Rora Caribe, age 18

District 6 Female

Being near all these Peacekeepers was making me uncomfortable. As I nervously glanced around, I couldn't help but wonder if one of them knew about me, paranoia building. Drug dealing is a dangerous business, even in District Six, where doing drugs was common. But it was worth it, at least for me. I've made a lot of money in that business.

As the mayor, our escort, Sicily, and our two victors, Siona Gyre and Bennett Hyundai, took the stage, I ran my fingertips over my hair, and cursed under my breath when I saw the shimmering black liquid. The ink I used to dye my vibrant red hair black hadn't quite dried yet. Hair dying was a tedious process; it had to be done in small parts at a time. Dark hair was much better for waiting in dark alleys. Even if you wore something that was the slightest bit bright, you never know who could see you, what could happen...

Stop it. You'll think yourself to death.

I knew I was overthinking it, but being a drug dealer came with the risks. My own parents didn't even know I sold drugs to people because I didn't want them to get in trouble because of me. They didn't deserve the treatment I was giving them, but it was for their own safety. And survival. Their jobs in the factories could only get a family so much with the little pay.

Sicily tapped on the microphone, sending a burst of feedback though the speakers. She blushed furiously, and quickly grabbed the microphone, trying to cover up her mistake with a breathy laugh. "Sorry!" she said, still blushing. "Why, that was embarrassing!" Another laugh. "Let's...chose our female tributes, okay?"

She wobbled over to the girl's reaping bowl, obviously not used to wearing the huge high heels she was in. She chose a slip, and walked precariously over to the microphone. "The first female tribute is Miss Rora Caribe!"

I froze in place, my heart beating out of my chest. Me? Why me? As I stepped out of the eighteen year old section, questions swam in my head. How would my parents get money? Would all the money I got from drug dealing be enough for them? I knew that even if I won, my clients would be upset, because I have left them hanging on the abyss of withdrawal. Why was I reaped?

Riley Glass, age 17

District 6 Female

I was barely paying attention to the reaping. How could I? Neither of my parents were here at the reaping, my mother bedridden and unable to speak because of some illness, and my father was with her, struggling to break out of his depression. It had been this way for about two months now, and everybody knew about it. Girls around me gave me sympathetic looks, but nobody ever offered to do anything to help. Most people didn't know what to do, how to deal with it.

Most people in this district aren't exactly "people persons." They're either thieves, or street rats, or druggies looking for another hit. Not me. Talking to people is my favorite thing to do. I could sit around and just have a meaningful conversation with somebody.

And the conversation didn't even have to be meaningful. It could just be gibberish, and I'd be content.

As I watched Sicily make her way across the stage again, I thought about my parents at home. My poor mother, who couldn't even say good morning to her children anymore because of her illness. She used to be bright and full of life. Even though it was only a few months ago, it felt like she's been immobile for years. I longed for her disease to be cured, even though I knew that, even if there was a cure, it would be too expensive for my family to afford.

That's it.

The sudden realization almost made me smile. I could volunteer. The victor always gets boatloads of money. I could save my mom and that would help my dad. My eyes searched for my older brother, Tom. How would be react? Probably not well. But that didn't matter.

So when Sicily unfolded the slip, I raised my hand and screamed, "I volunteer" before she could even read the name. I ran out of my section, and heard my brother yelling for me. Tom ran out of his own section, and collided with me.

"What are you doing?" he demanded, as the Peacekeepers started to take him back to his section.

"Saving our parents."

Bonnet "Nettie" Preacher, age 16

District 6 Female

The girl who just volunteered had a father who was in the depths of depression and a dying mother. That's probably why she volunteered. Her father was one of the regulars at The Broken Rail, the pub where I worked and lived with my little brother Braker. There was always a...varied assortment of customers who went to The Broken Rail. Rich and poor, male and female, addicts and survivors. Everybody.

I liked to think my mother went there before she had an affair with my father and Braker was born. My first few years were the best. It was just me, my mom, and my dad. We had a nice house, and we had money. There were countless weekends spent in Six's one park, and my parents actually got along. It was fantastic.

But everything went downhill from there. A strange man started coming over, and mother would yell at me. I remembered being scared because my mother never rose her voice with me. There would be creaks from my parents' room, and I would just hug my knees on my own bed, terrified at what was happening. When my dad found out - a little after Braker was born - he left, and the money started going, too. Then one morning, my mother didn't wake up. For months, Braker and I lived on the streets, until I found The Broken Rail and convinced the owner to let us stay there. We've lived there ever since, and I worked as a waitress.

I bounced a little on the balls of my feet. Sometimes, people mistook my jittery behavior as endless energy. The truth was that I was always nervous. Nervous of the reaping, nervous of being near people, nervous of starvation. I was so lost in thought, I bumped into another girl.

"Sorry," I muttered, and she wheeled on me, taking in my stick thin frame, pale skin, and greasy, matted hair. She turned away, a look of situation on her face. I knew what she was thinking, though. She thought I was a freak. Everybody does.

Sicily unfolded a third slip of paper. I stood, silent, waiting for the name, praying it wasn't me. "Bonnet Preacher!" Sicily called out.

There's something that happens when something happens that you don't want to. Natural human instinct sent out signals that caused panic. That panic overwhelmed me as I began moving through the sixteen year old section, all the girls parting around me, but I kept my face emotionless. I didn't want to appear weak to the other tributes.

I'd been the weak one my whole life. Time for a change.

Tessa "Tess" Lua, age 12

District 6 Female

Until last year, I had never understood why the people chosen to go to the Capitol were scared. I had always thought that they were special because they were picked to travel to the Capitol. My parents reinforced that idea in my mind.

