Sweet, District 7! My brother calls this the human beaver District. LOL. A little more than half way through the character intros! Lets hope I can finish all these quickly an that things in my life slow down a bit. I have a few things to address in this author's note. So if you're not already reading, please read!

First, I wanted to start suggesting songs for you guys. I'm a huge Rush and classic rock fan, and am usually inspired by those types of songs, so please tell me if you're into stuff like that. Rock usually has mind-provoking lyrics. Oh, and if you don't know who Rush is, go you tube them. Your life isn't complete until you do that.

Second, I wanted you all to know I would love to hear your ideas for arenas and mutts. I already pretty much have an arena mapped out, but if you have something really good then please share. I'm a little stuck for mutts, so PM or review me some if you want.

Third, I want to hear your thoughts on my idea for the Quell. You guys have been ninja quiet on that topic, so I want to hear if you like or despise the idea. I'm not going to change it, but I just want to hear your thoughts. xD

(Sofiel Adrayscaus D7)

I stare blankly out the gleaming glass window. A barren landscape blinks back at me, and I feel my tear stained knuckles slam against the mahogany cabinet repeatedly.

The trees. How I miss the security they provided. They almost seemed to form a firm, impenetrable wall. The terrible, inconvenient emotions were forced away when I was among rough bark, musky air, and moist leaves. Sadness? Whisked away. Fear? Unthinkable. I was in peace with myself there.

Conflict poured out almost immediately when I was forced into the train. It was so artificial, with its gleaming televisions, polished hardwood floors, and elegantly carved tables. How many trees were sacrificed to create a vehicle now dead tributes could cry, reminisce, and strategize their final moments of life in?

I take a moment to simply calm my rage, forcing myself to think of something else. I wonder who back home would miss me. Not many, since seldom I speak or interact with anyone.

My family might miss me, if they weren't dead. Dead, dead, dead. So many people dead. Where would they all have gone to? It's stupid to begin crying again, considering I had decided to get over it and try to keep myself from starving on the streets.

There was Marylin, surely she would miss me. If she were taken away, like myself, I couldn't even bear the thought. Marylin, the girl that was my only comfort when no one else cared to glance at me.

"If you won't win it for yourself, Sofiel, win it for me, okay?"

Her words ring softly in my ears and it finally hits home. It was unquestionable. As much as I couldn't stand the present, I would need to win the Games for Marylin, at least. My only friend, although she could be counted as a sister, the way she cared for me.

My anger at the situation had still not cooled, despite my newfound confidence. Picking up a delicate vase, I hurled it straight at the television. The colourful porcelain erupted on my target, pieces of it showering down everywhere. A ragged crevice had formed into the electronic, stretching along its endless width.

My stringy black hair swishes in my face as I lunge upward to the extravagant lighting fixture hanging from the ceiling. I quickly let go as it crashes onto the bed and litters the floor with sparkling crystal. A sharp shriek of triumph escapes my lips.

Before I pull the large mirror from the wall, I catch a glimpse of my reflection. My strange gold eyes are enlarged, my hair is tangled and matted, my arms and cheeks are creased with bloody scratches. It doesn't faze me in the slightest, it almost gives me strength. May as well get used to what I'll be looking like in the arena.

The gleaming glass smashes easily, but the hard gold rimming the mirror finally dents after dropping around five times. I'm relieved and incredibly surprised that no one has heard me yet, until a crowd of people are flooding into my room. Attendants with various cleaning equipment, the District Seven escort, and my potential mentor.

"Leave it." I whisper to the people, who are already beginning to collect the fragments of scattered glass.

"Oh, goodness!" the escort, Corianna, gasps, surveying the seen with wide eyes, "This is really quite the mess. You must have it cleaned immediately!" she chirps, but then she arranges her features into a pout. "The civilized tributes in Districts One and Two would be much more courteous! I bet the salary for their escort is much better as well…" she mumbles to herself, giving me a glare. I simply turn around, and when she trots out of the room, I order the white coated attendants, once again, to dismiss the clutter I had spent so long creating.

"And dinner begins in two minutes, Sophien!" Corianna pipes from rooms away. I grimace at her mispronunciation of my name.

I tiptoe over the debris, and wander along the carts until I am directed to the dining cart. I feel nauseous again, just like the first time I stepped foot into the train.

Everything is wood. Wood floors, tables, so much more. Are they trying to humour us? Look what we do with all the trees you work so hard to get to us. More helpless children get to sit here as well, having to pretend they're having a good time.

Everyone in the room gives me a look shock. Corianna must have told them what I did by now, but my appearance must be unnerving. Good, something to be happy about.

