To RandomPerson1818- I'm really sorry if this isn't what you wanted your character to be like. I've never even heard of schizophrenia until I got your character, so I don't really know what it's like. Please tell me if you don't like the way I wrote about him.

I don't have much else to say here. I do want to give a shout-out to my three regular reviewers- Smiley, IciclePower33, and RandomPerson1818. Thanks so much, guys! Your reviews really make my day!

Anyway, I hope you like this chapter!

Wyatt

I sit on a hill, marveling at the scene laid out before me. The sun is setting over a sparkling blue ocean. A herd of horses colored in white and brown and all sorts of other amazing colors graze in a field to the side of me. On the other side, a mess of pink and yellow clouds loom in the sky. I sigh, lying back on the soft green grass, wishing this moment would last forever. And then-

Beep! Beep! Beep!

My eyes flicker open and my mind is immediately invaded by the voices. I try to go back to sleep, to go back to the wonderful world of dreams, but the voices don't let me.

Get up. They whisper. I attempt to block them out, like I have a million times before, but like every time, they won't go away. I grunt and reluctantly roll out of bed. The sun is already high up in the sky. I must have slept later than usual.

I trudge down the rickety stairs to breakfast. Mom and Dad are already there. Mom looks up and gives me a big smile. "Do you want any breakfast, honey?" She says, using the high, slow voice she always uses while talking to me. She thinks I'm mentally disturbed, and I guess I am, but it goes deeper than that. I have Schizophrenia. There are voices inside my head. The doctors don't know that, despite what I tell them. The doctors in District 5 don't know much of anything.

My mom serves me up a plate of bacon, eggs, and toast. It's not that much for the richer people in District 5, but for us, it's a feast. I immediately dig in, savoring the taste. It's not long before my plate has been completely cleared.

"Why don't you go get ready for the Reaping, now, okay?" Mom says. The voices begin hissing at me. You shouldn't have to go to the Reaping. They say. I begin trembling. I have to. I tell them. No, you don't. They argue back. You have a right to do what you want. I begin to see their point. They're right! I shouldn't have to go to the Reaping!

They're tricking you. Don't listen to them. A tiny voice says, but it's overpowered by the rest of them. I stand up and announce, "I'm not going to the Reaping." Mom and Dad share a pained expression. "Wyatt." Dad says gently. "I know you don't want to, but you don't have a choice." "I can do what I want, and no one can stop me." I respond. Dad seems to grow more exasperated. "Wyatt, the Peacekeepers could kill you!" So? The voices say. "So?" I repeat. My father stands up from the table. "Wyatt, you will go to the Reaping!"

The voices scream in retaliation, and I begin to tremble. Before I can do anything, however, Dad grabs me and pulls me into my room. I struggle, but I'm not strong, so he easily overpowers me. He shuts the door to my room and locks it.

The voices go crazy. They make me scream and bang on the door. Finally, they begin to quiet down and I collapse, defeated. I look around and realize that I damaged most of my belongings in my rage. All because of an impossible desire to skip the Reaping.

It's not impossible. I hear. The voices. The stupid, stupid voices have done this to me. I turn on them. What have you done?! I shout in my head. We're helping you. They respond, then begin laughing. Go away! I tell them. They just keep laughing. Stop it! I'm met with more laughter.

I curl up into a ball and rock back and forth, wishing they would leave. But they don't. Instead, they swirl around my mind, torturing me. I begin to cry. I want all of this to just be over.

Xxx

I wait in the crowd of 17-year-olds. The heat is almost unbearable and makes it hard to think. The voices certainly aren't helping, either. We told you to just stay home! I grit my teeth. I'm not in the mood to have this argument again. Would you please stop bothering me for a moment? I plead. They ignore me and I groan inwardly.

The mayor comes on and reads off the History of Panem. It's extremely boring. Finally, after he describes the victors (there've been 6), our escort, Larido Bodrik, comes sprinting onstage. He wears a crazy silver wig and a black suit with sparkles here and there. He's sweating like crazy, and it looks like he just wants to get the Reaping over with so he can go back into the cool air conditioning.

