Holaaa. First, I'd like to apologize for the long wait… Can we pretend it's only been a few days? Excuse time: I had major writer's block, and once I was ready to write, I wrote half of the chapter, and then my laptop broke down… and is now with my mother. (It's awkward because once it gets fixed she'll read through all my stuff and in Link's reaping [first edition], there was something about fucking butterfaces… And basically I'm dead.) So that right there is my karma for not updating sooner. Anyways, I still don't have my laptop, but my stepmom helped me with converting a document to Word so I could get it on here, and I know you don't care… but now you know.

Before I start, I'd like to thank Vanity's Insanity (Tristen) for helping with my writer's block, QueenOfSwordsAndDaggers (Cat) for getting me to write today with a marriage proposal, and of course shekh ma shieraki anni (Julia) who made the lovely Link Driscoll that I'm writing for you today. Enjoy! Hopefully it's worth the wait, and if it isn't… I'm really sorry. It'll probably be short… But enjoy it anyways.

Link Driscoll, District One

All the girls stare as I spar with the obviously less talented boy before me. And I mean, usually I'm not one to brag, but why wouldn't they stare? I'm a god: the kind that people pray to at night because they've got no one else but a young, chiseled man to put their faith into. I take a quick glance at the girls sitting at the sidelines. At first look, I'd say I've banged all of them before. They're here for seconds, probably… Too bad I hate leftovers.

The blonde twink I'm fighting makes a swing at my jaw and suddenly the fight is back into focus. I don't have much time to react. I just block his hit and attempt to swing my leg up into his side. He catches it. This is an old trick. See, it's obvious that he's about to flip me over and get me on the ground, so I turn before he can make me and sink my other foot into his gut. He doubles over, and I regain balance and push him back, laughing.

"Good fight, bud," I let out a lie that he should consider charitable. It was a terrible fight, because he's so predictable with his moves that… that a girl could beat him! Ha!

Speaking of girls, I look back to the four that are watching me. It's funny because they bat their eyelashes so much, I'd swear they had some sort of condition. A hot guy really does crazy things to girls. I wink at them to really get their estrogen pumping, and one giggles, but I don't pay any particular attention to the details of her features. I've got better things to do than a massive butterface. I walk out of the training center with a small white towel slung around my neck. Today is reaping day, and although I'm sure everyone already knows I'm volunteering, I'd like to keep the image up.

As soon as I get out I see little Cleo standing near the sidewalk waiting for me. She's not exactly what I'd call good for my big career, ladies-man image, but she's my little sister, and the only girl I've ever loved. She gives me a bright smile. At age eleven, she's already just as beautiful as our mom (if not more so, because let's face it: our mom's got a huge mole on her chin that could make a beast whimper at its ugliness). Cleo's thick brown hair blows into her face and I scoop her up, lifting her to my shoulders.

I don't let out a single grunt as I support her weight, and she laughs, tangling her fingers into my hair and leaning forward against my neck. I start to walk towards our house. "So, Cl'o, how was your day?"

"Mm…," she stays silent for a moment, thinking. Every time I ask this question she has to maul it over for a bit, as if to assess how she really feels. "I guess I'm doing okay, even though I know what you're doing today and that makes me sad… This boy in my class says he's got a cousin in Two that will rip you apart. Rip you apart, Link! That sounds scary if you ask me."

I laugh at her naivety. Like anyone could rip me apart, or even try to hurt me… Please. I'm Link Driscoll, and I'm the most untouchable man in Panem. "Really, Cleo, you believe him?" Her legs tense against my hands that hold her in place and with a sigh, I continue, "I've spent every day for years training. And remember when I use to beat up the monsters in your closet so they wouldn't hurt you? It really won't be much different in the arena. Those monsters never left a scratch."

Cleo's entire body moves against mine as she shakes her head, convinced. "You're right. That boy is silly. No one can hurt you."

We round the corner to our house. "No one can hurt me," I agree.

"I'm ready!" Cleo sings, and spins out of her room in a new purple dress that our mom bought her.

"You're the most beautiful girl in the world," I smile down at my sister, sliding a plate of toast across the table for her. "And pretty girls have to eat. Hurry up; Reapings are in less than an hour and we have to meet Mom and Dad there."

She nods and crams the entire piece of toast into her mouth, laughing at the look I give her and almost spitting it up. "That's disgusting," I shake my head, laughing lightly.

"Your hair ish dishcuffin," Cleo mumbles, her voice muffled by toast. I turn my head to look in the cupboard glass. She's right. It's still sweaty and messed up from training this morning. I mean, the rest of me looks great, but there is something off about what's residing on the top of my head.

