"A scar is a healing. After injury, a scar is what makes you whole."

"Ladies and Gentlemen, I present to you the Victor of the Fortieth Hunger Games, Lorayn Alden of District Two!"

Lorayn Alden, Victor of the Fortieth Hunger Games

It still feels as though Payton's blood still stains me. Crimson stark on my suit, my skin, my weapon.

Incessantly, shaking as I did so, I scratch at myself. The skin reddens.

I need to get him off me.

I must.

The pounding of my heart refuses to cease.

I am no Victor. I am a tribute. Forever and always, my heart, my mind, my blood all belong to this arena. I belong to this arena.

"-rayn. Lorayn!"

Something grabs my right hand, and I whip around ready to lash out. Minet grabs my other hand. She stares me down, expression tense, lips set into a grim line.

"Calm down," she says gently. Slight frustration tinges her tone at the same time. "Don't tear your skin apart before we reach District Two."

"It doesn't matter," I snap.

My voice sounds hoarse even to my ears.

Freeing my hands, I scoot away and whatever my mentor says next goes unheeded. Instead, I look around the train carriage. It looks the same as when I headed into the Capitol. Now, I go back. I wish things remained the same. My left hand drifts up to touch the bun my stylist has tied my hair into. I don't know if it suits me or not. I don't know how what I'm wearing looks like on me. Thinking of looking into mirrors and seeing my reflection scares me.

I don't want to know what's in my eyes.

What I will see.

My hands wring the hem of my blouse. The scars I've gotten in the arena remain with me. The Capitol glorifies it. The district will probably fawn over it as battle scars. Me? I bear the weight of the four lives I have taken.

It is burdensome.

It is a relief they remain with me.

I won't forget them. Not as long as they stay on me, mark me.

"Are you even listening to me?" Minet bites out.

"What?" I blurt out before I can stop myself.

"Never mind," she sighs irritably. Apologizing would be proper. I only stare at her.

Silence stretches on between us and I turn to watch the passing greenery. I thought volunteering and winning the Hunger Games would be one of the best things to ever happen to me. I was so naïve. Killing people leaves a mark on you.

It can start to destroy you from the inside bit by bit.

The lifeless body of the young girl from Three flashes into mind. An urge to scream rises. And before I know it, I have my head clutched in my hands, chest heaving as I desperately try to breathe. Something presses in on me, leaves my chest tight. Anxiety claws away at me. I whimper.

Why won't the tears come?

Someone lowers me onto the floor. The contact with the ground brings me back to my senses a little.

"Take deep breaths," a masculine voice instructs. "Inhale, count to ten then exhale."

He repeats his words in a steady voice. I cling to it as if it were my only lifeline. Each breath leaves me a little more panicked though, and I end up clinging onto his arm. I do not know how long it takes but the sudden surge of panic finally ebbs out of me. Exhaustion washes over me. Collapsing in a heap against the sofa, surroundings finally coming into focus, hushed voices exchange words above me and I feel the presence of one of the speakers leave. A click echoes through the empty carriage. Grant suddenly appears in my vision.

"How are you feeling now?"

Oh, Minet left.

I guess even she got sick of me like the escort did.

"Better." My voice trembles.

His brows furrow together. Wordlessly, he helps me back onto the sofa then disappears somewhere. Silverware clinks behind me and he comes back with a cup of hot tea.

"Chamomile tea. It should calm you down more."

I accept it with a small smile. "Thank you."

For the next few minutes, the peace is blissful. I sip away at my tea feeling the tension leave me slowly. My hands grip the teacup tightly. Staring into the clear liquid, I am vaguely aware of Grant looking at me. His scrutiny leaves me shifty. The silence goes from tranquil to unbearable.

"You haven't really been cooperative," he remarks dryly at last.

I purse my he view me as the murderer of his younger brother or the Victor of the Fortieth Hunger Games?

"I've been going with what the Capitol wants of me for a while now," I shoot back bitterly. "Can't I at least do what I want away from the cameras?"

"If by that, you mean wallowing in self-pity, then go ahead. But don't push away Minet who's only trying to help you. You'll face the cameras once you step out of this carriage. The people will be clamouring for your attention, your triumphant smile."

"That's all they ever care about."

"Yes."

He regards me with a cool expression. I killed his brother. Part of me expects him to show a bit more emotions. More anger, resentment. Not trying to…to help me.

"Volunteering was a mistake."

"Why?" He does not sound surprised.

The question unravels me.

"It isn't worth it! What's the point? I don't feel as if I gained anything. I only lost. This… If I knew it would turn out like this, I wouldn't have volunteered at all. I hate it. I hate myself. I hate everything."

"You don't gain anything from the Hunger Games," he grinds out. The controlled fury in his voice makes me flinch. Looking up at him, my eyes meeting his, part of me shrivels up under his glare. "You only get to keep your life. And what have you lost? You didn't lose your life! You didn't lose anyone! Maybe you only lost part of your humanity, fuck if I know. You killed my brother. So don't come and say you regret any of this."

