take you to the station now, tribute,' the peacekeeper said. Aramed swallowed. Now he was no longer a hard-working schoolboy, but a tribute.

We finally made it into the Pre-Games Section! Every tribute got a PoV by now and will receive two more until the Arena. Additionally, I wanted to use this announcement to tell the submitters that I really would like to hear your opinion on the story by now and how you like each character. You don't have to review if you don't want to, but I'm very interested in your opinions!

Quick reminder, these are the tributes:

District 1:

Male: Wayne Thompson by wiifan2002

Female: Lucretia Aurum by RakTurtle

District 2:

Male: Nolan Rhodes by wiifan2002

Female: Diana Lane by ladyqueerfoot

District 3:

Male: Hal Prescott by ladyqueerfoot

Female: Dimona Summa by 20

District 4:

Male: Fen Orta by dirtwolf

Female: Shasta Vengari by dirtwolf

District 5:

Male: Solomon Canterra by Marie464

Female: Alisha Crowney by cartierscrown

District 6:

Male: Rolan Joralemon by BradiLain

Female: Brea Greensdale by Marie464

District 7:

Male: Paul Barrows by LadyCordeliaStuart

Female: Ivy Barker by Pacecca

District 8:

Male: Aramed Cretonne by Joseph

Female: Anya Hanzar by MoonlightSalsa

District 9:

Male: Ceren Dolan by TheRaichuinRavenclaw

Female: Amber Henthrow by TheRaichuinRavenclaw

District 10:

Male: Jeddison Ranger by Joseph

Female: Horizon Havenfirth by Phoenixure

District 11:

Male: Qantuta Hutchinson by Phoenixure

Female: Ama Carter by Axe Smelling God

District 12:

Male: Conan Bruce by Sparky She-Damon (I will continue the story with the name Conan because I think its easier for everyone not to change the name now)

Female: Misty Boulevard by sherazede96