-Rachel Turner, 16- Emrys Holmes-

I wake up shivering.

Yeah, I'm cold, but I have a roof over my head. That's all that matters at this point. Even if it's not great, it's shelter from the cold and the rain. Which is more than some can say for themselves. Trust me, I've been in that position too. In fact, that's how it usually is. But the butcher I work for insisted I stay for the night, because it's reaping day today and at least one night of my life shouldn't be spent in hell, right?

Ha. As if anything could pacify the horror of the Games.

I wake up, glad I'm not outside because I could hear it raining like none other. I get up and see my reaping clothes there, folded up for easy transportation. You never know when you might need to bolt.

Next to my clothes lays my sword. It's… Not much of a sword, and it cost me everything I had. But after my sister was reaped, I had to be sure I didn't share her fate. If only my brother hadn't decided to waltz out and marry someone rich just so he could drink. I wonder if I ever crossed his mind, when he decided to disown us and go. I wonder, but I don't want to know. I'm such a fucking masochist.

I pull my bushy black hair back into its usual ponytail and get dressed for the reaping, in the nicest (though crinkled, battered, and hand-me-down) clothes I have.

I twist my mother's silver bracelet around my wrist. The last memory I have of her, before my innocent parents were both wiped out in a riot that they had nothing to fucking do with! I'm just a little bit mad about that, of course. Just a bit.

After my parents were blown to tiny fucking pieces, my sister, brother and I were left on our own. We had to fight for ourselves in an unforgiving world. After all, District 10 isn't fucking District 1. It's not even District 5 or 6. No. We're one of the "outer" Districts. And in the Capitol, "outer" is synonymous to "glaze over completely even though we do all your fucking hard work for you."

My shoulders and neck still ache and whine when I turn my head because of all the huge-ass bags of meat I have to carry all the time. Sometimes I wish I had a better job to do, something that didn't break my back every day, something that didn't hurt so much all the fucking time. But no. I won't resort to shoveling shit if I can help it.

The butcher was nice enough to give me a job, and he's nice to me. He wants the best for me but at the same time he hasn't tried to pry into my home life. Not that I have any home life anymore, since they're all gone, one way or another.

I will not forgive the Capitol for what they've done to me. That's why I have the sword, of course.

There's a tiny, old television down there, one of those ancient ones with the glass over the screen that doesn't need a projector. When I turn it on the picture comes on with black and white static, but I see the face of Zander Smith, the old dog from the 40th Games, looking old and jaded next to the other Victors that are going to be mentored this year. He gives the camera a glare with one of his eyes, the one that isn't covered with an eyepatch.

The other mentor from 10 is Aleah May Meyers, who won slightly more recently, the 69th Games. She looks much softer and sadder than Zander. She's not strong or powerful like the District 10 tribute should be. My sister was 20 times the tribute that bitch ever was, and yet she's gone. Funny how that works, right? I think it's just fucking hilarious.

I turn off the TV forcefully, resisting the urge to break it because it isn't mine. I'm still a guest in someone else's house. This is one night I have a roof over my head, and I can't shatter that generosity, unlike some other entity that has thrown away the efforts of hundreds of fucking people!

I pick up the sword from where it lays on the ground by my side. I'd given everything for it. Everything but the one family heirloom I have left. I stroke the silver bracelet with my finger, and my hand starts to shake a little bit with rage. Rage at the Capitol, and all that they've put me through.

I swing the sword with all my strength, crashing it against the concrete floor of the room and causing a satisfying crashing noise.

"Rachel!? Are you alright?!" Shit, he heard that. I may be no good at the weapon, but at least it feels natural to hold it in my hands. At least I'm one step ahead of the others. I wish I could move to a Career District, be surrounded by people that spent their whole lives training, but of course not. I'm in the outer District hell. Nothing we ever do will get us money. It's pointless. What, do we have to build a fucking Training Center!?

"I'm fine," I say with a slightly louder voice than usual. "Accidentally dropped something, that's all."

"If you want some breakfast, I saved some food."

