Here we have District Nine!

QUESTION!: Would you want smut scenes in this story? Only smut scenes that fitted the storylines and characters. I just want to know what your thoughts on it are. I would put disclaimers on the chapters if I was to do them.

NOTICE! Beckham has some very adult themes in his POV, if you are not comfortable with that, feel free to skip his first POV.

ENJOY!

Beckham Knox, 18

District Nine Male

My bed in the warehouse was cold and far from comfortable. A small piece of cardboard on a cold, damp floor with nothing but a thin blanket keeping me warm. I would have traded my warm showers for a warm bed to sleep in. Sadly, the cameras did not see where we slept, they saw how dirty we were. Now, a dirty child wasn't a turn on.

They were smart about my placement in the sleeping quarters. They had no trouble with what gender slept where. At this moment, a boy and a girl slept either side of me. They knew most of us were too scared to try anything sexual of our own accord and if we did, as long as no physical harm was done, it did not matter. Yet, my little sister was not placed in the same room as me.

They knew I would not try to escape without her, she would not escape without me. Between the areas, we were kept were at least fifty guards with weapons. So, after a while, I stopped spending my nights trying to find a way out and started sleeping.

I wish my sister would just leave, without me. Allowed me to rot in this place but knowing she was free would soften the blow. I was her big brother, the guy who was supposed to protect her from the harm in the world. I hadn't been very good at that. I violated her on a daily basis, my own sister, the very person I was supposed to protect.

Of course, I was forced to carry out such acts on her before the camera but it didn't make it any better for me. She should have been achieving high grades in school, I should have been protecting her from guys at school while myself fighting off girls and boys who wanted to be with me.

Instead, we were taken from our family and forced to film porn for the Capitol. I didn't mind when it was with other people, even a man triple my age, I had become numb to it now, I just got it over with. My sister, on the other hand, that twisted act was the only thing that brought anger and sadness to me. Yet, she still managed to smile at me and talk to me like she did when we were children. I, on the other hand, felt plagued by my failings as a brother.

We couldn't live the lives we wanted to live. My sister would never gain the education she deserved, I would never get married. Well, not that I wanted to. I found it hard to trust people and felt no attraction to either gender. The idea of sex had never seemed appealing to me. Even as a hormone raged teen, I never looked for it. I could have gone my life completely single and a virgin and I wouldn't have cared. I thought it was a passing phase, but now I had come to appreciate it was just me.

Far off in the corner of the room, I could hear one of the new kids whimpering for his mother. He looked only about twelve. It was his first session today with one of the adult stars. The first time was always the worst and it didn't get better. I just hoped I was not partnered up with him. I never liked being with children.

As I heard him sob for his family to rescue him, I saw myself, sixteen crying for my mother like a little child. Away from my sister Beatrice, cold and hurting. After three years, I had learned that no one was going to save me. Maybe they did but even if they knew where to look, they would have been shot at the door, I had heard it happen to other broken parents, begging for their children back.

I had even stopped dreaming about being free. If I was free, what would I gain? I was a broken, tainted man. No woman or man would want me and if they did, they would always look at me with pity. I could never look at a pair of siblings in the same way. If I didn't have Beatrice, I would have honestly ended my life in the first few months.

Violet Hardgrove, 17

District Nine Female

My mother always had a knack for making me look stunning on Reaping day. Her ideal was that our income didn't equal how we looked. If that meant she had to make beautiful dresses for me by hand, so be it.

This year it was a simple cream dress, handmade, sewn yellow flowers covering the bottom half. The dress was just long enough to hide a small hole in my white tights and my mother had reattached the soul of my white flats that morning. The brown jacket I wore was made from one of my father's old jackets. The moths had gotten to it my mothers handy work had made it look fresh from Eight.

Yet, even though I looked beautiful, I couldn't find the emotions to appreciate my beauty. Not until after the Reaping. I just sat there, staring at the flowers on my dress as my mother brushed through my hair. It seemed every year I placed my name in more times. I'd had lost count of how many it had been now. Over ten I suppose.

The thing was, I didn't just take them out for my family, I took them out to barter in our shop. What started out as a general store had now become a trading post for the District. I had doubts my parents had dealt with money in years. Being the only child, it fell down to me to gain things to barter. Farming tools got you a decent trade but everyone truly wanted food.

Yet, part of me appreciates the closeness the Reapings would bring. Every parent wanted to spend time with their child, just in case luck did not shine upon them. The evening, my parents would be back at work but now, I was their main priority. I could predict them down to every move.

My mother would quietly make me look pretty, my father telling me how beautiful I looked. Then, when I got worried about the drawing of the names, he would reassure me that has never happened to a Hardgrove. That it is all fixed to get rid of unwanted people. My mother, clearly not being reassured by his words, would hug me tightly and cry slightly into my shoulder. I always pretended not to notice, so as not to make her embarrassed. Yet, one thing was missing. My grandfather.

