Aston Swifte, District 6, Age 18, Male

"How brave, picking on children. Truly, an award winning feat. Wouldn't you agree, Cain?" I was standing there, arms folded across my chest. I was in a grey coat, holes littered the sleeves, the pockets no longer functioning. As the bottoms were torn. I waited, finally Marcus Cain turned around, lightning speed. His hand still holding the poor boy against the chipped brick wall.

It was after school, the only ones remaining in the courtyard were, of course me, Marcus Cain, a big old ugly brute of a boy, and evidently a little boy, who Marcus had chosen to be his personal punching bag for the day. The little boy looked terrified, he sported the signature pale skin of our District, his brown eyes looked terrified and swollen

"Just shut it, Swifte." He said, returning towards the boy, whose skin around the eye had started to turn an ugly shade of blue, sporting some yellow around the edges. I wasn't sure but if I just craned my head slightly, I could just about make out the start of another bruise, this one probably bigger than the boy's head. It was slightly bloody too. I internally winced, on the outside, my calm and cool facade still remained. Intact and calm. Trying to ease my discomfort, I unfolded my arms from my chest, placing them instead inside my pockets. My middle finger's tip poking out of the hole I had yet to patch back up.

"I'm just saying it hardly seems threatening, and isn't your mother worried how you always come home sporting blood?" Marcus turned around at impossible speed for someone of his stature and size. He dropped the boy who looked gratefully in my direction before scampering off. I had heard the soft crunch from when he had fallen, nothing broken I don't think, just a nasty bruise. He was Limping slightly, I sent one pitiful glance in his direction I was certain he didn't catch. The way I liked it.

It was only when a strong pair of hands lifted me off the ground, my mind following soon after, that I realized just what was happening. I was suspended above ground for a second more, before I felt my body slam into the brick wall. I could faintly taste blood in my mouth, I had most likely bit my tongue or lip during the shock. It took the breath from my lungs, I was winded for a second longer than I would have liked, I tried bending over, but the strong pair of arms around my neck stopped me from doing so. It wasn't a chokehold, I wasn't going to die, that was for sure, but it hurt like Hell.

"Listen, Swifte-" His face turning practically purple from rage. I could faintly see a vein pulsing on his head. "Oh No. You used my last name instead of my first. Now however will I survive. I'm scared, terrified." I said, rolling my eyes, my tone dead flat. His gripped tightened slightly. I gasped a little, but other than that, my face remained passive, neutral. Lots of Sarcasm, I mean Tons of it. A voice whispered in the back of my head, telling me to use more, up my game. And, for whatever reason I listened.

"Swifte-" "And there he goes again! Lord help me. I'm horrified!" The punch didn't even register in my brain until the after effect. It was a mild sting, which grew and grew 'til it made me feel like passing out. I tasted blood, and I could feel the bruise starting to form. "Shut it, Beach Blondie." I was still in shock, blood dripped from my mouth as I spoke, "I'm Platinum Blonde, not Beach, or Bleach for that matter. But I understand, differentiating shades of Blonde is another mentally challenging-" The punches then came by the dozen.

I felt more blood drip from my face, I felt him hit previously formed bruises. Then he dropped me, my coat catching on a the jagged, chipped brick wall, practically tearing it in two. I wanted to cry, it was special, in a way. But ow, my face showed only light amusement, looking morbid in the dark schoolyard, illuminated by the moon, blood dripping from my features. "Had enough, Swifte." But, even bleeding, bloodied and on the ground, I chose Sarcasm. My mouth opened more, it hurt to speak. Yet, I still did. "I'm flattered, I really am. I've always wanted the attention of a sweet boy on me." His face was red, on the verge of purple or blue.

He picked my up once more, I winced slightly as he touched my bruises, ones that he caused. I smiled at him, a smirk, a smug smile, In felt a warm drop of blood fall into my mouth. It tasted metallic, I internally grimaced. But before he could do anything, his fist had been raised, a shout rang across the courtyard, a clean cut voice true throughout the silence. "Stop it, Marcus." Standing there was a girl with brown hair and blue eyes. Her freckles barely showing in the pale light. Standing there was Lexi, my best friend. Who for whatever reason still put up with me, no matter how much sarcasm I bled a minute.

Marcus looked up, he didn't like Lexi, no, no, he hated Lexi. But Lexi was also someone you did not want to mess with, she knew things, he dropped me with a sickening crack. My grey coat soaked with blood, now not enough, a small puddle, not even, starting to form underneath me. The pain was unbearable, but by the smug smile I shot at Marcus you never would have guessed. "You're lucky Swifte. But now I guess we both know who wears the pants in your relationship."

He gestured to Lexi, who was now helping me up from the ground. Steadying me with an arm. I shrugged the question off, but I swore I could see a faint blush gracing Lexi's cheeks. Probably just the light. I barked out a response, "Have fun at your afternoon tea with the third graders tomorrow!" He turned around "I'm going to murder you, SWifte." "I'm practically bursting from the excitement!" I hollered back. He looked about ready to run back and pummel me to the ground, but Lexi shot him a glare, then grumbling to himself he stalked off. I stared at Lexi, giving her a weak smile. Shaking her head, and narrowing her eyes, she glared at me. Still smiling I spoke, "What?" She continued to glare.

"Aston, I was so Freakin' worried! You can't do that to me. And-And when I finally do find you, you're-you're bloodied and looking like you're about to get your face smashed in by Marcus Cain. And all I'm thinking is that you're going to die. And I freak, because you're talking and I see the blood dripping down your face and-" I looked down. "Sorry, but I can't help it." Sarcasm ran through my blood, and raked my bones, it had become a habit, a way, a facade. "Yes you can, Aston this is serious, please just drop the act, I'm worried-" "Well, don't be. Go home, Lex, and go play dolls or dress up or whatever the fuck it is you do for fun." I retorted, my face looking down to meet her eyes, they were blue and striking, I realized with a jolt.