"Greetings, greetings!" He rasps. "Welcome to the District 5 Reaping! Let's not waste any time rambling and go straight to the Reaping. First, the girl!" He reaches down and grabs a name. "Kala Haggart!"

Kala walks onstage, her face completely expressionless. Larido smiles at her and asks, "Are there any volunteers?" Larido waits a few seconds, but when no one makes a move, he goes over to the boys' bowl. I hold my breath. "Jared Marcit!"

I let out a sigh of relief. It's not me.

And then the voices begin to torment me.

Volunteer for him. They order me. My eyes widen and I shake my head. No way! I say firmly. The voices are not going to make me put my life on the line. But they keep pestering me. Look at the boy's face! Look how upset he looks! I stare at the tears glistening on the boy's cheeks. I hesitate, then shake my head. I can't!

Says who? The voices persist. Larido calls for volunteers. Do it!

I think for a split second, then shout, "I volunteer!"

As I walk up to the stage, I realize what I've just done. Why are you doing this to me?! I shout at the voices. We're helping you out. They say. Think of the glory you'll have when you win! I pause, imagining living in a Victor's house. Then I realize they're trying to trick me. There's no way I'll be able to win these games.

I consider trying to back out of this mess, but Larido is already beckoning me towards the stage, grinning at me. He's probably overjoyed. District 5 hasn't had a volunteer in years.

"A volunteer!" He says, bouncing up and down. "How exciting!" What's your name?"

"Wyatt Foster Junior." I tell him. "Awesome!" He says. "I'm sure the Capitol is delighted! District 5, your tributes!" The mayor reads off the Treaty of Treason and a Peacekeeper grabs me by the arm. He takes me into the Justice Building and leads me to the first door on the right. He opens the door and shoves me inside, then leaves.

Not long afterwards, the door opens again and my family runs in. They embrace me, and I cry into their shoulder. After a while, Dad looks at me. "Why?" He asks simply. "They made me." I sob. He sighs. "Who? Who made you risk your life?" "The voices! They made me!" I say.

Dad doesn't say anything. Instead, he pulls me back into a hug. There we remain until a Peacekeeper comes. "Time's up." He pulls my parents off of me and forces them through the door.

No friends come to visit me. I don't have friends. Everybody stays away from me at school. Soon, a Peacekeeper grabs me and takes me to the train. As I leave the only home I've ever known, I think about the boy I volunteered for. How relieved he and his family must feel. Thinking of that almost makes up for the fact that in a few weeks, I'll most likely be dead.

Almost.

Kala

I sit at my desk, my pen hovering over an empty sheet of paper. I try to think of something to write, but I come up blank. It's just too hard to think when the Reaping's right round the corner. Besides, I can't concentrate when my sister, Luan, is screaming at my parents in the other room.

I throw the pen down and sit back in my chair, frustrated. I would leave to find a place more peaceful to work in, but to do that I'd have to walk straight through Luan and my parents' argument. I'm afraid of what they'll say to me if I do that.

I contemplate my options. I could stay home and be bored the entire day. Or I could leave and risk facing the wrath of my family. I decide to take the risk.

I slip out of my bedroom and down the hall to the kitchen. There, my family stands, yelling at each other and waving their arms around in exaggerated motions. I wait until their backs are turned, then attempt to slip out the front door. However, my mom spots me before I can.
"And where are YOU going?!" She shouts. "I was just…" I trail off, unsure of what to say. "Well, you're not going anywhere, you lazy, good-for-nothing slob!" My mom tells me. "You're going to stay right here!" I nod quickly, scurry back to my room, and collapse on my bed. Tears build up behind my eyes. I know my mom doesn't mean that. She's probably just stressed out from work. Still, it stung. Add that to the fact that the Reaping is today, and it's too much.