Hands balled into fists, he stands and strides out. Something shatters in the other room and I cringe at the shrill scream of the escort followed by her lecturing.

I killed his brother.

I murdered to win.

I wish I died. Anything to avoid what I face now.

Even before the train pulls into the station, I can hear the roar of the crowd from outside. Anxiously wringing the hem of my blouse, I look to the two mentors for any form of comfort. Only Minet offers me a kindly smile. Grant stonily stares ahead. I suppose I deserve it.

"Remember to smile, darling," the escort chirps.

The train slides to a halt. I take a deep breath. The door opens.

Whatever could have been said to herald my arrival goes over my head. For a moment, I stand in the doorway of the train carriage, lost, then I see myself on the screen enacted somewhere at the back, and I hurriedly plaster on a smile. The flashing lights once left me skittish but I have grown used to them in my time in the Capitol. A calm descends over me and I step off the train. Waving at the people, I let my smile blossom into a grin.

Glancing at the screen to see that I am acting my part well, I turn my gaze back to the crowd to search out my mother. It takes a while but I find her eventually somewhere in the middle. Our eyes meet and she smiles. Somehow, I think she understands even without me saying anything. Then a microphone is thrust in front of me. Swallowing, I prepare myself for the flurry of questions sure to come.

It is an effort not to wring the hem of my blouse.

A few hours later, I step back into my home.

"Mom," I call plaintively, desperation now laced into my voice. For all I've lost… I've not lost her. That much I can be grateful for.

"Lorayn." Her voice is warm as is her welcoming smile.

I rush into her open arms and embrace her tightly, her arms going around me, hand stroking my back.

"Welcome home," she says softly. Silent tears stream down her eyes and through my hair. "We missed you," she says lightheartedly, chuckling a little afterwards. "We missed you."

The words catch in my throat and I feel a lump from in my throat. Letting out a sob, I rest my chin on her shoulder and hug her even tighter. The tears start falling. It feels as though a weight has lifted off my back. I no longer have to hide behind a façade.

"I'm sorry," I cry out. "I'm so sorry. I- I-"

She steps back and I bury my face in my palms. Moments later, something soft presses into my left hand. I take the piece of tissue and wipe my tears away before blowing into it.

"You did what you had to do," is all she says before guiding me to the sofa. "Don't hold it in anymore, Lorayn. You're safe here."

It hurts. It hurts so much on the inside. Now that I no longer have to push all my emotions to a corner, they overwhelm me. I did not realize I bottled up so much. The grief is too much.

"I didn't expect it to be like that," I whisper.

Grief for what I have lost. Grief for what I have done.

"It's not honorable at all. It's just a desperate battle for survival."

I look up my mother through my tears. She places one hand on my back, silence accommodating, eyes prompting me to speak what I really, honestly think.

"I'm not a Victor."

I'm not a murderer too.

"I just wanted to live."

I'm just a girl who was terrified of death.

"You didn't do anything wrong. You did what you thought was needed so don't blame yourself over it, Lorayn." She shifts closer and hugs me, pressing a kiss to my forehead. "Take all the time you need to heal. I'll protect you as your mother."

"Mom," I whimper before burying my face in her shirt, hands clutching desperately onto it.

"I'm here."

And that's all I need to hear.

A/N: The blog link is on my profile. How about a shout-out to Aspect of One for a great prologue?

Before I say anything else, we want to thank everyone for their submissions. We received over sixty submissions, and it was painstaking to select between them. A lot of submissions were excellent, but we had to turn them away in interest of our plot. We apologize deeply, and we thank you.

Here are your tributes!

District One, Luxury
Female: Adelaide Marchan
Male: Cohen Veridie

District Two, Masonry
Female: Shaila Avani
Male: Priston Thame

District Three, Technology
Female: Letricia Kode
Male: Theon Carter

District Four, Fishing
Female: Aelia Paralian
Male: Vice Chevallier

District Five, Power
Female: Metris Plaquerd
Male: Bellamy Glover

District Six, Transportation
Female: Scarlet Marlowe
Male: Thorin Robiquet

District Seven, Lumber
Female: Maisyn Alvera
Male: Halvard Asbjorn

District Eight, Textiles
Female: Tarryn Cheverly
Male: Ren Ardaine

District Nine, Wheat
Female: Kiefer Callistus
Male: Kristopher Runes

District Ten, Livestock
Female: Arleen Gavelle
Male: Declan Whittacre

District Eleven, Agriculture
Female: Elora Valeyn
Male: Abner Demerath

District Twelve, Coal
Female: Aline Carron
Male: Duke Holloway

Please check all the districts, as about 75% of all the outer district tributes were requested to be in Five or Eight, for some reason. Again, if your tribute isn't there, we apologize deeply.

In terms of authors, the author of each tribute will be revealed at the end of the story. Basically, we're not telling you. For our own reasons, we've decided to keep that information unknown until the Games come to an end. If you'd like to know then, shoot any of us a PM.

Which tributes are your early favorites?

Which tributes aren't?

Leave a chart of your opinions if you have the time!

We'll see you soon! Thank you!