Grandfather Harrison always acted stupidly on Reaping days. Pulling funny faces behind my parents, dressing up like a poor man to annoy my mother or making jokes at the Capitol's expense. The last one always sent my parents into a panicked frenzy.

"You are going to get her reaped!" my father would bellow.

Grandfather would just chuckle. "Calm, I'm sure the blokes up in the Capitol have a sense of humour, they know I mean no harm."

He never failed to make me smile on one of the worse days of the year for someone like me. Yet, for three years, I had been without him. Me and my parents never really connected so they didn't know how to make me smile. So, I was just left there with my thoughts, part of me hoping my Grandfather would walk into the room, chipper as always and alive. But life can be cruel.

Beckham Knox, 18

Train Rides

I looked at my mentor, Buckwheat, with a cold expression my face. Rine and Violet sat on the sofa talking about this year's twist. A stupid one at that. The first two made sense but how on earth could they make two people fall in love? They wouldn't they would be forced together against their will for the rest of their lives.

Now, I didn't like the idea of getting married to someone for the rest of my life but I also could not escape the fact that my sister was still with those monsters that kidnapped us. If the person was right, someone who didn't see me as a challenge to get to know was silent and allowed me to do my thing, no matter their gender, I could deal if she was safe. I wasn't interested in any form of genitalia anyway but I guess a boy would have been the best. We wouldn't be forced to have a child together. I couldn't bring a child into the world who I knew neither parent wanted. We could adopt but it wouldn't be my flesh and blood so I would feel better about turning my back. I wasn't father material.

I'd fight through the Games and put up with a fake marriage if I could get my sister free. I wasn't sure what I'd do after but she was my main concerned. This was my way of paying her back.

"You look well fed and clean," Buckwheat sighed, taking off his glasses and cleaning them. "Wealthy background?"

"I don't have a penny to my name," I said dully.

Buckwheat hummed in response putting his glasses back on. "Do you not work-"

"I guess you could say it was work." I looked the dark-skinned male in the eye and his face softened like he had seen the numbness in my eyes before.

"I'm guessing you're already a puppet of the Capitol?"

I smirked at his detective skills. "Pretty much, not saying what kind-"

"You're a muscular, good-looking boy, it could only be sexual." my smirked dropped as I cast my eyes to the intricate carpet. "You know, it doesn't get better when you win?"

"I have someone at home, someone who needs help getting out, otherwise I'd have little interest in seeing your face after this week." I sounded blunt but it was the truth.

Buckwheat shrugged. "So I can expect to see you here in a few weeks?"

I stood from the chair, giving a small nod. "Not for you," I sighed before turning towards the door. It had only been thirty minutes since I had been told I would have to fight for my life between twenty-two other people, I needed a few hours alone.

Violet Hardgrove, 17

Train Rides

I never thought I would connect with anyone in the Capitol. Until I was told about the glass carriage. Our escort said it was used for sky gazing and that was all I needed. With a hurried thanks, I raced towards the room.

I wasn't sure what type of glass it was, the most glass I knew would have shattered. I was frightened of that as the train raced by but after sunset, I had become more comfortable. Now, as I looked up, all I could see was a vast sea of stars.

I must have been alone for a few hours when the door opened, allowing Beckham into the room. He looked at me laid down and frowned.

"Why are you doing that?" he asked, crossing his arms over his chest.

I smiled widely. "Looking at the stars-"

"I get that," he sighed. "But why?"

I waved him over, although I patted the pillows next to me, he continued to stand, just lifting his head back. "I watch them because they are beautiful, I'm not sure what they are but they can tell us so much, even which direction we are going in."

Beckham stayed silent for a moment as he watched them twinkle. "They don't go by as fast I would have expected." he mused quietly. As I watched him, I felt a slight sadness for him, the way he watched the distant lights, he acted like he had not seen stars in years like it was a wonder he hardly ever got to see or appreciate. However, when he saw me looking at him, he grunted. "Go on then," he said, clearing his throat. "What direction are we going in?"

"West," I said bluntly. He looked at me with a confused expression so I continued. "See, there is a constellation, a group of stars called the plow. On the right upper corner, straight across from that star is the north star, it's the really bright one. That is north. As that is facing away directly in front of us now, to the right of the train, we are going West. you must remember the rhyme from school, never-"

"Eat spoiled wheat, North, East, South and West, I know," he said. "It's pretty cool but do you think that will help you in the Arena? What if you can't find the stars?"

I thought for a moment then smiled. "I might do, you never know. There are loads of ways to tell your direction. I can teach you if you like?"

Beckham gave a nod, then a shrug. "Sure," he sighed. "Why the hell not?"

"Sometimes things happen for a reason, some life is just cruel,"