Chapter Four.

Pre-Reapings, Part Two.

Phobos Arroyo, 18 years old;
Sector Three Male.

For the first time in a very long time, Phobos had been given the entire day to relax outdoors.

He wasn't entirely sure what one did when they relaxed, or if there were rules he was supposed to follow, but he actually liked the sun kissing his skin with its warmth. The gentle breeze against his face. The people flitting on past, so many different faces and personalities and ticks and tricks and everything in-between. Phobos looked at them all. Silent, away from them, tucked into the corner of the park.

Maybe this is what relaxing is? Phobos didn't mind it. There were definitely plenty of other things he'd prefer doing: perfecting the skills he'd honed over the years, preparing his speech in the mirror for when he usurped the position of whichever fancy-pants, Academy-chosen volunteer took to the stage; basically anything that was Hunger Games driven.

Phobos didn't really care what people thought of him. When they heard the Arroyo name, his parents had always said people would sneer down at Phobos purely because of the Games-centric family they were. In Two, usually that wouldn't have been a bad thing. Most people were twisted into Hunger Games fanatics. But the Arroyos took it even further and the whispers had started since he was a young boy.

Phobos was an outcast but he didn't care. People were only good for one thing. Being liked was not one of them.

He continued to watch as two elder men walked hand-in-hand past him, settling on a bench not too far from where Phobos continued to base himself. Though their conversation was hushed, Phobos could pick up plenty by the expressions one of them wore, the harder-than-normal squeeze of the knee that the brunette inflicted upon the blonde, and the slight tremble in said blonde's back.

Abuse, Phobos immediately concluded. Sucks to suck.

He felt pride over the fact that he'd spotted it in seconds. Not guilt that it existed, or sympathy, or hatred for the abuser, or anything. Just pride in the fact that he'd found what sort of relaxing he enjoyed doing. And that he was still able to see people for what they really were when stripped back.

Phobos didn't mind what people thought of him because he knew he was just them underneath all the falsity and pretence. When pretenders peeled back the layers, everyone was Phobos deep down.

In Two, anyway.

They could tell themselves otherwise all they liked. To train to kill took a special type of sicko. Phobos just knew who he was and embraced it.

"So anyway, Dest' said that we were—"

Phobos' pride immediately splintered in the wake of a trio of scantily-clad girls that were edging closer and closer to where he sat, choosing the bench on the other side of him to settle. Phobos immediately leaned further back to get a better look at them and watched with mild curiosity as the three continued to yapper away.

He was sure that to most people these girls were dense and annoying. But to Phobos he didn't really feel much. He never felt much of anything towards people really. They were all fascinating in their own little way.

"—can you honestly believe they chose Shireen? Shireen?! She's not even pretty."

"How can you have an ugly volunteer? What are we – District Four?"

"I've heard from some of the boys that she smells like she comes from Four. If you know what I mean."

The girls broke out into hysterics and Phobos arched an eyebrow. If they trained at the official Academy within their Sector lines then it meant they held some sort of skill. Phobos had heard from his parents who refused to send him there but trained him anyway that they rejected anyone that didn't pass the entry examination.

So, they possess some sort of skill. Colour me surprised. He pictured fighting them and wondered what they would look like dead on the ground. His sword in their gut. The others maybe crying over their friend's corpse. For a moment, he felt a flicker of joy, and knew that it was simply a part of his conditioning into being the Phobos he had always been made to be.

Whether it was right or wrong, he didn't know and didn't particularly care. He was going into the Games and in a week's time would actually be in the Arena where he'd kill quite happily and live out the life he'd been reared to be a part of. No one could blame him for thinking, acting, talking, listening and behaving in the way that he was supposed to.

If he knew nothing different, then what was the point in pointing fingers?

Time continued to spiral past Phobos and he found himself slowly starting to grow restless. Sitting down and relaxing, watching all shades of people waltz through the central park, was slowly getting to him. Relaxing was only good for so long and because of where he was going tomorrow, he'd been allocated some time to himself.

He was grateful, but slowly that ability to feel gratefulness was slipping into the way Phobos usually felt. And that was nothing. He simply wanted to go home and slide back into a sense of familiarity. At least at home, in the face of the parents that hated him, yet continued to rear him to be their trophy, he understood what to expect. He knew the ins and outs. The rules to follow.

And which he could break.

Phobos stood up from the bench and the girls all snapped to his attention, staring at him in disgust, and Phobos just returned the gaze with blank eyes.

"What the hell are you looking at?"

Phobos shrugged. "You. Like you are looking at me."

"Creep."

"Okay," Phobos said, with another shrug.

"Get the hell away from us."

