I own the Hunger Games. Seriously. Suzanne Collins has decided to write fanfiction with grammatical errors. It's so obvious now! Sarcasm aside, now for the 6th Chapter! I had a dream about this one, and the main event, and have incorporated it into the story! Hope you like it!

The Bloodied

My day just keeps getting better and better. Right now I'm waiting, extremely bored, for the rest of the tributes to arrive. District 4 is one of the closer districts, and so now I have to spend more of my time waiting. I've already waited for 3 hours and still, only 54.17% of the tributes have arrived. Yes, I actually listened to maths in school, instead of spending my time drooling over Willo Grinth in the year above (A certainboy Nymph had a crush on). The tributes from 1 to 6 are here, as well as the son of the mayor from District 9, who is waiting nervously for his sister to arrive from the remake centre. He looks awful. Though I really can't talk, seeing as I'm wearing a towel. He's dressed as a piece of wheat, his blond hair has been styled vertically up, and his skin seems to have been dyed a pale yellow, making him look even more sickly and nervous than normal. I feel so sorry for him. He's the son of a mayor, he's probably never had the chance to learn any skills which would help him survive. He probably though he didn't need any too, as well as his sister. Mayor's children never normally get reaped, which makes me feel suspicious, did the mayor do something to upset the Capitol? While I'm musing all this, I realise that I have been staring at the boy, who has also noticed this. I give him a little wave and he jumps slightly, almost falling out the chariot! Surprised I look away, all I did was smile and wave! It's not like I threw a knife at him! Even if I had, I'd probably have missed him anyway. It dawns on me why the boy jumped; I'm tall, from a 'teer district and I was staring at him moodily, though I think he may have mistaken my boredom for hatred. This furthers my resolve not to join the 'teers. I don't want all the other tributes to hate me. Why though, the small, logical part of my brain asks why? You're going to have to kill them, so why can't they hate you? I ignore my brain's logic and stare around the room. Waiting.

"Bored?" Kai asks me, smirk on his face as usual.

I adopt what I think is a dignified expression, until the girl in the chariot next to me, the one from District 1 laughs at me. "You look like you've swallowed a lemon. Whole".

I scowl in her general direction, and she brushes her golden hair over her shoulder, out of her eyes. She obviously didn't insult her stylist. She's wearing this headdress thing which has strings of gold orbs falling off it, mixing with her sheen of perfectly straight, golden hair. I'd say the stylist dyed it if I hadn't seen it yesterday, at the reaping.

"Yeah" I tell her, in an offhand manner. "What is a lemon anyway?" I add.

The girl snorts "Like an Orange, or do you not know what that is either?" This comment creates a vivid image of the yellow fruit I ate on the train here. I decide not to spread that piece of information with the girl.

"I know what Oranges are" I tell her "In fact, they're my favourite, and I've probably eaten way more than you" This may be childish, but it is probably true. Sort of. I ate what seemed like 100 on the way here. She laughs again and the boy next to her in the chariot smiles in a way that sends shivers down my spine.

"Now, now girls, don't fight" he says. He looks at the girl next to him and smirks "You'll have time during the games Copia." The girl, who I now know is called Copia, laughs again, and drapes her arm around the boy's neck and whispers something into his ear and the boy grins happily. I realise that my view of her as a Siren seems completely justified. She has her male tribute wrapped around her little finger. If Loki (The teer' from 1) was a creature, he'd be a troll. Or perhaps a giant. He is massive, with great, hulking arms that hang aimlessly by his sides. For all the hour and a half I have known him for, his expression has stayed in the same gormless expression, except for the grin a couple of seconds ago, and that was pretty creepy too.

My feelings of distaste towards him must have shown in my face because Loki looks at me and says "What are you looking at, Shower Girl?"

I give him a pitying look for what must be the crappest nickname in the history of crap nicknames. This just seems to make him angrier.

"Hey, her outfit's not too bad" a voice from another chariot informs me.

It's the 15 year old District 2 tribute, Nyx, the twin of the Victor, Hemera. She's a head shorter than me, but her hat-thingy makes her look taller.

"At least you're not dressed as a pick-axe," she says, miserably.

She's wearing a brown tube which a long, grey hat that is threatening to fall off. I snort. I may be one of the more ugly tributes, no point denying it, but at least I'm not dressed like a piece of mining equipment. Nyx introduces herself, as well as her district partner Camulos, who looks exactly like Loki. If I didn't already know that you can't move between districts, I'd have said that they were twins. We talk idly about life back home, and I make up some story about training myself as I thought the schools weren't that good. This makes 2/5 of my companions look impressed, and I pray beyond belief that no-one pays much attention to me tomorrow at the training centre. I'll just have to stay to the passive places, and say I already know it all or something. Or maybe I'll be a natural. Fat Chance, I'm not a natural at anything, I have to spend time learning new skills. I can memorise things well, so I'll just do plants or something.

I spend time thinking about what to do tomorrow, adding to the conversation when I feel it is necessary. Though I spend most of the time silent, I do learn some other tribute's names, mostly by eavesdropping. The boy who jumped when I looked at him is called Dou, and his sister, who arrives around 5 minutes later, is called Demeter. The hulking girl from 11 is called Pomona, and she spends most of her time talking to the boy from 12, who is extremely attractive. I do not catch his name though. The only other person I learn the name of is the ghost-girl, Mendeina, who spends her time staring lazily at a wall. The other tributes slowly arrive, some looking ridiculous, some reasonably good, some downright terrifying (the one's from 10 are dragons. I mean seriously! What has livestock go to do with Dragons? The dragons come with what I think are mini flame-throwers. There's an entertaining moment when Demeter (also dressed as wheat) gets her hair set on fire by the male dragon, causing the tributes surrounding them to scream, and all the 'teers to laugh. District 5's chariot is right next to 9's, and the tiny boy shrieks and falls out of the chariot, causing more gales of laughter from the 'teers. I stand by looking awkward, as it seems like the fall alone could kill the boy. Stop caring Aal I tell myself firmly If I have to be alive by the end of this, he'll need to be dead. It's better if he breaks his stupid neck now, less painful than if the 'teers find him. This is not the most entertaining thought, so I quash it, and continue my idle talk with the others.