I pull my ponytail tighter as I go upstairs to where the butcher has some stuff on the table for me to pick at. I blink, surprised.

"You don't have to do that," I mumble, staring at the food. It's something to eat. I take some of what he had and give the rest back to him. "I left the rest of my stuff down there but I'll get it after work today."

"That's fine."

"I want to get a couple hours in. Of work. Get some pay. Before the reaping. I'll change back into my casual clothes."

"No. I'm not opening up until much later anyways. Have some free time for yourself." I nod, but don't know how to tell him I don't need free time before the reaping because I have nothing. No one to see, nothing to do, I can't even shop because I'm broke. But I don't need him knowing how incredibly desperate I am.

We sit in silence for a little bit before I clear my throat. "I'd better be making my way to the reaping."

He nods and I leave him.

I walk out on the dusty path, kicking rocks ahead of my feet as I go and sliding my feet on the pebbles. The reaping doesn't start till 12:30, but I wanted to get out of there. I don't like to feel like I'm intruding. I wish he would've let me get in some time. More time, more work, means more pain, but also more money. And more strength. After all, what's the best way to spite the Capitol? Be famous and then destroy them. After all, fame is important to them, of course. Their Victors, their Games, that's what make things run smoothly. If a bad seed were to destroy everything, it'd be the happiest day of my whole life.

I walk for a while down the trail. The wind blows, the grass sways, and I kick dust puffs up into the wind. It's mostly silent around this time, which I appreciate. I'm not exactly well-liked.

I walk in circles, reliving the day my parents died, the day my sister was killed on TV and I was forced to watch it, the day I decided I would do anything to make sure the Capitol knows how much we hate them, even if it means self-destruction. I'm not afraid of death anymore, because it's not like I have anything to lose. I've wasted my time, I've had it all taken from me. It wasn't fucking fair, but it's all fucking gone. Now I'm left by myself, but I'm not just going to sit around. No way. After all, why not go out with a bang?

I suddenly hear a loud voice and look up. I see a boy there, throwing a stick, and suddenly I'm almost knocked over by the Australian shepherd that runs to get it.

"Astro!" the boy, who looks like a teen, follows the shepherd, another dog close at his heels.

"Sorry!" he calls, pulling the white Stetson over his dark red hair.

"No problem, hun!" I call back. I mean, he's pretty cute. One of the dogs comes over and licks at my hands, and he follows, getting the Aussie to sit and be polite.

"Sorry."

"It's nice to have some fun before the reaping," I shrug, giving him a smile.

"Yeah," he says. "I mean, I don't have to worry about them anymore. Just for my step-siblings, but they kicked me out so…" he shrugs.

"Oh. You're the… Shit boy? Is that what everyone calls you?"

"Yeah." He sighs. "But, y'know, you make do."

"What's your name, doll? I'm Rachel Turner."

"Tarrick Tailor."

"Nice to meet you Tarrick." I smile sweetly at him, patting the Aussie's head. "I should get moving to the Square, but I'll catch you later." I give him a wink.

"Uh… Okay." He's either not into it or flustered. Probably flustered, I think. I keep moving on my way to the Square.

I'm the first one there to be checked in, but eventually the people fill the Square. I'm crowded in with the rest of the sorry 16-year-old girls. The mayor talks for a bit before the escort, Eleanor Smith, takes the stage. Yes, if you're wondering about the last name, she's related to our old 40th Victor. Though you wouldn't know it.

"Howdy y'all!" she says, flashing us all a large smile. "And welcome to our reaping for the 84th Games!" She makes me sick, she's so disgusting. How can anyone be so happy for something like this?!

"Let's begin with the young lady!" I feel a roaring within me, a desire, an ambition, and suddenly I know that I've been talking so much and not acting. I should let my actions speak for me, not my words.

"Jane Bates!" The crowd goes silent, but before the reaped girl can step out of her age group, I shove past the other girls in my section.

