Trigger warning: mentions of drug abuse in the second POV.
Jason Powell, aged 16
Well, this sucks.
Jason finds himself sitting alone on an old chair in the Justice Building. The room has never been cleaned, is full of dust and something smells. Jason's pretty certain that if he opens up the walls, he'll find a dead animal in there.
What's the point of him sitting here? Nobody is gonna come say goodbye. Well, maybe his friends will show up, but not his dad. Not the dad who simply 'forgot' that he had a son for 16 years. His coworkers won't come to say goodbye either. If a new kid isn't hired to take over his factory shifts, then the money will go into someone else's wage.
This, Jason realizes, is why factory workers are never allowed to have full-time pay until they turn 19. Because the big bosses never want the risk of having a valuable employee that gets screwed over at the Reaping. Of course, it doesn't matter now. Jason's fate has damned him yet again and the boss will simply go find another younger sucker for the factory.
The door creaks open. Inside stumbles a thin boy, a year younger than Jason. He looks like he hasn't had a meal in ages. Then, again if he's living off factory wages like Jason, then he really can't afford much to eat.
"Hey kid," Jason mutters.
"Hi." Track sits crossed-legged on the floor, in front of his best friend. "Tyson and Vee wanted to come, but they have their jobs."
"That's fine." Even if not all of his friends can come, Jason is glad that Track is there. It's better than being alone.
"I suppose you feel like crap," Track muses.
"Of course I do." Jason leans back in his chair, but stops when he hears something crack. "I can't believe there are kids out there who train and volunteer for this shit."
"Those guys are scary."
"This is stupid."
Track raises an eyebrow. Both boys know to watch their words, because saying the wrong thing to the wrong person has horrible consequences in District 6. But Jason is past the point of caring. "I really don't see a point in picking some poor suckers and dumping them in an arena until they die. Sure, maybe to scare the rebels at first, but are there even any rebels left?"
"I bet that if it was you who wasn't Reaped, you wouldn't feel so strongly about it," Tracks says. And he has a point. Jason groans. His friend stands up. "Well, I gotta go. But I promise, I'll try and save up so I can sponsor you."
"You don't have to do that," Jason says, but Track is already gone.
After that, Jason expects the Peacekeepers to come back for him. Instead, his father enters the room. Jason doesn't bother trying to hide the scowl on his face. "Why are you here?"
"To tell you how much I love you."
Jason snickers. "You never told me that before. Heck, you've never cared until now. Why the sudden change of heart? Is it because I'm gonna die in a few days?"
"You won't die."
If Jason was the strongest tribute in the arena, then sure, he'd have a solid chance. But throw in some Careers, the unpredictable Gamemakers, a couple of muttations and the fact nobody knows what the arena is, then Jason's odds of winning don't look so great.
His father puts a hand on his shoulder. Jason brushes it away.
"I-" Now his father's at a loss for words. "Look, I believe you have a chance. You're a smart kid."
"So what?"
"Jason, please! I know this is hard on both of us."
This is hard. Slowly, reality is sinking in and Jason is realizing the fact that he may never see District 6 again. Jason's father moves to put a hand on his shoulder again. This time, Jason only flinches at the touch, but doesn't push away. He feels his father coming closer, but doesn't fight back.
After a while, there is a sharp knock at the door. "Time's up," a gruff voice says. Jason's father stand up, giving his son one last sympathetic look before disappearing through the door. A Peacekeeper pushes past him and glances around before reaching inside and yanking Jason from the chair.
"Don't feel so bad about yourself, kid. Last year's boy had no visitors at all."
"Shocker," Jason says. His voice is devoid of any emotion. He is pushed down the hallway and falls in step with his District partner. What's her name...Tamora? Her eyes are red and her lips are chapped, but she's silent. Sometimes, silence speaks volumes, like right now.
Eventually, they've left the Justice Building and are sitting on a train. In front of them, on the verge of dozing off, are District 6's only living mentors. Both of them are groggy and confused, with little pricks littering their arms. Tamora doesn't look them in the eye. Jason tries not show his disappointment as well, but he's never had the highest view of morphling addicts. And now, one of them holds his life in their hands.
"Well," the escort says, clearly anxious to leave. "Vira, Kai, the tributes are here. I'll you all alone then." She hurries off.
Jason faces the Victors. He can still feel the touch of his father's hand. The memories of saying goodbye are fresh in his mind. Already, he's starting to regret leaving his father on such a sour note. They might have been distant, but they're family, damn it.
And now they've been torn apart.