I point at her, raising my eyebrows. "That it is, that it is. I'm going to fix it now, thanks."

I walk down the hall and into my room. It's wide-open and heavily lit, like the rest of the house. One thing about the Driscoll's: we've never had money problems- probably not even my ancestors from the BC times. I quickly comb my hair back and look at it. Not good enough. My feet tap on their way to my bathroom attached to my bedroom. I could care less about what I'm wearing for this "occasion", but hair is always important. Chicks love hair.

I take the gel off the shelf above the toilet and turn to the mirror on the other wall. I smile at myself. This face is the face of a winner. Always has been, always will be. I slick my hair back with the gel and wink at myself. A winner with great hair.

I walk briskly out of my room and look to Cleo for approval. She nods. "Much better."

"Wipe the crumbs off your face and let's get outta here," I say to her in a rush, grabbing my coat.

"Calm down, Link," Cleo sighs as she slides off her chair. "We've got plenty of time, ya know…"

"I just wanna leave before-" I swing the front door open to see a tall hooded boy standing in the entryway. My words stop as he smiles at me. My eyebrows instinctively knit together as I step outside and shut the door behind me so Cleo won't hear a word. "What the hell are you doing here?"

"What," the boy's smile gets increasingly more maniacal. "Not happy to see me?" His voice is raspy and shows just how much he's been shooting up the past few years.

"Not in the least," I scowl at him. "Told you I did want to see you around here ever again."

A rough laugh escapes his lips. "The boys've been talking 'bout you…," he stuffs his hands into his sweatshirt pocket. "We all know your little sister turned you soft."

"Oh, fuck off!" I shove him back and he stumbles, throwing his hands up into the air and shaking his head.

"I ain't here to start a fight, Link! Just figured maybe…," he looks around cautiously before pulling a perfect-looking needle full of morphling out of his pocket. "you'd be craving a little 'pling… Heard you were volunteering, thought maybe you'd like to get high and think that option through some more."

My eyes dart between his and the needle. I wring my hands, trying my best not to be tempted by this offer. "You're an idiot," he smiles at me again, watching as I buckle down and become nothing but a pile of nerves. "Get the fuck out."

"Please, take it…," the cool glass of the needle presses against my knuckle and I jerk away from it, twitching. "I insist."

"Link?!" There's a knock on the door from inside. "What are you doing out there? Who came to visit?"

"C-Cleo, just stay inside!" I take the needle from him and he laughs, but stops when I shoot him a look of challenge and drop it to the ground, crushing it under my foot.

He looks disappointed. "You bastard."

"Move along now, low life."

He scoffs at me and shuffles away, head down, without even looking back. He should know that the chapter of my life where I spend every second high on morphling is over. And I'm never going back.

Cleo and I walk to the town square where we meet up with our parents. I'm sure they speak- hell, my dad probably gave a 20-minute rant about how to hold myself when I volunteer. I, however, do not listen, and I shake off my parents to go register for this year. Cleo, being 11, walks off with my parents after waving to me.

Routinely, I get in line immediately after the annual pinprick. This year, it's the eighteen year olds that I stand with, and I hold my head higher than the rest, because this year I'm the lucky one that'll be returning as Victor. The mayor walks on stage, but the crowd continues to talk among themselves, although most of the small talk centers on the Games. The mayor drones on for a bit before Telina takes his place, fluffing out her long, golden-colored hair.

She scans over the crowd, smiling like she just got Botox, and does not hesitate to pull out a girl's name and lean in towards the microphone. "And the female tribute for District One this year is…"

Suddenly, a cry of a volunteer rings through the crowd, and whispers erupt everywhere. I almost laugh when I see who it is. Dia Verlac, the district's slag. I wolf whistle as she takes her place on stage and tries to act all high and mighty. It doesn't work; all she looks like to me is a weak orphan who sells her body to buy drugs. Oh wait… that's exactly what she is.

Finally, after the whore's five minutes of fame, Telina moves on, and her fingers dip into the boy's bowl. She calls out the name of a boy from my class, and he hoots and hollers until I clamp my hand down on his shoulder. "I volunteer."

This time, all eyes are on me. Everyone looks me up and down as if analyzing the latest fashions in a clothing store. I step up onto the stage with a confidence that wasn't so newfound. Telina hands me the microphone. "I'm Link Driscoll."

"Link Driscoll!" She repeats like the parrot she is.

"And if you think this ho is gonna win over me…," I look to Dia. "Well, you're going to have a blast watching these Games, 'cause I'm in it to win it."

Well, that was longer than I thought it'd be… Also a lot more pointless than I thought it'd be. Ah well, until next time… Hopefully the next chapter won't take so long. Ta ta!

-Maddie