DISTRICT ONE:

Ruby Chance

We're All Okay, this ones for you :)

Ruby will volunteer in the Hunger Games tomorrow without a hint of nervousness on her part. Poise. She smiles and her reflection smiles back. Poise. That is her favorite word. It means confidence, intelligence, haughtiness. All things that describe her perfectly.

Not taking her eyes off the mirror for an instant, Ruby picks up the bejeweled knife on the top of her bureau. It sits, innocently, between her makeup and her nail polish, something that would be deemed unusual for anyone but Ruby Chance. She turns it over in her perfect hands, admiring the way the ruby studded hilt sparkles in the exact same way the elegant ring on her perfect finger does.

Still holding the knife loosely, Ruby takes a deep breath. Yesterday was a long day. She closes her eyes. The game, the game, the game. The game is getting harder to play. She spent a day pressing her (fat sack of fucking shit) body to it's limit, her lean, wiry arms hacking at swords until they ached. They shouldn't ache. Ruby snarls at herself, her beautiful face contorting into something else. The face her enemies see before they fall. The stuffing inside the dummies fly apart and litter the immaculate floors of the District One Academy. Her enemies have their minds torn apart. There isn't much of a difference.

Woah nice job. A boy, Ruby doesn't even know his name, walked by. What's your name. Ruby felt as though has squeezed her chest. You don't know my name? Her voice is light as air, but anger sparks her mind. I'm Ruby f*cking Chance. The boy laughs, not knowing the enigma that is Ruby Chance. Ruby smiles, wipes the (disgusting imperfect) sweat off her face, laughs. Her blonde hair frames her pale, heart shaped face and even her eyes lie. They sparkle, clear and innocent and beautiful like the rest of her.

The boy isn't bad looking and Ruby lets her smile freeze in her place, making her look cute, innocent, childish. The sword still hangs from her long, limber fingers, gleaming in the harsh lighting of the Academy. Let's take this somewhere else. Ruby had been reading the boy. The set of his shoulders, the way his eyes scan her figure. Ruby closed her eyes, let the smile play over her face again and the boy guides her to a private location. She blows a kiss at Bennett, who drives her knives through the dummies with too much force.

You're good at this. The line is delivered with a slight purr, her nibbling at her lower lips. She feels validated now, whole. The boy, who has dared to make her feel out of place is clay in her hands, she thought to herself as he locks lips with her and she kisses with passion. She has gotten good at faking passion.

Why did I do that yesterday? Ruby pulls off her shirt and slips into a pink tank top, perfect for running in, trying to avoid the mirrors that seem to be everywhere in her room now. She catches a glimpse of her ribs and it steals her breath away for an instant. Finally, finally, finally. The bones peek out from under the layers of muscle and fat. Imperfect. Undesirable. Uncontrolled. This is the body I should have had all along. The body of a Career. One that does not tire.

She tugs on a pair of tights. She'll go out for a run later, see how far she can push herself. Bodies are meant to be pushed. Ruby thinks of the late night training sessions, wielding a bow, a sword, a knife, late into the night, long after everyone else had left. The clanging echoes haunt her as she drifts to sleep in her silken bed, sliding under the rich dark sheets she never uses. She didn't eat that day, she forgoes food, liking the dull throb of hunger. She dreams of her ribs, her beautiful bones springing forth. She thinks of the boys that are pressed against her, making her feel beauty, at least for the moment.

Ruby glides down the mahogany stairs of her home, the soft sound of her footfalls echoing in the empty, cold halls. The rooms surrounding hers are empty. Amy and Dia are never home much, they try and escape as soon as possible. Jaxon and Mariah (mom and dad) don't mind much.

Ruby enters the kitchen and, her sharp green eyes survey the well stocked cupboards. They have all the food she could ever need, or want, and it angers her. Chocolates and pies and ice cream all trying to poison her... Why, she thinks to herself, gasping heavy breaths, do they tempt her like this.

Why do they have to bring back old memories? She wasn't always as disciplined as she was now. She and Emmica and Sabrina and Nora her very best friends used to run all over the empty mansion screaming through all the fat and sugar they had stuffed in their mouths. Ruby shook her head as she helped herself to a ripe green apple, fighting the urge to gag as the fruit filled her mouth. She has to struggle to swallow. (Why is this happening apples are supposed to be safe foods. Calories I can easily burn away.)

Emmica and Sabrina and Nora haven't changed. They train but they train half heartedly, maybe showing up once a week to maybe throw some knifes go for a short run or something. They mostly stare at the guys there and mock her as she throws herself into training full force. But she isn't paying full attention and stares at them when they aren't looking.