Jason lightly shoves Kai's arm, hoping to gain his mentor's attention. But the Victor is far too gone in his head, stuck in a realm of the dazed and drugged. It's amazing this guy is still alive, when he clearly can't take care of himself, let alone a tribute.
Jason's screwed.
The odds are looking worse by the minute.
Kai Smith, aged 49
People always remembered him as a dirty drug addict.
In the eyes of Panem, Kai Smith was worthless. All he did was shove needles in his arms and drug the pain away. Even if he was at a point where he couldn't recall why he did such a thing, he just kept going. Far too lost in his addiction to ever stop.
Of course, that's all the Capitol ever said. That's the lie the other Districts believed. But, the older citizens of 6 knew a different story. Many of them knew Kai when he wasn't an addict. When he was a bright, bold teenage boy who always lent a helping hand to his neighbours. When he lived with his mother, father, and two younger brothers.
Before the Hunger Games broke him.
Kai went into the 42nd Hunger Games at the age of 16. It didn't take long for that to crush his spirit. When interviewed during the Games, Kai's youngest brother said that while saying goodbye, mere minutes after the Reaping, Kai already bore the look of someone sentenced to death.
His training score of 3 was unimpressive and his interview was a complete flop. When the Games finally started, nobody believed that such a pathetic tribute would ever triumph above the rest and survive, let alone make it out of the Bloodbath. Kai was aware of his low odds and bad reputation.
When the boy from 4 clamped hands around his neck, he hoped for a sweet release.
And he closed his eyes.
Nothing happened.
Kai opened his eyes to find himself lying on the ground, but alive. The boy from 4 had collapsed with two arrows sticking out of his back. Briefly, Kai locked eyes with the startled girl from 8, carrying a bow in her hands and with a quiver on her back.
Then he ran.
As he darted across the arena, Kai giggled to himself. The Bloodbath was being held in the centre of a large castle, built from coloured bricks. The yard consisted on four large walls, too smooth for scaling, but with openings the tributes could dart through. Kai chose a random one and hurried into it, then made a sharp right. He ran up a flight of stairs, before coming along a hallway that gave him two options, to go straight, or right again.
Kai wanted to run straight, until he slipped on the top stairs and slammed against the wall on his left. It slid open. Kai glanced behind himself, then hurried through, making sure to close the door tight. A narrow, spiraling staircase awaited him, and he climbed up to the top.
He was in a tower.
It didn't consist of much, just a round room with a fancy window. A painting of a king, covered by a torn black cloth. An old rocking chair. Half a dozen barrels, covered in dust. Kai struggled to get the first barrel open, but when he did, he yelped happily at what was inside.
Food. Water. A small tarp. A first-aid kit. Each of the other barrels contained similar prizes.
Kai wouldn't have to leave his tower for a long time.
And he didn't. For eleven days, Kai remained undetected, hiding inside his little tower. Every day, he heard distant footsteps as tributes walked towards his tower's entrance and every day, they passed by him without suspecting a thing.
On the twelfth day, the four-person Career pack found another secret entrance on the opposite side of the castle, when the girl from 1 was resting against a green brick and almost fell backwards when it opened up. They then pillaged the room of its supplies and went about searching. When they passed by Kai's secret entrance, they didn't go on with their way. They opened it up.
Kai should've died that day. And he almost did. He had the choice of fighting for his life against the Careers, or jumping out the window and giving himself an easier end. He jumped. Somehow, he landed on a slanted roof underneath his tower, which broke his fall and allowed him to land easier.
That night, Kai was sponsored a First-aid kit containing six morphling needles, to help numb his pain.
Those needles became the reason Panem remembered him as an addict.
Kai was hooked. He stuck the first needle in his arm, unsure of what it would bring. Then, he grabbed the second. The third. The fourth. His entire stash was soon gone, leaving behind a dazed 16 year-old, trapped in his own little high. He didn't know what brought him to this point, and he didn't care. All he cared about was this amazing feeling, this sudden security, the need to do nothing ever.
Everybody thought he was a goner.
Somehow, for some reason, Kai kept surviving. He kept surviving to the point where everyone else was dead and he was the only tribute left. He survived to the point where even if the Gamemakers resisted, they had to call him their Victor.
Soon afterwards, he turned to morphling to quite his demons, hoping to experience the exact same high from the arena. Hoping to trap himself in his little paradise, his utopia, where he was safe from the cruelty of the Capitol, as long as that needle was injected into his arm.
This was the only part of him the Capitol cared about.
Wonder of anybody will figure out what the castle from Kai's arena was made of...