"Okay."

Phobos walked away and didn't pay any attention to whatever was said behind his back. He didn't care nor did he spend a second worrying anyway. One day they'd go through hell of some kind – misery, pain, maybe even death, and Phobos found some slight pleasure in that idea. Not because he disliked them, not because of anything really other than that was just what the world was like and it was the world Phobos was a part of.

In his own little slither of what Two had to offer for him, Phobos had found his niche and knew tomorrow everything would finally make sense. Wrapped up in a neat little bow, Phobos would accomplish what he had always been set out to do.

But what about afterwards?

He'd never thought about what came post-Hunger Games and for a moment his mind froze. But then with a shrug, a cloud drifted through his mind and all secondary emotion became background noise and he continued forwards.

Phobos was good for one thing and the world would soon see that.

He couldn't wait.

Kasiani Tavarro, 18 years old;
Sector Five Female.

Scents of freshly baked bread, grilled and sizzling meats and desserts ranging from succulent fruits to cakes and cheese boards wafted through from the kitchen.

Even after working in the restaurant for years, Kasiani still relished walking by the open-kitchen to ring the bell, type orders into the till or collect customers their change. It was the best part of the restaurant, but it also made Kasiani hungry, and when she glanced over at the clock, her next break wasn't for another hour or so.

Ugh, she inwardly groaned, but on the outside, Kasiani continued to wear her huge smile. It wasn't just a by-product of working in customer service – although it had been incredibly beneficial being able to lather it on just a little bit more – but it was simply Kasiani's smile. Her trademark.

"Kasiani! Table seven has been waiting three minutes."

She heard her mother screaming from right behind her ear and flipped her gaze over her shoulder. "Yes, thank you for that – wanna scream into this ear too and even things out?"

Her mother glared at her youngest daughter and rolled her eyes. "Just get to it. We're busier than usual."

Kasiani loved the atmosphere not just in the Tavarro restaurant but everywhere so far. It was still taking some used to that her neighbourhood had been split right down the middle with the Sectors – her best friend now residing in Sector Six – but it had brought with it a level of excitement that Kasiani hadn't seen in Two in a long time.

If anything, the Games had started to become stagnant. Two were good. Very good. But that was also a bit of a yawn. Now – Two had a new drive. It wasn't just about being the best out of a bunch of randomers around Panem, but the best in a District that thrived on being perfect.

And Kasiani was one of them!

Her smile could have beaten the sun in its radiance as she replayed her Head Trainer announcing Kasiani as the chosen volunteer. She hadn't yet told her parents the good news. They'd be horrified. She'd save it for later – when it was too late. When they didn't make her feel like the shit in the toilet deserved a higher ranking in the Tavarro family.

She jumped in front of table seven and smiled at the trio of teenagers, in the middle of a conversation that they quickly brought to a close at her arrival. One of them looked a little bit sombre, something which Kasiani had learnt over the years could be helped by one of two ways – either letting them be sad, because there was nothing wrong with being sad, or smiling just that little bit more to cheer them up. People thought she was dumb because she enjoyed having a bit of a chat. But she'd seen so many faces and types of people in this restaurant that it was almost a sort of training in its own.

When she was with everyone else in the Capitol, she expected to see a multitude of personalities that she'd already, in some smaller way, come into contact with. Everyone fit into little boxes that Kasiani was slowly starting to understand a bit more. People were unique, for sure. But also readable. And being a waitress lent itself to reading them page by page.

She met the eyes of the sad looking boy and grinned at him. "What can I get for you, sir?" Sometimes they loved being called sir – it made them feel special. "We've got an excellent Reaping day offer on at the moment. The items on the back are 2-4-1 or you can get a sharing board for half price."

"It's not Reaping day, though?" the kid said, arching an eyebrow.

Kasiani laughed. "Must have forgotten what day it is. Busy, busy, busy. That's me."

He grinned and Kasiani felt all the better for it. "I could eat a horse. I'll have a sharing board all to myself."

Been there, done that.

She noted it down on her pad and as the other two shared a look of shock, then laughed, and placed their own orders, Kasiani thanked them and skipped back to the kitchen to register the order and almost bumped straight into the smarmy, good-for-absolutely-fucking-everything, irritating to look at face of her elder sister.

"Elissa," Kasiani said, the smile now on her face feeling forced, though it only grew because she couldn't be bothered to deal with the fallout of looking as miserable as she suddenly felt in her sister's presence. "What a delight. A revelation some might say."

Elissa Tavarro placed her Peacekeeper helmet on the table and leered down at her younger sister. "Kasi'. It's been a while."

"How's it going at work?"

