Warning: self-destructive thoughts in Marty's and child abuse in Samantha's.


Morty Sonym, District Twelve male (17)

Everything was gray in Twelve. The dust from the mines covered everything in a dusty mist. Everything I touched left my hands blackened. I felt it when I breathed. It coated my tongue, then clogged in my throat until I finally managed to get the tainted air into my lungs. Dust we came from. Dust we become.

I didn't know if I'd last another winter. Twelve was no place to be homeless. That was going to be the rest of my life, however long that might be. Nothing but scrounging through alleys looking for scraps that even the poor merchants of Twelve wouldn't eat. You wouldn't survive in this world if you couldn't take care of yourself. No one could take care of themselves in the winter.

It wasn't always like this. I'd always been poor but at least I'd had a family. We lived in a town where people took care of each other. No one had enough but somehow we all survived. So many things are decided by whims of fate. A single spark could change a thousand people's lives. My town was gone. My family was gone. I was left with nothing but a scarred and crippled body and the memories of what I'd lost.

The dumpster behind the bakery was never full. It was hardly ever not entirely empty. All I could hope to find in there was wax paper and cardboard. Yet still I searched. Call it hope, or call it starvation. I knew which one was more accurate. I sifted through greasy papers and oozing bits of wrapper and found nothing but a rusted metal bottom.

It was a floral shop where I found something. People who could afford to shop there wouldn't even imagine that there were other uses for things. They would see a slimy, half-rotted tulip bulb and wrinkle their noses as they dumped it in the garbage. The thought of it being food would never enter their mind. People like that looked at a flower and saw a few days of beauty. Someone like me looked at it and saw a few hours of life.

The tulip bulb lay uneaten in my hand. It looked like everything else in Twelve- pallid and slimy and covered in dust. Once I found it I just didn't have the heart. I didn't want to eat it. But the strange thing was that it wasn't the fact that it was a raw tulip bulb. I didn't want to eat anything. There was something sublime about starvation. It was like a siren song. I was empty inside- sublimely empty. Nothing in me but the feeling of my life leaking out of me. Eventually it would be gone entirely. I wouldn't have to live anymore. I could just be nothing.

That sounds like I just want to die, I thought. I didn't feel anything inside myself denying the thought. I might as well just die. I might as well just volunteer for the Games.


Samantha Von Hindenburg, District Twelve female (13)

Sometimes my mother got angry with me. Often I didn't even know what I did to make her mad. I just knew that like the flipping of a switch her eyes would go wide and her mouth would go harsh and she would do things. Sometimes I saw it coming and could hide in my room. Usually she wouldn't follow me in there. Sometimes she would.

This time I knew what it was. Mom couldn't often afford alcohol. I didn't know why she bought it when she could. It always made her so angry. She was like another person. She grabbed my collar and threw me against the wall. I curled up on the floor and held my arms above my head.

"I'm sorry, Mommy!" I wailed. I curled my knees in to protect my stomach as my mom drew back to kick me.

Mom grabbed me by my hair and dragged me into my room. She threw me across the floor and I tried to crawl away from her as she ran after me.

"I'm sorry I'm sorry!"

"Mommy, please!"

Something was wrong. Did Mom kill me? I was leaking out of myself. I was drifting away like my soul had gotten loose and was floating into the air. I could see myself on the ground. I could see Mom kicking and hitting me. I knew it was happening to me but I didn't feel anything. Maybe I'm dreaming. Nothing mattered. Nothing mattered at all. I didn't run from it.

I sat up in bed and stretched. I looked over at the calendar on the wall and frowned. My assistant must have come in and crossed off a few days. Otto liked to prank me. He'd crossed off three days, probably trying to convince me one of my experiments had worked.

Back to work, I suppose. I opened my notebook and bent over my scrawled notes. If I could get my device back in order I could teleport back to my proper time. It was strange being in this new world and country. It had its charms but I belonged in Germany.

Where even am I? One of my experiments must have gone very wrong. This looked like a little girl's room. It certainly didn't resemble a scientist's laboratory. And I was wearing a torn nightgown, which hardly made any sense. Clearly it was going to take a lot of tries before I made it back home. Sometimes I felt so close. I seemed to slip out of my body and I knew I was heading somewhere other than here. I started checking figures and writing down sums. I needed to finish my work and get my machine back in working order. A lot of the world didn't make sense but I knew one thing: I needed to get out of here.