"I volunteer!" I shove my way out to the walkway, causing the red-haired girl to stop and stare at me. "I volunteer as tribute!" I run up to the stage, my heart pounding with adrenaline. I don't even realize what I've just done, staring out across the District as Eleanor looks surprised but excited.

"Oh, well I'll be! What's your name then dear?"

"Rachel Turner." My voice booms out across the District and they know I mean business.

"Of course, wonderful! And now, for the boys."

She walks over to the other side and picks out of the bowl.

"Raoul Keaton!" There's a big pause. "Raoul?" A boy stumbles out of the 17-year-old section. His whole body shakes as he starts to the stage. He trips over his own feet and almost falls on his face, causing me to suppress a laugh, my natural reaction in the pressure of the moment. He makes it up to the stage, finally. Eleanor makes us shake hands, and I can feel him shake.

He'd better buck up now, and fast. Or else.

-Raoul Keaton, 17- Josephm611-

My parents won't even take a break for reaping day. It's to be expected, really. After all, it's been years since they've actually had the time or energy to look at me. I know I can't be too hard on them, though. I mean, they work hard, long hours, they're always straining themselves, they never get a break. I can't be mad at them all the time, because it's not like they've exactly had it easy.

Sometimes, though, I really wish they'd remember they still had another son.

I'm convinced that after what happened with Reuben, they decided to just forget they ever had children. No, they forgot they had children before that. They only decided to remember that they had children after Reuben set his eyes on a girl they didn't like. Of course, just forget you had kids until they're doing something you don't like.

I know life is hard on them. I try to be rational about it, really. But I wish they would have recognized us for all the good work we did. I still wish they would give me a compliment every once in a while.

No, though, they've decided to completely ignore me and just take the extra money I can bring in. I still have a room and stuff, it's not neglect as much as it is… Ignoring me. Sometimes in this house, I feel like a ghost. Just because of what happened with Reuben, I'm the one that takes the consequences. I still don't even understand what was so wrong with the girl he was talking to. It's all above me.

I do have one way to be heard though.

First, though, I should probably eat my breakfast and get ready for the reaping. Thinking about the reaping makes me shudder. I only have two years left, but these are the two most likely years to be picked. I have a good number of slips in there, it could easily be me…

Fuck. I need my music.

I hurry up and eat and go upstairs to get changed. I put on a pair of brown dress pants, boots for the walk up in the dirt and mud, and a collared shirt with a bowtie. It's my nicest, that's for sure.

Then, I hurry back to our kitchen/sitting room/single room in the house that isn't a bathroom or bedroom. I go to the case that sits at the perfect distance away from the hearth, to keep it from getting too hot or too cold. The instrument inside is picky, and getting too hot or cold could cause it to break. And let's just say that without it… I don't know what I'd be. Who I am. I'd be nothing.

I take out one of the spare strings that I keep in the case. It's a G string, the thickest of them, that I twisted to make into a ring that I wear on reaping days. When it's not reaping day, though, I leave it in there, just in case my other G string were to snap.

I take the fiddle and the bow. It's really not an easy instrument to take care of, but so worth it. This instrument has been in my family for generations. My father wasn't good at it, but he was just good enough to be able to teach me, and I fell in love. After what happened with Reuben, so fresh in my mind (though it happened three years ago, I will never forget), I could wait to find a girl.

I put the instrument on my shoulder, running the bow across the strings and hearing the ring of the A. My father could never quite tune the fiddle, not to mention how challenging it is without a pitch as reference. I do the best I can and tune the other strings based on it.

Then, shaking and thinking about the reaping, I let out the nerves in a song. Nobody's around to hear it, which only makes it more satisfying. I don't need to bother people with my own emotions, everyone in this District has their own problems. The only thing I need to tell my deepest feelings to is my fiddle, and my fiddle always responds how I want it to.

I close my eyes and make music, not worrying about the gig I have scheduled for next week. I don't worry about anything, I close my eyes and play my favorite songs. I let out the sadness, the pain, the worries and nerves for the reaping, and the fiddle sings my emotions back to me. Hearing the notes I play is the most satisfying part. I stay like that for a while, half-watching the time, but mostly being immersed in my music. I needed this, really I did.

