Author's Note

I do not own the Hunger Games.

I could really use some submissions! Please go ahead and submit some characters! Details and spots are on my profile. A lot of the closed spots are bloodbaths, so if you want a spot that isn't listed, PM me!

WARNING: This chapter contains swearing and violence.


She was fourteen when their father raised his hand to her. The house was old, filthy and ill kept, and she tripped as she picked her way through the hall in the dark, knocking into him and spilling his precious beer.

He roared. "Look what you've done you little bitch!"

"Was it that important?" she asked.

He smacked her. She was lithe and fit, but he was still a large, bulky man and the blow knocked her over.

"I should have beaten some fucking respect into you years ago!"

She sprang to her feet – and he hit her again. She snarled, skittering aside, as he hurled abuse at her and rained down clumsy blows in her general direction. He managed to seize a handful of her long hair, and she sunk her teeth deep into his wrist. He yelled and backhanded her again, knocking her against the wall. She tasted copper on her tongue.

There was a roar from where he'd been in the bathroom behind her and then he slammed into their father with a crack, throwing them both to the ground. He was big, even at fifteen, and the two grappled on the floor. Black rage and righteous fury gave him the strength advantage over the drunkard, and he attacked with fists and feet, snapping his teeth, snarling.

She only watched as he brought his elbow down on their father's head and throat until he stopped making noise, then brought his fists down again and again and again, fuelled by years of pent up anger and wildness. Blood splattered across the wall and floor. The man's face was a mangled lump of flesh, his neck at a crooked, wrong angle, his hand bloodstained.

He stood. There was blood smeared up his arms and splattered across his face, caught in his dark hair. He could taste it on his lips, his tongue.

The two of them stared at the body.

It was very, very dead.

He took her arm. "Come on."


They packed clothes, food, iodine, their slingshots, and fled for the fields and woodland they knew. It was cold, but better than the house. Maybe they could follow the coyotes.