I HAVE A POLL ON MY PROFILE FOR YOU TOO VOTE FOR YOUR TOP FIVE TRIBUTES. VOTE BECAUSE THE TRIBUTES WITH THE MOST VOTE WILL HAVE A POV DURING THE CHARIOTS! THE POLL ENDS IN 24 HOURS.
Ashton (Ash) Khell POV:
My little brother clung to the warm bread in his arms, a bright smile on his face as he took in the smell. He held a tattered umbrella over his head to keep our food dry. Our parents died when I was eleven, my father in a mining accident and my mother in childbirth to our little sister who perished only a few hours later. As cruel as it sounded, my sister's death was for the best. Without our mothers milk and the money to buy a substitute, she wouldn't have lasted long.
I spent every day, working in the mines until I collapsed. At the end of the day, my brother would meet me at the entrance to the mine, a smile on his face and hope in his eyes and at the end of the week, we would spend all the money I had saved up buy a small, warm loaf of bread. It wasn't much, two slices a day was all we had but it was enough to keep us going.
I told my brother to wait in the street while I dug in the bins outside the bakery, he obeyed, asking me to be quick because was cold. I pulled the tin lid of the bin and quietly placed it on the floor next to me. I rummaged through it's contents until a gunshot woke the neighborhood. The lights at the bakery flickered on and I ran around the corner before the caught sight of me.
"Mick, run-" I stopped in my tracks when I saw my little brother lying still on the wet ground. The bread next to him soaking up the water from a muddy puddle. The owner of the bakery came out but just let out a scream, running back in to get her husband.
I cradled my brothers head and begged for him to get up but his eyes stayed frozen, absent of life. I looked up to see two Peacekeepers, both intoxicated. One was frantically trying to hide his gun while the other was already walking away.
I buried my brother the next day and got my revenge two weeks later. I found the same two Peacekeepers at the same bar, passed out in the street right were they killed Mick. Before they could wake and when no one was about, I stabbed them in the eye, killing them both quickly and quietly.
Every reaping after, I expected to be reaped so when I was, I didn't scream or cry, I just accepted it. I had trained since my brother's death just incase the day came. I wasn't reaped because of my kills, no one found out about that. It was just rotten luck and the messed up ways of the Capitol. I knew what I needed to do, though. I would kill anyone who followed The Capitol, every single Career. Then I would win and show them that Twelve wasn't some useless District, it's citizens mattered more than they thought. We were more than their entertainment. I had the plan, I just needed to carry it out.
Tiara Brookie POV:
I scowled at my District partner when he was pulled away into the room adjacent from me. He was dirty and poor and his smell made me sick. I didn't belong here, I belonged with my loving aunt and uncle.
My uncle was the mayor, he was the only who raised me after my two, Peacekeeper parents accidentally had me. As their profession shunned families, they passed me over to uncle Earl. It was for the best. I was raised in a life of luxury, anything I wanted was mine I never went hungry and I never went without. Life was perfect. Until today.
"Get me out of this!" I screamed when uncle Earl and aunt Alwyn burst through the door, anger on their face. Aunt Alwyn ran towards me and scooped me up in her arms, crying into my chocolate brown hair. I swatted her away and repeated my previous request but louder. My aunt shushed me then turned round to my uncle who couldn't even look me in the eye.
"We can't, no one is willing to take any amount of bribe to save you," he sighed, sitting down on a stool across from me. "It's not like when you were twelve,".
"When I was twelve?" I shouted, stamping my feet. Aunt Alwyn scowled at her husband but he answered my question anyway.
"When you were twelve, you were reaped, right? Well, the only reason you didn't go into the Games was because I bribed a family with money to force their daughter to volunteer. After her gory death, though, willing families were nonexistent anymore. No one wants to volunteer," he started to cry and I felt sick. I always thought she volunteered for me because she liked me. Only now, looking at my crying family did I realized how alone I was. No one liked me and they all wanted me dead. I would show them.