When I notice it's noon, I stop playing, taking great care to put the old instrument away. If it breaks, so does my whole life.

I zip up the case and leave it where it belongs, the perfect distance away so it isn't tempered wrong. Then, I grab a tiny lunch from the kitchen before I go out to find my friends so we can stand together for the reaping.

The walk to the Square takes a bit of time, but the most urban part of the District is bustling when I get there. I walk through the crowds, looking for that familiar messy brown hair or those dark eyes.

I see them walking together, and they quickly call out, "Raoul!"

Sire comes over first, and gives me a hug. He's always been the kind to comfort, and on a day like this, I need it. He lets me go, shaking the brown hair out of his eyes. "How are you doing?" he asks.

I smile, he can't know how I really feel, he's got much more important things to be concerned with. "I'm okay."

"It'll be okay," he says. "The odds are miniscule."

They're still there, there are still odds, but he's right, they're not very high.

"Even smaller for me," chirps Drake, "And it's my last one!" the 18-year-old gives us a smile but sinks at seeing our expressions darken. "But I'm sure we'll all be fine," he adds quickly.

"Yeah," sighs Sire, but he quickly smiles again. "We'll be fine."

"I was just showing him around the Square," says Drake. We don't get to come to the District nearly as much, but Drake lives here and sometimes he's even able to get himself treats. I'm not starving, but I often don't eat as much as I should. At least it's food, but… Both Sire and I wish we were that fortunate.

"Want a piece?" he shows me a cookie he was able to get from the bakery.

"Oh, uh, sure…" He breaks off part of the edge, smiling and biting into the center as I eat the part on the end. It's quite good, really.

"So then, how's Veeeera?" he asks. Sire suddenly looks interested, overdramatically interested, a teasing glint in his eyes.

I feel my ears burn red, and the more they smile at me like that the more the blush travels across my face and down my neck. "Shut up," I mumble, embarrassed. Both of them know damn well that I'm too nervous to talk to the prettiest girl I've ever seen. Oh Vera. She has black eyes that twinkle, and brown hair that I wish I could pet and run my fingers through. She's hilarious, very snarky, but at the same time she's so sweet and helpful.

Ugh, I can't get her out of my head. But I totally wouldn't want her to. Not to mention that playing love songs at weddings and parties has become so much easier now that I know the feeling. Now if only I had the balls to actually talk to her…

"Hey man, you should just go for it. You're great!" Sire pats me on the back. Drake quickly nods.

I sigh a bit. They really don't get it, it's not that easy. "Yeah, right." I still have time to build up the courage. The last thing I want to do is talk to her when I'm not comfortable with it.

Together, the three of us go to the reaping. I see Vera in the crowd, but the next time I look she's disappeared into the crowd. Sire and I say goodbye to Drake, who heads to the 18 section while Sire and I stay together in the 17.

The mayor speaks but the District doesn't pay attention until Eleanor Smith takes the stage, showing us the video and going on with that reapings in that weird accent she uses. Sure, around here you'll hear the occasional "howdy," but honestly why do people make such a big thing out of it?

Eleanor goes over to the girls' bowl. I look into the crowd of girls and my eyes immediately find Vera, my heart pounding for her. What if she's reaped? Would I have the courage to tell her goodbye!?

Eleanor picks a name and reads. "Jane Bates!" I release a sigh of relief. I feel bad, of course, horrible for the girl that's reaped. Suddenly, though, something completely unexpected happens.

"I volunteer!" Seriously? This girl is nuts.

She goes up to the stage, taking each step at a time and looking strong and confident.

"Oh, well I'll be!" gasps Eleanor. The reaction is sick. It's all sick. The Games are sick. Not like any of us can change that though. "What's your name, dear?"

"Rachel Turner." She sounds confident. So they aren't related… She wants to go to the Games because she wants to. She's insane.

"Now for the boy." I wish she'd stop using that stupid accent. She goes over and picks out a name. Sire takes my hand and squeezes it. I hold my breath.