All of them are fat, annoying, and childish, Ruby has decided. But I'm still the ugly one. She tosses the half eaten apple in the trash, feeling a thrill of pride surge through her at her self control. One step closer to beauty. To strength. She stretches, feeling the fat ripple on her stomach and grabs a water bottle before walking out of the door. She planned on going for a short run, to the end of her street, maybe through Jasper Park, but now that seems terrifyingly inadequate.

She's seen her face in the mirror before she goes and reaches out to touch it, feeling the fat that coats her cheeks and her forehead. No one can see my perfect green eyes. Too much fat. Garnet can run forever. Jasper is the best fighter in District One. I have to beat them. Ruby grits her teeth together and takes off at a full sprint, feeling power surge through her Games.

I will win. Her chest rises and falls as she imagines the endless tributes she will kill. They stand right at the end of the street, she just has to keep going. Death is not part of my plan. She will achieve endless fame, glory, money, beauty, immortality. All she has to do is be perfect. Be the best.

Stay strong, Ruby Chance.

The boy blows her a kiss in that dark closet. Her arms tire in the middle of the night. There are dark circles under her eyes. She isn't the best. She isn't perfect. She's falling. She's failing. She's slowing down. She's weak. Falls forward, arms splayed on the pavement.

Lillia Bennett, are you happy now?

TOBIAS MASON

Thanks for letting me change the District, nemetb34!

His mother's eyes are glassy with fever and her hair is dripping with sweat. Despite every window in the room being open; the curtains are fluttering in the icy breeze, her face and skin are red and damp. She's sleeping right now, and something stirs inside the Career at her peaceful state. She looks infantile, as if her bones had shrunk and the skin hangs off her frame like clothes that don't quite fit.

She was beautiful once, her father says as his eyes turn wistful. Tobias has heard this a thousand times before. She stares out of pictures, eyes bright, not feverish but shining. They capture her in a laugh, her golden hair tossed back as she runs through life before tripping and falling, the air and life stolen from her lungs. Tobias will cross his arms, and his eyebrows will arch and his lips will curl back from his teeth. Oh yeah? He is finding it easier and easier to slip into an act, as if the veins and bones that make him up are becoming rewired as he plays the part of Tobias the Career.

His father isn't quite there anymore, so he doesn't mind the way he hurts him. He will still help him at the fur shop, carrying the coats around town, delivering them to richer people who purr and fawn over them as they try them on. Tobias sneers at them as well, and silently tells himself that he will be superior to them someday.

Something twists in his stomach as he holds his mother's limp hand in his own. It's slick with sweat as well, but he holds it in his own, strong and calloused. Tobias is almost afraid that he'll crush her birdlike bones.

"Roman." His mother's peaceful state is shattered as she flips and twists in the bed, tangling the cream colored sheets around her tiny waist and legs as the name of his brother passes her dry lips.

"No, no," Tobias croons, disgusted with how weak and girlish his voice sounds. "Tobias. Tobias is here for you now." He squats next to his mother's bed. Her sickness has ebbed now, he tells himself. But there was a time in the house where it seemed like a dark pall had been cast over it, turning the inhabitants into zombies who could think of nothing other than the death of their mother, the woman who had brought light to their house, who had been nothing but kind to her boys.

Roman had chosen to leave for District Eleven them. Tobias cried when he left, but he had screamed through his tears, accusing his brother of giving his mother the sickness, telling him that he was no longer family. That was when he vowed not to feel, when his world had darkened and people turned to shadows in his eyes. Humans are selfish, cold things. They do not deserve to know Tobias Mason. The world will not tolerate weakness.

"Mother," he says to the cold, dark room. "You have to get better so you can save this family."

Then, the young boy turns and leaves, turning the lights off as he went. He walked down the stairs, arms shaking, eyes squeezed shut. Thank god no one was watching... a boy crying to his mother… the fuck was I thinking… this isn't a chick flick or whatever.

He presses his lips together, standing still. His knuckles turned white as he gripped the banister. Jeb and Wren and Ellis were probably standing in front of the door, milling around the barren yard. Wren and Ellis are probably at each other's throats, maybe with a few blows traded. Both vying for power.

Tobias slips on tattered sneakers and slips over the hardwood floors, resting his hands on the rusted doorknob. He opens the door with dread in his gut.

