I have three chapters to publish tonight, finished my work in class so my teacher allowed me to write ^_^

Loveless Arie Stone POV:

They killed everyone of them. They tore through my family, killing anyone they could get their hands on. It was a wonder me, my brother, cousins, and grandfather were even still breathing.

Funny enough, it started with my grandparents. They fought on the side of the District's, like everyone else who lived here. They got my grandmother but my grandfather escaped to what he thought was freedom.

It took them years to get us but when I was little, my father was killed in an explosion. That, anyone, could accept as an accident. However, when you mother and aunts are killed only a few weeks later due to a building collapsing, it becomes harder to explain. Sure, it could have just been rotten luck, that's what the peacekeepers said it was, but a close neighbor swore they saw someone cutting the supports of the same building, moments before it came tumbling down.

Angered, my uncles came together and fought back, refusing to be snuffed out for something that wasn't their fault. Sadly, they didn't get far, their bullet-ridden bodies were just passed off, once again, as an accident, a misfire on the Peacekeepers part.

After their deaths, my grandfather decided to stay low, not causing any trouble and expecting the worst in everything. He trained me from the day I went to live with him, just incase The Capitol pulled a low blow, such as reaping me into the Games. If the wanted me in, I was going to come back. It didn't make it any less frightening, though.

I stood there, in my section, my heart beating at the speed of a train. I looked at my family, my brother and cousins. Some of them were stood behind me with our grandfather, too young to be involved. Some of us were waiting to see if our name would be chosen this year.

There was Castor, my little brother who was stood with the fifteen year olds, he was calm as always, taking everything in his stride. My cousin Taran was stood behind me, flashing me a warm, encouraging smile while our escort picked out the female name. Kansas was shaking at the front. It was his first year and he wasn't handling it well. He had the least chance of being chosen out of any of us yet, he was still terrified. I stood on my tiptoes to see my final family member but I couldn't see, she was always good at the reapings but I was still worried.

"Moon Stone!" the escort called, alerting me to my little cousin's placement. She let out a small squeak when her name was called. The crowd around her parted, relieving her small form. I looked back to Taran who clentched his first, his warm smile gone and replaced with anger. Kansas was in tears and Castor had become hidden from view. None of us wanted to lose another family member. Myself, Castor and Taran were trained but Moon was too young to start her training. She wouldn't make it past the bloodbath.

"I volunteer!" I shouted, pushing my way through my row and towards the stage. The District gasped, Castor called out for me but Moon was safe, Taran taking her back to my grandfather and that was all that mattered.

Tobias Murkon POV:

"What would you like dear?" the old women behind the counter asked me with a warm smile. I looked up, touching my neck and my broken speech implant. The women cocked her head to her side as I started to explain my shopping list through my hands. She watched the quick movements and raised a brow towards me.

"W-what ya' doing there kid?" she asked, flicking her cigarette ash into a tray on the counter. I lowered my head in sadness while the women let out a defeated sigh. "Look, kid, I don't have a clue what you are doing, get your mum or someone to do this type of stuff for you,". I turned away, angered but I didn't blame her for not understanding sign language. It isn't something people tend to learn in Eight. I wouldn't have known any of it if it wasn't for my father.

When I was about six, he became enraged after one of his childhood friends were shot by a rogue Peacekeeper. He took it out on me, tearing my throat with his hands and beating me until I couldn't see out of either eye. Somehow I survived the ordeal but lost my ability to speak.

I put up with years of being the victim, bullied for my condition. Until when I was eleven and my mother revealed that she had been saving up for a speech implant it said what I wanted to say and although the bullying never stopped, it calmed down. Until a few days ago when it broke again, leaving me to solve my own problems once more.

I smiled at the woman who held the shop door open for me but she just scowled at me.

"Thank you goes a long way, didn't your mother ever teach you manners?" She snapped, slamming the door. My mother did, and I wanted nothing more than to thank her. It pained me to be silent when I spent six years talking before I lost it forever.

I walked round the corner and placed a small notebook on the wall and scribbled my thoughts down. When I was done, I ran back into the shop and tore two slips of paper from the book and handed one to the women behind the counter. She read it before turning round and placing what I asked for in a basket. I then turned to the other women and handed her the other note. It just said 'thank you'. The woman looked at me and smiled as I turned round to collect my shopping and ran out the door. No matter how bleak things seemed, I always found a way.