Bloodshed and Tears: The 66th Hunger Games

District One Male Reaping: Raff Strangler

One, two, one, two, one, two, one.

My feet pound against the hard pavement slabs of District One methodically. I run two miles every morning before sunrise, and two miles every evening after sunset. My best time so far is nine minutes and seven seconds exactly. I don't really like running, I would much rather be able to spend those extra ten minutes throwing more knives, but when I volunteer for the games today, I will need to be at the height of my physical fitness. I know I will come home as Victor, bringing pride to my Father and district.

My Father has experienced a lot of awful things in his life. He survived the Dark Days. He was just ten when it was all over and the Hunger Games began. As I grew up, he used to tell me great, gruesome stories about the Dark Days and what he saw. It's been just me and my Dad since I was born. You see, my Mother died whilst giving birth to me. My Father rarely talks about her, and I don't miss her. I can't miss someone I never knew. She's a stranger to me.

I arrive back at the nice, modest house I share with my Father in nine minutes and six point five seconds. I sigh. Although I beat my own personal record, it wasn't by much. Oh well, I'm sure I'm faster than all the other 23 tributes I'll be up against in the arena put together. I let myself in and head straight into the kitchen to grab myself an apple for breakfast. Whilst eating, I head straight up to my room, not bothering to check on my Father, because he is probably already starting to get ready. I run up the stairs, still full of energy, and into my bedroom. I grab a towel from the airing cupboard, throw it over my shoulder and head into the bathroom.

I step into the shower and let the warm, welcoming droplets of water embrace my naked body. I smirk as I imagine the expressions of my adoring district when I volunteer later on this morning. I wash my hair and body, making sure that I lathered in the conditioner properly, so it would not go greasy before I got to meet my stylists. I hate the stupid, priming, shrieking Capitolites, but I don't want them to look down their surgery altered noses at me just because I was too lazy to get the last of the conditioner out of my hair.

Once I am happy with my cleanliness, I jump out of the shower and step onto the rug on the floor. Then, I dry my body and hair with my towel, then wrap it round my waist. I walk down the hall back to my bedroom and go to the mirror. Out of everything, my hair is probably my proudest physical feature. It is short and black, which I always use a lot of gel to style into an elaborate Mohawk going down the centre of my head. It is an unusual hair style for someone in District One, but I'm still very proud of it.

Then, I pull on my smartest shirt, a red and grey checked shirt, and a pair of smart black trousers and make my way downstairs. Luckily, my Father has already left, which saves us having to walk together awkwardly to the Reaping, knowing that I won't be around for the next couple of weeks. I don't know what he's worried about, we both know I'll be crowned Victor and this time in three weeks or so, we will be moving into the biggest house in Victor's Village.

I head out of the door, smirking at the old house which I will never have to live in again, and head down to the district square where the reaping will be held. I sign in and just smirk when they take my blood and take my space in the eighteen year old male section and just nod at all the boys around me whacking me on the back because they know I've been chosen to volunteer, and small menacingly at the people who glare at me because I've taken their chance to volunteer. It's not my fault that I'm substantially better than all of them imbecilles put together.

Then our stupid district escort stumbles up to the stage and rambles on about the treaty of treason and shows some stupid video from the Capitol. The way he stands there watching in awe makes me snort at how stupid and brainless they all are. I swear they all share the one same brain cell. I watch him go to draw the girls name, but before he can wrench his scrawny hand out of the bowl. She saunters up to the stage. I can't wait to wipe the smug smile from her face in the arena.

"For the male tribute - Wren -" he begins.

"I volunteer." I shout out and then walk calmly up to the stage, throwing smiles at some of the girls in the audience. My adoring fans.

A/N Thanks so much to LongLiveKatniss for submitting Raff, I hope you all liked the chapter. There are still some tribute availabilities left so check out my profile for the availability list and the form to submit a tribute with. Thanks. x

DarkHorseBlueNight: Sorry, I read it as infuriated, sort, my mistake! I didn't really like it, sorry. He does have a good voice though, I just didn't like that mash up! Sorry x