I hear the anthem before we go. As District 4, we go relatively early on. Sadly, because of this, we are forgotten; District 12 has an advantage over us in this department. That is probably the only advantage that they have over the other districts though. They've only ever had one victor, ever. They never make a splash at the ceremonies anyway, though I shouldn't really be making comments about outfits though, bearing in mind what I am currently wearing. District 1 goes first, and I can hear the cheers from the outside of the door and I feel my knees shake somewhat, I am really nervous right now, my first time to make an impression.

District 2 leaves now, and Nyx gives me a little wave. Camulos ignores me completely. IS it just my imagination or does the cheering subside somewhat when they crowd sees the two pick-axes from District 2. Us 'teer districts normally get better stylists than that. I pull my towel down regretfully. Why did I have to insult my stylist? A couple of minutes after that, the two tiny ones from District 3 almost fall backwards when their chariot jolts forward. My pulse rate increases to what seems like a billion bpm. Kai is saying something, but I can't hear him over the sound of my thumping heart.

"What?" I ask him. He points at Lyna, who has appeared quietly, without me even noticing. Next to her is Hydrao, who's talking to Junia, my stylist. Junia seems to be regaling the tale of my rudeness to Hydrao. Hydrao looks worried and catches my eye. He mouths to me, and sadly, I understand Every. Word. He. Says. He mouths again, in case I missed the first time.

'What were you thinking?' Fresh waves of anger shoot through me, exactly because I wasn't thinking, I don't think when I get really anger. But it had nothing to do with him. He had no right! I may be overreacting, but I really don't care right now. I'm going to be dead in a week. I am fuming so much that I do not even notice the jolt of the cart as it starts to move forward, pulled by the two palomino horses in front of me. I am out in the crowd, and as I look up, I see my face on the screens. I look… Angry. Murderous. Mad. Not like me. People are beginning to scream my name, and Kai's, and I ignore them.

To my left I can see a group of citizens with their skin dyed gold and all of them wearing a shirt with the number '2' embellished upon it. These are the people who sabotage the competition so the ones that the ones that they sponsor will win. They should be outlawed but they make the opening ceremonies more 'interesting'. They shout at the other tributes, but that's about it. Though last year, someone chucked stones at the District 12 tributes, knocking them out cold. They got caught though. I think. I hope. I look at one of them, who's currently screaming obscenities at me and about me, and he catches my eye. For some reason this seems to make him angrier than ever, and his eyes dart around, focusing on the glass railing next to him. He looks at me.

Oh no I think angrily you are not going to do this. I will kill you if you do this. Sadly, he appears not to be telepathic. He reaches out and smashes the railing at the end, creating a glass stick, more than 1 metre long. The sound of the glass shattering is muffled and unnoticeable by the cheers from the crowd. Only I am noticing this. Holding the glass like a spear, he throws it, straight at my face.

I do not have time to duck, so I raise my hand to try to deflect it. The sound of it shattering into millions of pieces against my skin is inaudible under the screams from the crowd, but whether they are of fear or excitement I cannot tell. Knowing them, I'm guessing excitement. Fury courses through my veins, filling me whole. I clench my hands by my side. I feel something hot dripping down the back of my head, but I feel no pain. I look at my hands, and hold them up in wonder. They are bleeding. A lot. I need to do something now. To show them. Show them all. Now. I look at my bloodied fingers and lift them to my face.

The crowd quiets somewhat, as though in wonder. The quiet ends as soon as I draw my fingers across my cheeks, into a bloody war paint. It is as if an bomb has gone off. Shrieks and cheers fill the space around me. A shard of glass is at my feet, bloody, wet and warm. I bend down, pick it up and place it in my hair, as if it was a flower. I then rub my hands against my white dress, staining it crimson. I want to do more, but I do not know what to do. Drips of hot liquid are falling onto my shoulders from somewhere and I wonder vaguely whether the man had thrown coffee or something. It smells. I smell. I smell of metal, tangy and bitter. I glance back to the crowd, every person there is attempting to catch my eye, the man has gone, melted into the crowd like he has shattered like the glass. I glance back up at the screen, which still shows my face (it should really have moved onto the ghost girl from 5). I am a warrior. I am bloodied. I am a madwoman. I am most certainly, most definitely not me. And this thought only makes me madder.

I want to write more! But I need sleep! I know this is probably way too dramatic, but don't worry, 'tis but a flesh wound and it wasn't even glass! You'll have to wait for more if you want to learn more! One more thing. Do you see that blue button beneath this. The one saying 'review'? Yes. Each press means you will get sent a virtual Cookie. Do you want a virtual Cookie? You do? THEN CLICK THE BUTTON! FOR ALL OF OUR SAKES! To a more sane note, I am sorry if this was too dramatic, I did say it was from my dream and I had eaten a lot of cheese before bed. Cheddar. Cathedral City to be precise. Anyway, point being REVIEW! REVIEW! REVIEW! COOKIES! REVIEW! CHEESE! REVIEW! REVIEW! REVIEW!