That was my downfall.

For the first eleven years of my life, I never understood the Hunger Games. I never knew why the kids who went to the Capitol never came back. Why there were bouts of grief in the district. Why when Bennett Hyundai came back, there was a surge of food and happiness. I would ask my parents, but they wouldn't tell me anything until my eleventh birthday. They told me everything, and it terrified me.

The Capitol wouldn't kill district kids, would they? I didn't believe it. I refused to. But that accusation came true when I watched a rerun of the previous Games. Nightmares plagued me after watching that. What would happen if I was reaped? Visions of myself dying in the Games would keep me up at night. It was terrible.

Now, as I watched Sicily pick a fourth slip, my anxiety rose even more than normal. Chewing on my fingernails, I felt fear begin to prickle my stomach. What if it was me? It couldn't be. I only had one piece of paper in there. I would be fine.

Please not me. Please not me. Please, please please. I'll do anything.

"The fourth female tribute is Miss Tessa Lua!" Sicily said. Pure terror swept over me, and I screamed as loud as I possibly could. I ran out of my section towards the outer perimeter, looking for my parents. When I found them, my mother was sobbing, reaching for me as I ran to her. My dad was yelling for a volunteer, begging for somebody to save me.

Somebody put their hand on my shoulder. I screamed even louder as the Peacekeeper started to drag me towards the stage, towards my inevitable death. I struggled and cried and screamed for them to let go, but it was no use. Once they pulled me up the steps, one of the Peacekeepers stood behind me, holding my arms so that I couldn't run.

My worst nightmare was coming true.

Kailina Strom, age 17

District 6 Female

I hated the reaping. Absolutely despised it. The little girl Bawling her eyes out on the stage was a perfect example of why I should hate it. It was terrible. That little girl was only twelve. There was no way she could survive the Games. Yes, the reaping was a hated time for me.

But not Lilith. She loved it, every bit of it. The girl in my head who was my complete opposite and ruined my life. She was a ruthless bully, but the only person who would speak with me. In everybody else's eyes, I was a freak, a devil spawn, when I really wasn't. And eventually, my parents believed it too.

There had always been whispering about the Strom girl, who claimed there was somebody in her head. Always. And because I was an only child, it just made matters worse. There were no siblings for me to hide behind, nobody but Lilith. My own parents neglected me, feeding me stale bread and water and giving me clothes that were too small. Life was awful, but I kept on living, hoping that somebody would see me for who I really am.

It hasn't happened yet.

It never will, you stupid girl. Who would want to be friends with you?

"Stop, Lilith," I muttered, and a few kids near me gave me strange looks. I smiled, trying to look apologetic. They looked away, and one of them dropped something - a silver bracelet. Immediately, I stooped down, picked it up, and handed it back to her.

What are you doing? She was ungrateful a few minutes ago. Why are you helping her? I ignored Lilith the best I could.

I watched Sicily wobble over to the girl's reaping bowl and choose a fifth slip. Desire to help her walk in her heels flickered inside me, and I tried to dampen it. Lilith had told me hundreds of times: the Capitol wasn't worth sympathy. Nobody was. But I didn't believe that.

"Miss Kailina Strom, the fifth female tribute! Where are you?" Sicily asked, and I froze. The Games? I couldn't survive the Games!

This is will be fun! So many kids to kill, so much blood to be shed. Why are you scared? Oh, if only you understood, Lilith.

Roterra Quinn, age 16

District 6 Female

Blending into a crowd was what I did best. I knew I wasn't anything special, and I was okay with that. In fact, more than okay. Not everybody could stand out.

My mother always told me that even when life seemed bad, it could always get better. It was easy for her. She was a morphling addict for the first six years of my life, a very violent one, too. She would yell and get upset when she didn't get her morphling. The only reason she started rehab as one night she stabbed my father and he was still willing to help her. She changed completely, and now runs a diner out of our home.

My mother was such a success. I've seen customers come to the diner who have just given up, who are waiting for death to end their suffering. The thought that that could have happened to my mom scared me. She was so strong. I could never do anything like that. There was no way.

"I can't wait until this is over," my friend Sylvia whispered to me. I turned to her, a smile on my face.

"Me neither," I replied. "But there's only one more girl left. We should be fine." And I believed it. I had to. The only way to keep from falling into the clutches of depression - especially in this district - was to remain hopeful. Sylvia gave me a small smile, not quite looking me in the eye.

"Yeah," she said. "Yeah, we'll be okay."

I nodded, and turned back to the stage. Sicily was back at the microphone, unfolding the final female slip. The excitement from the conversation I'd just had faded away, nervousness replacing it. I had only taken out one tesserae. My odds were better than most other girls. I took a deep breath.

"Our final female tribute is Miss Roterra Quinn!" Sicily called. Sylvia went slack next to me, and I felt the breath catch in my throat. Then something else. As I started to go towards the aisle, the taste of bile filled my mouth. I pursed my lips, forced myself to swallow the vomit.

The walk to the stage seemed like an eternity. I knew there was no way I could win. But I had to try. People did insane things all the time. My mother went from an addict to a successful business owner. If she could do that, why couldn't I win the Games?

Hope you guys enjoyed that chapter. I struggled writing some of these characters, so I'm sorry if I messed your character up completely. Thanks to:

SilverflowerxRavenpaw for Rora,

CandleFire45 for Riley and Tess,

maddyodair for Nettie,

Fire'sCatching for Kailina,

and HoppsHungerfan for Roterra.

I hope I did them all justice! Chapter's song: New Romantics by Taylor Swift.

New poll on favorite D4 tribute. Other than that, nothing new. Until next time!