Elissa loved to talk about what she did and Kasiani knew it. At least it wasted some time off her shift – she was sweltering in this heat and as much as she loved her customers, some of them didn't seem to understand that she didn't have five hands and couldn't carry everything in one go. The back and forth was getting to her knees.

"Oh, you know how it is," Elissa began, her eyes staring above Kasiani, not bothering to make eye contact. "We've had some shipments of weapons recently up in the Nut because of some insurgence going on. Nothing major. Just the usual minor upset."

"Someone trying to bust your nut, huh?"

Kasiani snorted as Elissa's cheeks went red. Not from embarrassment, but more from anger. Elissa was so quick to turn into a silly, quivering mess of hostility. How she had the temperament of a Peacekeeper, an actual law official, was beyond Kasiani. Although she supposed it wasn't very surprising – most people who kept the peace seemed unable to comprehend what keeping the peace actually meant in the first place.

"That's completely immature."

Kasiani shrugged her shoulders at the sound of the bell dinging. "I thought it was funny. Oh well."

Before her parents could come out and lather on praise, suffocating Kasiani underneath wave after wave of it, she bid Elissa a fond farewell with a dramatic hair-flip and picked up the plates for another table of customers.

As she weaved in and out between tables, Kasiani felt it, a horrible niggling feeling in her stomach, and tried to smother it down. The worst part about being a part-time waitress in this restaurant, the Tavarro restaurant, was being in the shadow of her Peacekeeper sister.

Because Kasiani was just a waitress. Elissa was a Peacekeeper.

In her parents' eyes, they were worlds apart.

She knew it was a stupid reason, training because it had been something her sister had failed at, her own way of becoming better at the only thing that Kasiani had ever felt remotely successful in over her brilliant sister, but it was just the way that Kasiani had believed she could shine for once.

Underneath her smiles, she felt those thoughts teetering on the edge, and she forced them out. Out of mind, out of whatever the saying is. She didn't care for those thoughts and instead, as ever, placed the plates on the table, beamed at the customers, and broke out into lovely small-talk.

Tomorrow, Kasiani would prove herself to herself. More than just to her family, but this was because she had to show herself she was capable. That she could do this. That she wasn't just a waitress.

For once in her life, she was good at something.

Right now – that made her the happiest she'd ever felt. And for that small slither of happiness, Kasiani was willing to risk it all.

Juliet Romero, 18 years old;
Sector Nine Male.

There were plenty of people in the diamond-cut side of District Two that would have looked down at the scene in front of Juliet. Squalor and dirt, moss clinging to jagged drainpipes where garbage was heaped in discarded piles. Behind a broken wood plank, Juliet watched as people shifted in and out of the shadows, hands tucked in jacket pockets, packages being traded to and fro.

Amongst it all, Juliet saw the green. If all that green had a smell, it would be of the perfume of the hottest girl around, the tastiest cake, the scent of success. Even looking at it made Juliet feel content amongst the disgrace of his surroundings.

"Move that over there," Juliet said, pointing to a tinier boy his age, ratty beanie and trench coat around his body. He looked like a walking cliché for where Juliet found himself. He'd come to spot and see everyone for who they were and what they provided. He wasn't one to overlook. "How's it looking, by the way?"

"Meh, not bad," the kid shrugged, "could be better. Sector lines have put a bit of a dampener on the deals. Not much money going between because of all the ramped-up security."

Juliet smiled at his colleague but inside he felt his gut twisted in silent anger. The charade of this Quell was weighing heavy on Juliet's life in the shadows. Not only did the Games usually bring about an annoying presence of law enforcement, but drawing up the sectors they now found themselves forced into had made shifting goods all the more difficult.

Juliet usually prided himself on the challenge, but he also knew when the fuck to get out of dodge. At the moment, he was teetering on the line between the two options.

"I hear the boss is coming today."

Juliet's ears perked up at the statement. He enjoyed dealing with the people that were higher up the food chain. It brought out the side of Juliet that meant he had to work his image. Sometimes it became all too easy to lather it on thick for those that had more air between their ears than anything else. But those with matched intelligence made the game all the more intriguing.

"He might not be all that happy with the way things are going," Juliet stated, watching as the Merlot twins sauntered through into the raggedy building, the bulges in their jackets remarkably large for such slim pickings this time of the year. "But he's a generous guy. I'm sure I can reassure him things will be fine."

"I dunno about that. Word on the street is he's gunning for blood. A run gone bad."

Shit. Juliet had no idea about any run going bad. Usually, if Juliet was a part of anything that looked remotely close to going sour, he was able to weave his way out of trouble. The world was a shit place but it was exactly what you made of it. Juliet didn't pretend to be part of anything good in this system but he wasn't going to judge people for the crueller things they did in life. A shit world bred shit people. It was just the way it went.