"Raoul Keaton!" I hear my name, that very familiar name that's mine… And I freeze up. Sire looks over at me, his eyes wide in horror. I can't see Drake in the crowd, but I don't think I really want to.

Suddenly, my hands start to shake. I can't control the quivering that comes in the realization that I'm going to have to go to an Arena. Nobody's crazy enough to volunteer for me. If I want to get back, I'm going to have to take lives. And my fiddle's not going to be here when I need it… Neither are my friends, neither is anyone. I shake and quiver as I slowly release Sire and start up to the stage. I don't feel tears, though… I don't outwardly express my emotions, not through tears, not through laughs… I'm sad, but not showing it. Which is probably a good thing.

Everything is blurry, I can barely make myself move. I can't see where I'm going, every noise is a blur, the murmurs of the sympathetic District members… Suddenly I stumble on something, maybe my own feet. I take a second in the shock, but then keep going. My heart pounds and blood roars in my ears but I make it to the stage, still shaking.

"Shake hands now y'all," says Eleanor, quietly. I feel sick. Rachel shakes my hand with a tight grip.

"Everyone, your District 10 tributes!" We're taken back to the Justice Building.

My parents are the first to visit me. They come together, both of them looking upset. "Raoul…" my Mom takes me into a hug, seeming like she should be doing something, which I'm sure she's convinced she is. She's always up and around, always working and always in action. She hugs me for a bit and strokes my hair, but neither of us are crying.

My father hugs me as well. I understand how he's got such a need for action, though sometimes he acts like he doesn't think we appreciate him. He hugs me and doesn't say much.

It's kind of awkward, I don't really know what to say to them because I still think they were in the wrong for all they did to Reuben, especially now that I understand what it's like to be where he was. I'm the same age he was when he was thrown out, after all, over a girl.

"Love you," says Mom, going around in a circle, messing with her tight bun of hair, and then messing with my hair. Dad nods.

"Love you too," I say. "Keep my fiddle safe for me, alright?" I twist the string around my finger that I'm taking for a token.

"Okay." My father nods. They leave without having to be escorted.

Next comes Sire and Drake, together for support. I hug both of them, tightly. I'm going to miss them so much. They helped me through so much, really they did. I need them to keep me sane, them and my fiddle.

"I'm going to miss you," I say.

"You have to make it back," Sire says, sounding on the verge of tears. "You have to."

"I'll do my best." It's the only thing I can promise them.

"You can do it, Raoul. You really can do it." Drake looks at me seriously, his dark eyes earnest. He isn't kidding or joking, he really means it. "Please."

"I'll do my best." Tears start to fall down Sire's face so I hug him again, and Drake joins in. This is our last goodbye, after all. Possibly forever. Most definitely forever, if I can't kill. If I can't do it… It's a lot of pressure.

"Love you man," says Sire, through tears. He lets out a small sob, which causes my heart to break more but no tears come to my eyes. Drake even gets teary.

"Yeah," Drake says quietly. "It's been good. But the best is yet to come. You have to be there for it, alright?"

"I'll try." It's the best I can do. There's a pause as the Peacekeepers tell us time's up. "Love you too," I say quietly.

Sire leaves, letting out another sob though I can tell he's trying not to, and Drake follows close behind.

I wonder if Reuben is going to come, but I haven't seen him in three years… When he doesn't show, I don't feel surprised. Maybe if I come home, I'll talk to him again.

If.

Eleanor picks me up and takes Rachel and I to the train, and soon we're speeding away from home, away from love, away from laughter, from friends, from music.

-Rachel-

My brother is the first to come in, which shocks me.

"…What are you doing here?" I ask him.

"You volunteered."

"No duh, dumbass! What are you doing here!?"

"You're out of your mind. What, you want to be on my level so bad you felt the need to risk yourself?!"

"Arrogant asshole," I say. "You shouldn't have come here."

"You're just jealous I've got the world and you can't even get a single thing for yourself. You're poor. Like, disgusting."

"You used to be as fucking poor as me! I don't know how you were ever married because you're disgusting!"