I felt bad as soon as I heard her try several times to start a sentence, but always being choked off or ending it too soon. We fell into a silence, she was waiting for me to talk, I realized. But I didn't. "Aston, please talk to me." She looked desperate. "I-" I started, she looked so vulnerable, I felt my cold face break for a second. "Without the sarcasm, please." I heard her fragile speak say. Her voice was ragged and her nose was tinged red, from the cold or tears I didn't know. And I couldn't look at her then I would, I would drop it. And I couldn't do that, Sarcasm was my mask, my shield, my wall. It had become, sometime over the years, part of me.

"Sarcasm is my religion." I stated, looking at the moon illuminating her face. "Just stop please Aston, I know this isn't you-" I turned to stare at her, she looked so sincere, but the only thing that came out was my shield. "You don't know the first thing about me." I went to turn away, meant to walk home maybe. Then I heard the sniffles, actual sniffles. I turned and I saw a single tear escape Lexi. And I froze, I mean mentally froze. She was crying, I made her cry. I made my best friend, the only person who ever loved me, cry. And suddenly I felt horrible.

"I know better about you than anyone, Aston. Hell, I wouldn't be surprised if I knew you better than you knew yourself. I know how you always tie your left shoe, followed then by your right. How you always twirl you're pencil when you think. You really wanted a cat when you were younger, did you know that? Or remember? You really wanted a job in the Capitol, and every day you would tell me how good you'd be at it. Until one day you came to school, a black eye, it was swollen and I remember wanting to cry, and you told me that dreams were stupid. And I should wake up from mine. You were bullied as a kid, in turn it gave you this determination like no other and pride to stand up for others, because you knew how hard it was to do it for yourself."

"Lexi-"

"I know that when you were younger you desperately wanted a cat, for whatever reason. And then I told you I Was allergic, and you stopped and said you didn't want a cat anymore. And I felt so lucky to have a friend like you. You used to brush my hair for me, because my mom was dead and my dad was never around. So you taught yourself how to do a braid. You used to think sweaters or coats were hot, sweaty and we should really just wear two shirts instead. Your dad gave a you a grey sweater for you birthday, do you remember that? He gave you that ugly, old, tattered, bloodied sweater you are currently clutching like it's your tie to the world. After you dad died in that bombing, you wore it every single day and I don't think you even realized it. I know that Your mother's burns make you uncomfortable because they remind You of just how close you'd been to death."

I just stared, in absolute complete shock. How?

"You avoid her, and now somehow you developed this stupid idea that she hates you. When no one could love you more. After the war you turned into this bitter, sarcastic, hard boy. Because you were scared to open up and get hurt again. Because you knew that nothing hurt more. Youput on this mask, this facade," I gave her a quivering sucked look, my face bloodied, tears prickling the edge of my eyes. They were wide, questioning, scared and terrified. How in the world did she find out? How does she know? I'd done everything to stop anyone from finding out. Upon seeing my facial expression of pure horror, she simply laughed. A cold, sarcastic, anger filled bark.

"Oh, you think I don't know? I can tell, Aston, I'm your best friend. And you it on and it makes you unbearable, because you look and talk so sure and deadpan everything. But when I look into your eyes the only thing I can see is a broken, lost boy wanting some security and love. You're bitter and cold and the war changed you. You used to be sweet and I stuck around because I knew that deep Down you were still that sweet little boy I had met in kindergarden. But I guess, I thought wrong. Because this stupid mask you put on, I think you've worn it for so long, you're starting to believe it's actually part of your face."

I was stunned, frozen, and for the first time in years, I ducked my head because I could feel the tears threatening to spill. I tried to stop them, I truly did. I closed my eyes, but I could feel the wet prickling my eyes. And finally whnI didn't seem to be able to hold it in anymore I felt the first tear spill. It slowly dripped down, before another one followed, then another. And suddenly it felt as though I could no longer control it. So I cried, my tears were spilling rushing out, pooling out.

My breath was shallow and ragged. I buried my face in my hands, because she was right, she was absolutely one hundred percent right. And I didn't want her to see me like this, I truly didn't. I fell to my knees, my sobs the only sound in the blissfully silent environment. I could feel my throat burning, aching from the sounds. They were uneven and uncontrolled, from lack of use. I cried and cried my tears were spilling out, mixing with the blood that was too dripping down my face. Everything I had held in was coming out now, and it as consuming. I cried for my mom, my dad, my sweater, the war, my life, and Lex.

I looked up at Lexi, removing my hands from my face. It was wet, bloodied, it was horrifying in the moonlight. "I'm sorry, I'm so sorry." I shakily went onto one knee, "oh, Aston." I heard her say. She dropped to her knees too, and she just held me. She was muttering words of encouragement, and I cried into her shirt, wetting her pink sweater with blood and tears. And then I straightened myself out, took a breath, still ragged, and leaned in. My lips barely brushing hers, Iheard her gasp, and I felt like I was in Heaven, then I pulled away. I straightened us out, my hands on her shoulders, gripping them tightly.

"You're right, Lex, you honestly know me better than I know myself. And now I also know that you deserve better. You're the hidden Angel among us, and you deserve so much better. I love you, Goodnight, Lex." And then I stalked off. Leaving the girl alone in the courtyard, a single tear sliding down her face, and finally hitting the ground. The silent plop of the tear was the only sound in the startling quiet environment. She stood there, silently touching her lips trying to process what had just happened. And I too felt my tears, my face still sticky. And I wished more than anything in the world to feel happiness once more.

"We accept the love we think we deserve."