But a bad run spelt trouble. Juliet's thought went racing through a multitude of different scenarios and right now, even though he was nowhere near top-dog, in the small crowd he found himself in, he was suddenly in a position of power that was usually unknown to Juliet. Fuck. I better get my story together.

"Oh well," Juliet said with a sly smile, "off with your head."

The boy paled and Juliet shook his head laughing. As he started to stammer and trip over his tongue, for the sake of his own image, more than any sort of guilt he felt, Juliet placed a calm hand on the boy's quivering shoulder. He was a strong runner, but weak of mind. He hadn't quite understood what this sort of life did to a person. The reality usually came hard and fast to those sort of people.

"It's okay bud," Juliet soothed. "I'll sort something. Don't sweat it."

As he tried to piece together a story, half of Juliet already knew what his legs would do. He'd leave. Not run because running looked suspicious. But his elder brothers were out there somewhere, always up to something, and Juliet knew they'd be on some kind of job he could wing his way onto. For the sake of all the green, Juliet could say. Something that would weave him out of harm's way.

The kid in front of him was good but a rookie. And Juliet wasn't about to walk into gunfire for some kid that looked caught in the headlights.

Juliet continued to smile at the boy but there was a rush of footsteps and his instincts immediately kicked in, the grin falling to be replaced by gritted teeth and a narrowed eye, legs already prepared for flight as someone came splashing through the murky puddles and into the open alley-way.

"Juliet."

The way Argus Romero said his younger brother's name was all Juliet needed to know.

"When?" Juliet said, his mind starting to panic, but for his external image he tried to keep his cool. "Who?"

"I don't know but you have to go. Use the west safehouse. Andel is waiting for you."

Good ol' big bro, always looking out for me. He respected his elder brothers. He liked them. Probably even loved them. But right now, he had to get out of the way before something bad happened. Perhaps Juliet had been getting too cocky. Perhaps everything had started to go too right.

He'd always tried to remind himself the world was a crap place and no-one got anything they deserved. Karma could be a bitch.

"I'll see you later," Argus said as Juliet passed him, placing a hand on his shoulder. "Stay safe. Stay quiet."

"Will do."

Juliet ran and then ran some more. His footsteps were as quiet and as muffled as he could force them to be. Even with fear rampaging through his body, his veins on fire, he forced his head down and his eyes to the ground below. Pulling up a hood would be stupid because it was usually those sort of shifty characters that were immediately latched onto.

He knew tomorrow would be tricky. Security was the worst on Reaping day and if he didn't turn up, his unregistered name would spark trouble. He'd have to think of something. Some course of action to evade the inevitable.

Whoever the fuck said my name is going to pay, Juliet swore to himself, fists balling in anger. Fuck this District.

Coming from the Lower Cut, the neighbourhood now a part of Sector Nine that had always been looked down on, Juliet should have expected this one day.

But he hadn't.

There was one thought that went through his mind, if the worst came to pass tomorrow and he knew there was no escape, but he quickly smothered that down.

Not yet.

It was a last resort.

Juliet was scared and he didn't do scared.

Fuck them all.

Gormlaith Rivière, 18 years old;
Sector Eleven Female.

"Gormlaith Morgan Rivière, come down right this second!"

She heard her mother's voice and the stubborn part of River crossed her arms round her chest instantly, shaking her head to herself. No damn way. Not if she calls me that. River stroked her short hair with the brush and laughed at the way she looked in the mirror. She liked it – she enjoyed the edgy vibe it gave, and the fact that this was entirely who River wanted to be. But part of her also enjoyed the fact that sometimes people did regard her as different. River didn't really mind – she enjoyed most things about her identity.

Apart from fucking Gormlaith.

"Gormlaith!" she heard again, and then the angry footsteps coming up the staircase. River sat stubbornly on her bed, averting her eyes from the door as the wailing soon began. Oh great. Her heart felt a sudden pang of guilt at the sound of the baby and something urged River forwards, but then she slumped back in her bed, watching as the door was thrown open. "Any particular reason you've chosen today of all days to become deaf?"

River pointed to her ears and shook her head with a sly grin on her face.

Her mother heard the wailing coming from Lakilynn's bedroom and she sighed, staring at River with a very disappointed look on her face. She was the kind of mother that through all her newfound distance towards River, still thought that disappointment over anger was a sure-fire way of making River feel ever so guilty of herself.

It wasn't. If anything, River enjoyed it all the more.