"At least I'm not poor."

I'm gonna kill him. I'm gonna kill him right now, I jump on him, screaming, using all my strength, I'm ready to kill him! He yells and clumsily tries to shake me off as the Peacekeepers come in and rip me off of him. He leaves quickly and I grin a bit. So long. Dick.

The butcher appears next, causing me to look up.

"So…"

"I had to do it. You won't understand."

"I don't need to."

We sit in silence for a bit, neither of us sure what to say. I mean, he's the closest I have to a friend here, but even so we're still not really warm to each other.

"You can sell what I left," I say. "I have everything I need here." I twirl my Mom's bracelet around my wrist. He nods a bit.

"Good luck."

"Thanks," I mumble. He nods and I nod back awkwardly.

"You can do it. You're a good worker."

"Yeah. I know. I'm proving a point. But I'll be back. Thanks for the roof, thanks for employing me."

He nods again. "So, yeah. Good luck."

I nod. "I'll do the District proud."

"So you will." He holds out his hand and I shake it. Not much of a friendly gesture, but better than nothing. He walks out without being escorted, and soon I'm taken to the train, ready to go to the place that I hate more than anything else.

A/N: Back at it! Hope you liked this chapter! We're almost done with reapings, so yay! I'm really trying to kick it into gear with this story, because as soon as the reapings are done I'm going to start up another partial SYOT for the 42nd Games! Which I'm super excited for! But, I'm waiting for until I'm done with reapings for this, because writing reapings is getting to be miserable (I mean, I love these characters, but it's the SAME DAMN THING for each one over and over and over again, it's exhausting) and I know if I start something new I'll NEVER get through reaping hell. But I'm still trudging through reaping hell. My goal is to not have my outer District submitters feel duped because of my struggle to write so many reapings, so hopefully you enjoyed this chapter just as much as the previous ones!

Anyways, that's so much talking from me. But, all of the mentors and escorts have been put up to my SYOT blog (link on my profile), and once I'm done with the reapings, I'll make posts about the tributes (with much less info, of coruse). And once the reapings are over I'll start a poll so you can vote for your favorites!

Chapter Question: Same. Submitters, how did you like what I wrote with your tributes/escorts/mentors? Non-submitters, which tribute stood out more to you and why?

Scores:

AbbyCorabby123: 10

A-Bookworm-Named-Steph: 36

Beauty. Is. Strange: 61

Blonde4ever: 62

calebbeers21: 6

Coolgal02: 61

CrissKenobie-the-Numenorean: 51

CptAwesome: 10

Culturalchicken: 2

Dreamer: 377

dreams and desperation: 96

eldergrayskull: 4

elisa. anya: 5

Emrys Holmes: 126

epictomguy: 24

erica1024 (I'm assuming you're the same person who reviewed as a guest named Erica, but let me know if you're not!): 16

fat necrosis: 52

falyn. oliver: 43

xGred-Forgex: 51

GryffindorOnFire: 9

hopefuldreamer1991: 284

Ibbonray: 35

Jalen Kun: 12

Jess: 441

johnsonmiranda70: 6

Josephm611: 107

Kate: 348

Xx-Katerina-xX: 56

Kyoko Rose: 26

Lady Lysa Arryn: 97

LokiThisIsMadness: 86

magicharity: 163

Medium-Indigo (Guest): 60

Music Rules The World: 4

Mystical Pine Forest: 30

nevergone4ever: 2

OncerTillTheEnd: 4

xxPeppermintxx109: 81

Programming: 7

xQueen-of-Applesx: 40

rising-balloons: 80

Rosemarie Benson: 12

Sagerose the Divergent: 10

santiago. poncini20: 96

Seahorse8: 22

seaotter99: 22

Shaunaicecream (Guest): 20

Sinfonian Legend: 415

superneet1214: 6

Skyflapple: 21

ThisWorldWeHate: 17

TyeTheLurker (Guest): 5

the victor of panem: 11

We're All Okay: 71

W. R. Winters: 116