My District partner, Slate and I hardly speak at all while our mentors and escort jabber away, asking me questions in sharp, quick voices. I reduce it all to a buzz, and stare down at my plate. Anywhere but the rest of the room. Chewing the pink steak, I try not to enjoy my meal. It's made by the Capitol! I tell myself. It's trying to trick you!

But I finally give up. This is the first full meal I've had in weeks, months even.

"So, what were your lives like back in District Seven?" a male mentor, Jonah, asks.

The absurdity of telling these strangers my life story is so ridiculous I almost spit out my water. I give a small shake of my head, glaring at him. It means, No, I'm not going to tell you something you're going to forget about two minutes from now. Especially considering what I live through.

No one else speaks to us, as it is a lost cause. It has become crystal clear Slate and I did not sign up to be pestered by perky Capitol made, or Capitol transformed people.

After dinner, we are forced to sit and watch the reaping with Jonah, Corianna, and the rest of the mentors. Rarely, someone would make the occasional comment, but the air quickly fills back to a stone cold silence, apart from the voices on the television.

When I am finally allowed back to my room, I tuck myself under the covers. Pieces of

Ragged crystal are still scattered on the bed, but I hardly notice them. It only takes a few more seconds until I'm shrieking and sobbing for at least two hours. My voice then cracks and goes hoarse, so I hurdle a small glass clock at the corner of the ceiling.

Just for good measure.

(Slate Blackwood D7)

I sit stiffly in a suede armchair, immersed in my thoughts. Why couldn't they be the ones sent off to a painful death?

My terrible excuses for parents surely must be celebrating my disappearance from their household. Or maybe they wish they could be the ones to murder me brutally, to feel my hot blood drip through their hands. I would wish that and so much more inflicted upon them. How many times had they tormented me, delivering powerful blows to my limbs, bruised and tainted my skin beyond repair?

The reaping was quick and prosperous. A girl with hunched shoulders and pained eyes was chosen as my female counterpart; she gave off an aura of silent strength, and seemed to be boiling with anger. When I was chosen and took the stage, it was already evident I would not be missed by anyone. At least that Sofia had one person, a best friend that cared for her, or would mourn her passing. Damn her. Damn those people who weighed themselves down with that large, terrible component in life. Relationships. Friendships. Acquaintances. Family. Avoid hurt and depression by never trusting anyone but yourself.

I longed for the rustic steel of an axe to grip in my palms. And for the open wilderness. It seemed so open, so unexplored. I despised when the landscape became raw, and dead. How vulnerable it felt.

Every now and then I would observe the woods. They stretched so far, it almost seemed unreal. Were there areas like this further from here? Away from the Districts? It would be bliss, to start a whole new life amongst the trees, alone from all people. Just myself, the forest, and wildlife. I kept my eyes closed tightly, letting the images of lush green spread throughout my mind.

I wouldn't let myself survey the room I am confined to again. It was suffocating me, being so small, and commercial. Shaking my head in disgust and prying open a window, I breathed in the clean air. The landscape was progressing to a plain, but I simply ignored it and invited the open space.

The next hour was spent hanging over the window with my eyes shut. I could almost trick myself into believing I was still in the woods of District Seven, if I tried hard enough. It became harder and harder to relax as loud pangs echoed from the room beside me, followed by primitive shrieks. I simply dismissed the noise, as increasingly odd it was becoming.

"Slatter! Meet us in the dining cart!" A Capitol woman squeaked in her enthusiastic tone. I was tired of the stupid woman not having the decency to say my name properly.

Seething to myself, I slammed the door behind me and found my way around the train. My District partner had not yet arrived, and I was squeezed between two mentors, directly across from our escort, Corianna.

"You should see the mess that Sophien girl has made! It's disastrous! The chandelier is broken, the television cracked, the mirror toppled over! How uncivilized!" she gawks in a disapproving tone, "The money she has wasted!"

I come to the conclusion it must have been Sofiel who created the noises I heard earlier. Just then, she enters the cart, her appearance absolutely dishevelled.

The rest of the night is spent eating a meal of seasoned steak; cheese filled bread, and buttered beans. I've never had much of an appetite, even for Capitol food, so I pick at half of my plate, Corianna giving me dirty looks, which I return gratefully.

"So what were your lives like back in District Seven?" a man says, trying to break the silence. Anger shoots through me immediately, and I glare at him, my muscles tensing. This man isn't interested in getting to know me. It's all to make him seem more desirable, for us to compliment him on television. Not in a million fucking years will I give in to such shallowness.

Clenching my jaw and staring ahead, I drone them all out in an attempt to grasp my last bit of sanity. Speaking to these idiots would not help my cause.

Just keep remembering what matters. You are the only person who understands what you go through. Trust only yourself.