Tears begin trickling down my cheeks. I sigh. This is going to be a long day.

xxx

I pull on a dark blue dress, the only nice thing in my small wardrobe. The shouts of my family have long since quieted down. After combing out my curly black hair, I glance at myself in the mirror. I figure I look nice enough, so I creep out of the house. I live in the outskirts of town, so it takes me a long time to get to the Town Square where they host the Reaping. As I get closer, I begin to see more and more people heading in the same direction. I stare at the ground, careful to avoid looking at anyone.

I step in line to get my finger pricked. I'm somewhat early, so there aren't many other people around. A Peacekeeper grabs hold of my finger and sticks his needle into it. I wince. He presses my finger into the book and waves me through. I walk past him and file into the 16-year-old section. There, I wait for the Reaping to begin.

After a while, the mayor comes onstage. "Welcome, welcome." He says. "I'm sure you're all ecstatic for this year's Hunger Games. But before we begin, let's review Panem's history."

I moan. This is extremely boring, and they talk about it every year. But I suppose it's better than watching two children being carried off to die, one of which could be me.

After the mayor finishes the speech, he announces our victors. We've had a few, six to be exact, although one of them died from disease. It's not as good as, say, a Career district, but it's better than some other districts.

When the mayor's done talking, our escort comes onstage. He gives a strained smile. I can tell he's dying from the heat.

"Greetings, greetings!" He greets us. "Welcome to the District 5 Reaping! Let's not waste any time rambling and go straight to the Reaping. First, the girl!" He reaches down and grabs a slip of paper. I pray that it's not me. "Kala Haggart!"

Oh, no.

I want to break down sobbing right here, but I know that I won't make a good impression on potential sponsors that way. So I purse my lips and walk calmly to the stage, keeping a straight face. "Are there any volunteers?" Larido asks. I know there won't be, but I'm still disappointed when no one steps forward. Larido heads to the boys' bowl and announces, "Jared Marcit!"

I hear someone burst into tears. Jared, a tiny boy with scruffy black hair, takes tentative steps to the stage, crying softly. I suspect he's a twelve year old. There's no way he'll get past the bloodbath.

"Are there any volunteers?" Larido asks. I expect there to be silence, but suddenly, a voice rings out from the crowd. "I volunteer!"

There are whispers of surprise as the boy, who looks scrawny and weak, comes forward. We haven't had a volunteer in years. Larido smiles as he comes to stand next to him. "A volunteer! How exciting! What's your name?"

"Wyatt Foster Junior." The boy says into the microphone. I blink, shocked. I've heard of Wyatt. He's in the grade above me. There have been lots of rumors about him, saying he's mentally ill. I wonder if they're true.
The mayor reads the Treaty of Treason. I feel something tug at my arm, and I turn around to see that a Peacekeeper is dragging me into the Justice Building. I don't try to struggle. It won't help.

I'm thrown into a room of fancy furniture. I look around in awe and can't help but think how much money was spent on it. My guess is that it would feed more than a few starving families for a long time.

My family members come rushing in and throw their arms around me. I let the tears begin to flow, sobbing my heart out. My dad pats me on the shoulder. "It's okay." He whispers. "It's all going to be okay." I nod, even though I know that it's not true. After a moment, Luan pulls away and takes out a pen. "Here." She says. "I know you love writing, so I thought it would be good for your token. She begins to cry. I tighten my grip around her and refuse to let go, even when a Peacekeeper comes in to tell us that our time is up. Two more Peacekeepers come in and pry Luan off of me. She screams and thrashes against their arms, but they're too powerful for her. I watch, crying, as the Peacekeeper slams the door shut again.

After a little while, a Peacekeeper grabs me and pulls me towards the train station. I don't bother to hide the tears on my face, even though multiple cameras are trained on me. What's the point, anyway? I know I won't live through the Hunger Games. There's no way.

As I'm taken onto the train and whisked away, I give a little wave to my home.

Goodbye, District 5.

Thanks to RandomPerson1818 for Wyatt Foster Junior (I made Kala). :)

Questions:

What is Kala's token?

What mental illness does Wyatt have?

I feel like I need to tell you guys something, but I don't remember what it is, so I guess I'll see you later!