"All I ask is to keep a tidy house," her mother said, raising her arms up in defeat, "that's all I ask. I don't think it's much considering I let you live under my roof free of charge."

"And whilst I appreciate that, all I ask is that you call me River. It won't cost you a penny."

River saw a slight twitch of a smile and knew immediately that she'd won. Without letting herself get frustrated and plastering on a bit of a flippant manner, most people usually came around to River. It was in these times River almost forgot how alone she felt in her bedroom. The wailing of the baby snapped her mind back to her stone-cold reality. The baby took precedent over her. It was hard because whilst the rational part of River understood why, the girl that still wanted a mother continued to feel lost.

And when River felt lost, her ability to remain calm started to slip.

"Just go downstairs River and tidy up. Please?"

River nodded and as she passed her mother in the doorway, she raised a hand to place on her shoulder comfortingly. Something stopped her mid-air, faltering at the last second. Her mother flinched a little and River sighed, her heart beating in her chest as the crying continued and she quickly ran downstairs, jumping over the last step and marching through into the kitchen.

With every cry, River's heart continued to tremble under the weight of Lakilynn's existence. They had formed the perfect little secret and River knew that her mother was almost starting to believe it. That Lakilynn was hers.

And not… no. No – we agreed. I can't do that any longer.

River fixated her mind on washing the dishes rather than on the cooing coming from upstairs and the lullaby that peacefully enveloped the house in a warm and cosy embrace. Even River was lulled into a sense of security and she swayed in time to her mother's song, rinsing the final dish and seating herself round the kitchen table.

Through the open window she could hear bird-song and the chattering of people that River knew, but they didn't really care much for her. She enjoyed being out there in the open sky with everyone around her, getting lost in a sea of faces that River revered and held dear. It was easy for River to get along with people, but it was also easy for someone to say the wrong thing, and for River to suddenly find herself in hotter water than she had ever intended.

Sometimes, for someone with River's mind, keeping herself to her bedroom was just a lot easier. A lot went over River's head on occasion – today she didn't feel like being made to feel a joke.

It was never her intention to be laughed at. Only to do the laughing – to join in the fun.

She realised she had started swaying in time to the harmony coming through the floorboards and she shook herself from her thoughts. The smile returned to River's face and the gentle footsteps returned from up above as her mother walked carefully down the stairs and held in her arms little Lakilynn. River stomached every emotion that always reared itself in the presence of the child. She was Lakilynn's sister because it meant that River could still have an existence outside of responsibility.

It still meant she could do what she loved – train, make a name for herself, be River. Not Gormlaith. She knew who she really was from the moment she'd turned twelve and whilst sometimes the world did its best to tell her otherwise, she was proud of her identity. Proud to be River. The girl that always tried her best in what she set her heart and mind to.

It didn't really matter what people thought of her.

"Thank you." River looked up at the sound of her mother's gentle voice and realised, for the first time in a long time, her eyes were looking at River with genuine fondness. Does she know? River hadn't told anyone about what she was planning to do tomorrow. She hadn't even really sorted it out with herself. Everything was happening so fast, much faster than River's mind could take, but it always came to the same eventuality. "Why don't you go outside and enjoy the day? It's lovely out there."

River nodded and stared once at Lakilynn's cherub-like face. Rosy red cheeks underneath a mop of dark curls. She looked radiant.

She looks like me. I've seen the photos.

"I can go and bring us back some lunch, if you like? The market is open today."

In that moment, River watched as her mother's eyes landed on the baby in her arms and River became non-existent to the world once more. A split-second and she was back to staring into emptiness. River swallowed her sadness, stood up from the chair, and ambled on through the hallway and to the front door.

She almost called out. Something. Anything. But as her heart began to beat with a newfound anger, the beginnings of emotions that River always tried to smother down, she shook her head and left the house she had always found such love and peace within.

Her world was changing. And with it, River knew she had to change also.

She held her head high as she walked through the crowds of people and cheerfully waved at those that spotted her, and tried not to take offence to those that paid her no attention whatsoever. Those people did not matter. She liked who she was and that had to be enough.

She was River.

And her life was hers.

Ozias was supposed to be in this chapter I know but I wrote Kasiani and when I went to write him I realised he was part of the same sector. Not that it means much but I didn't want a sector repeat in a single chapter. Idk. But he'll be in the next one!

This is the longest it's taken me to update since March lmao. And it's not even been that long.

Been back at work this week, but I'm off next week, so expect maybe two updates? I'm not sure. You're all amazing tho and I appreciate everyone who's reading and reviewing! Much love.

Up next: Syrella, Bex, Ozias and Brodus.

Stay safe yo!