Disclaimer : Suzanne Collins owns the hunger games.
AN: sorry guys for not updating recently but I got carried away with reading some other really good stories on this site and didn't have time to update.
Dates for chapter updates for each story will be on my profile if you want to know when the next chapter will be added to the story, although I have to write the chapters first so sometimes they may be a day or two late because I update straight after I've written the chapter and spell checked it. I don't see the point in waiting and withholding a chapter so you'll get them as soon as they've been written.
next chapter will be up by the end of Friday. Hope you enjoy.
In district twelve the word 'tribute' is synonymous with corpse. There hadn't been a victor for over twenty years in district twelve, the last being Haymitch Abernathy.
In the whole of district twelve's history there has only ever been two victors and the first had won in the early years when the rage against the Capitol was still burning hot and bright, when there was still talk of rebellion and peoples spirits were Yet to be broken. Way back when, when people still dreamed of freedom and knew of life before the games. Nobody can even remember her now. Just another name in the long list of forgotten and dead tributes and victors.
After the reaping the streets empty and everyone ventures home. For the most part the district relaxes and a small quiet celebration meal is eaten in thanks that no one they know has been taken. For a two families though the curtains are drawn and the family mourn their loss.
As usual every district is required to be dressed in something relating to their district trade, which for twelve is mining. I've never taken that much notice of the tributes from twelve before, as they always wear skimpy miners outfits every year, but this year the stylists have gone one step further because the tributes aren't wearing anything at all. They are completely stark naked and are only covered in glittery black powder. The camera zooms in on them and most wince and look away.
The scene is immensely embarrassing and most turn their heads out of shame or respect. The dust meant to make the tributes look like pieces of coal only accentuates the harsh outlines of their ribs that jut out, making them look even more pathetic and tiny than usual. Both this years tributes are from the Seam and have never had a full meal in their entire lives. The girl has tears in her eyes and tries to cover herself from the view of the cameras. I truly feel sorry for them and look away in disgust at the Capitol. As if those kids needed to feel any more violated or humiliated.
The hob the next day is more quiet and surly and people go about with a quiet anger simmering beneath their skin. People are angry but there's nothing that can be done so they carry on their lives and try to ignore the games. Nobody talks about them, it's as if they're already over.
Both tributes die in the bloodbath as predicted, the girl by a brute from two and the boy by a girl from four. It could have been worse, at least this year there were proper knives and spears unlike last year when the knives were so tiny and blunt, that most of the tributes were beaten to death or froze in the sub zero temperatures.
The heat in district twelve is unbearable. The suits they make the peacekeepers wear really aren't made for extreme climates like they have in twelve. In the winter they're not water proof or warm enough and in the summer they're not cool enough. By the time lunch time comes around I'm irritable from the heat and already soaking wet with sweat.
Katniss comments one day that my face is almost as red as my hair, to which I reply
"I'm sure a pretty girl like you could make it even redder, red heads have great stamina, we could go all night."
Her reply is a faint blush and to whack my arm with a dead rabbit.
"Hey hey, no damaging the merchandise...ladies pay a lot of money for a taste of this." I gesture towards myself with a sly grin.
She rolls her eyes and hits me again before handing sae some coins and heading off towards the bakers.
"You never know if you'll like it or not unless you've tried it Katniss!" I holler after her, to which she gives me a one fingered salute.
Gale Hawthorne glares at me from the far corner of the hob where he's standing with his father trading some old baby clothes for some worn brown leather boots. The look on his face is filled with such hatred that at first I turn my neck to look behind me and see who he's looking at when I realise he's glaring at me. I wonder what his problem is?
By the time I've finished eating dinner and I've started climbing into bed I've forgotten all about gales hostile gaze. The night is hot and I sigh in relief when my hot skin touches the cool sheets.
I'm utterly exhausted yet even after an hour of laying in bed with my eyes closed I can't get to sleep. I feel too clammy and the air is thick and dusty. There hasn't been a drop of rain in weeks. Just as I begin to teeter on the edge of Morpheus there's a hesitant knock at the door. I growl in frustration and thump my pillow, I was so close. Whoever it is better have a damn good reason.
As I grouchily stomp down the stairs towards the door I wonder who it could be at this time of night, most of the district is asleep.
When I open the door I'm met by the sight if a young girl, she can't be more than 20. She's wearing a thin blue dress and has her hair in a bun on the top of her head.
"What?" I growl still annoyed with my lack of sleep.
"Emm... Er I -er , I mean..."
"Out with it."
She straightens her shoulders and gathers her courage.
"I was wondering if you'd like some company?"
"... What? Its one in the morning."
She nods and looks at me expectantly. When she sees I'm not going to say anything else she continues more hesitantly.
"I mean some... Female company."
I stand there staring at her for a moment until it clicks what she's offering. I'm mortified when a blush creeps up my face and I stammer a reply.
"Er.. I- I think you're at the wrong house, erm Cray's is that way." I point towards town.
"I know but I was wondering-"
"No." I cut her off. For all my innuendos and all my jokes I've never actually been with a woman since coming to twelve. And if I did choose to be with one in that way it would be with a woman that wanted to be with me, not needed to.
I go to close the door but she grabs my wrist to stop me.
"Wait you don't understand, my brother he's hungry, he needs to eat."
"Please, please." She begs and I wonder if this would have been Katniss a few years ago had she been older. I know that she loved her sister very much, even more than herself and I know that if she could have she would have done whatever was necessary to keep prim alive. I would have wanted someone to help Katniss, starvation is a slow and painful death.
I sigh deeply and scrub my hand over my face. I take one last look at the girl before walking into the kitchen.
I grab a loaf of bread off the side and walk back to the door and hand it to her. She looks shocked and steps forward to come inside. I hold my hand up and smile sadly at her.
"Don't come back again" I say and softly shut the door leaning back tiredly against it.
I heard someone once say that 'love knows no bounds', and I think whoever ever said it was right.