Wren strikes Jeb in the chest and they both stagger back, faces contorted into masks of anger, the typical Career. They circle each other, shoulders hunched, poised for battle. Jeb snarls and leaps forward, a brute, an animal. Wren falls to the floor and the boy straddles him, pummeling his face and the boy holds his arms up, with tears of anger and shame falling. He writhes on the floor and Tobias stares at his friend with disdain.

"You're weak."

Kids filter past probably on their way to school. They plan to take over the family business and make luxuries. Tobias plans to fight to the death.

"You idiots, let's get to training." He starts down the concrete path and Jeb climbs off of Wren with a dark look. Tobias is the unspoken leader of the group. Wren and Jeb and Ellis are a lot of things, but intelligent isn't one of them. They are the average District One Male. They're middle class with modest houses and a dream of becoming a tribute, but with nothing to set them apart.

"What were you even fighting about anyway?" Ellis asks as he falls in step with Tobias, who strides forward, eyes fixed on the pristine Academy at the end of their street.

"I don't know." Jeb laughs and runs a hand through his untidy mop of hair. "He was being, you know, a Wren."

Something rots inside of Tobias's stomach. Soon they will be at the Academy, along with the hundreds of other boys who live the same life as them. The carbon copy Careers. He's seen them a thousand times. It dominates the District and the education system is rotting as more and more choose to take the path of a brute, a gladiator.

The gang falls to silence, save for Wren's whimpers. The Hunger Games loom over them, turning the people into frenzied maniacs. They rise at dawn and only leave training at midnight, with no breaks in between. Tobias's muscles are turning leaden and he finds it hard to raise his axes. The anger that seems to overtake him is sharp and complete and the punches he throws in the seemingly endless fights are powerful, shattering bone. But he cries at the edge of his mother's bed afterward and sobs about the lack of beauty anywhere in his District. He's turning into someone else, a hollow person, a cardboard cutout of a Career.

The Games will cure me. The victors seem proud, hardened and cold. They seem so perfect, strong and rich and beautiful and famous. Victory will earn him all that. Victors, their families are one whole, smiling for the cameras. Victors bring glory to the District and they live in a mansion with all the money they could ever want. If he comes victor, his family will no longer be mundane, imperfect. His mother will regain her beauty and his father will no longer run a fur shop. His demons will be put to rest and he will stop fighting himself. I will be the perfect Career.

Tobias drifts through the halls of the Academy, lost in thought. Wren, Jeb and Ellis are bickering again, but that is beneath him. They are directionless, boasting of their prowess with their swords but they don't have the guts to volunteer. They would lose anyway.

He picks up his trademark axe, feeling his muscles strengthen and the power flow through his veins. He spins on his heel, letting the weapon do the work, tear through the dummy's flesh like it is nothing. He dives in again and again, feeling the adrenaline take over, feeling like he is something else, a beast, one that cannot think or feel, drunk on power.

He only stops when the dummy is torn to ribbons and there is nothing left to attack.

"I win," he growls to the pile of debris. Tobias imagines that he will face Roman in the arena. It is a dark fantasy. His brother is weak, spineless and couldn't handle District One, so he chose to work in District Eleven, ruling over the weaklings that toil over the fields all day. He will laugh as he kills his brother.

He spins on his heel again, grabs some throwing axes and hurls them at the targets, methodical. They embed themselves in the chest of the human targets, so much more precise, more powerful than the weaklings that surround him, stumbling forward, the weapons flying everywhere. Is this the best District One has to offer. He shakes his head. Rich, spoiled brats.

He keeps training, flitting from station to station, breezing through them like it is nothing. The Academy lends him a sense of power. He is at home here, not like his empty house, not working with his father, who has become so distant since their mother, not when he's with Wren and Jeb and Ellis, the shallow, vapid, talentless brutes. He is out of place in the streets, where the hidden beauty, the birds that sing and take flight, the leaves with pale green underbellies and the people that exist there, they make him yearn for home, tie him to a peaceful weak state. They make him want to capture the world, to draw it, to write it, to create something. They make him want to be kind.

Weakness is not tolerated here. The Games will exterminate it. Tobias is reeling now, wielding swords like it's nothing, battling boys who put their all into this, easily beating them. They don't have his easy grace in battle, his agility and his strength. His body was made for this. His very mind was crafted for battle. The sun is reaching it's zenith and the Career in training knows that he will spend the rest of the day here, bettering himself.

Weakness is not tolerated here. He wipes the sweat off of his forehead and presses the point of the sword to the boy's neck.

"I win." The words are cold, rehearsed. He will say them again, when he is the last man standing.