A/N I'm early! Yay! My life is getting busy, though, my writing time is becoming more and more limited. I'll still try to update once a week, though.

I only got 8 reviews. That's a low for this story. Am I doing something wrong?

Here's District Five.

Raffaella Silva, 17, District Five Female

My eyes wander over the murals on the bedroom wall. Luna's work is so perfect; I can't find a single flaw in it. This is something that I will never understand. How does she find the beauty and the inspiration in a place like this? If anything, she should be the most negative, yet she manages to see what I cannot see. Her beautiful flowers—how does she know what they even look like? The most I've ever seen are a few dandelions. She's always so strong and so positive.

I go down the stairs as the bell tower a few blocks down strikes eight. My shift doesn't start until this afternoon, so I've got a bit of sits on the couch, deep in thought. I'll go make breakfast. Quickly, I scramble an egg and toast some bread.

"Raffi?" she calls, "Please, don't bo-"

I run back over to her and gently push her back down on the couch. She doesn't need to be working; she'll hurt herself.

"Just because I'm going blind doesn't mean I can't find myself breakfast," she says, "I can still see enough to get around."

I'm already finished. I place the plate in front of her and give her a fork.

"Well, thank you," she says.

I smile.

As I watch her eat, it hurts. My strong, sweet older sister, reduced to this? She can't even work or paint anymore. Painting was her life. With that gone, it seems like part of her is gone. And with that, part of me is gone, too.

When she she finishes, I take her plate and wash it as the doorbell rings. I hear Luna getting up, but I run back and make her sit down.

"Oh come on, Raffi," she says, but I ignore that. I open the front door, where Daniel is waiting.

"Good morning," he says, coming in. He sits beside Luna and gives her a hug. "Good morning, sunshine."

"Good morning!" Luna says, her face lighting up. "Shouldn't you be on your way to work?"

"It's fine," he says, "I'll go by the market today, so I wanted to know if you guys needed anything."

"Umm…" Luna says, thinking, "I'm not sure. Raffi?"

"Dozen eggs," I say. Eggs are the only real source of protein we have, other than the jerky, which is reserved for emergencies.

"Okay," he says, writing a quick note.

"Now get to work," Luna says, "I don't want you to get in trouble with your boss."

"Okay," he says, giving her a quick peck on the cheek, "I'll see you later."

The doorbell rings again. Who would it be? No one other than Daniel ever comes by.

A guy in Peacekeeper whites, who can't be much older than I am, stands at the door, holding his helmet in his left hand. That's usually a good sign. It means he's not here for any trouble. "Is this is Silva residence?" he says.

I nod.

"Dante Silva was in an accident," he says. Dante. My fourteen-year-old brother. "He's in the Sector Four hospital right now. I'm very sorry."

I look back at Daniel, who nods.

"Go," he says, "I can stay with Luna. You need this."

I slip into my shoes and dash past the Peacekeeper into the street. We live on the border between Sector Three and Sector Four, so the hospital isn't far away. I sprint down the roads, heading for the hospital. The streets begin to blend together in my mind; my focus is on one thing: find Dante. Is he okay? He better be okay. I don't know how much more I can take.

I barge into the double-doors, my eyes darting around the room. The door to the side leads to the patients, and without a second thought, I go for it.

A man stops me. "Excuse me miss, but only family is allowed."
I want to scream at him, yell at him, tell him that Dante is my freaking brother, but the words don't come.

"S- S- Sil- va," I pant, my voice barely audible, "Br- Broth-"

He gets the point and lets me go. "Room 114," he says.

Got it. My eyes scan the labeled placards. 114. 114. Ah, got it. I nearly break the door in my rush to get in, and I kneel beside the bed where my brother lies.

He turns his head. "Raffi," he says, smiling, "You're here."

I grab him into a hug and squeeze him tightly, my eyes moist.

"Careful," the nurse says, "The explosion he was in was severe. He has a broken leg, but that should be fixed soon. His hearing may be permanently damaged. The left ear cannot hear as of now, and his right ear is 47% deaf."

Deaf? Deaf! Shaking, I squeeze him tighter with my head on his chest as the tears overflow.

"Come on, sis," he says, "It's not that bad. It's deaf-initely something to remember."

Jokes. I run out of the room and stand in the hallway, crying.

"Is everything alright?" I look up and see Daniel, coming up to me. "Luna told me to come."

I shake my head. Things could not be more wrong. I begin to hyperventilate, and I struggle to choke down the sobs.

"Calm down," he says, "Deep breaths."

I try to gulp down air, but I end up unleashing a new wave of tears.

"Can you talk about it?"

I shake my head again. Words don't work. Even if I wanted to, words aren't forming in my head. Speaking only makes it worse.

"Please, it'll make you feel better."

I shake my head again, sobs escaping from my mouth. My life is falling apart.

Daniel puts an arm around my shoulders and stands with me until I have no more tears to cry. I look him in the eyes and say a silent thank you, and though no words are exchanged, I think he understands.

"Do you want to go back in? You kinda left him abruptly."

I nod and slowly enter the room again. Dante is sleeping now, a thin smile on his face. You and Luna have always taken care of me. Now, it's my turn to take care of you.

Aaron Aileen Jr., 18, District Five Male

I finish the last bit of the turkey sandwich and stuff the plastic bag in my pocket. I'll rinse it out and recycle it when I get home. With the new recycling initiative, we get fined for throwing away recyclables. I sit back down on the park bench, Annora at my side. Most sectors of District Five don't have parks, but as Sector One is the richest one, we have a few extra benefits.

"Here are the books you asked for," she says, handing me several of her old textbooks. Though my dad won't let me continue with higher education, I'll learn as much as I can.

"Thanks," I say, flipping through one on electrical engineering. I can barely understand what I'm reading, but I'll get there. "I don't know what I do without you."

She smiles. Gosh, that's cute. "Why is your dad so insistent on you being a peacekeeper? I mean, your grades in school were good enough to apply for the Capitol university here."

I shrug and sigh. "That's my dad," I say, "I don't understand him either. He knows I saw him execute my mom because of his job, and he still expects for me to admire and like it."

"But that wastes so much of your potential. Can't he see that?"

"Nope," I say, leaning back on the bench, "He's got the idea that I'm going to be a peacekeeper stuck in his head, and he doesn't change his mind."

"That's so sad."

"I guess. I could be worse off, though."

The bell tower chimes. 1 PM.

"I have to get going," I say, "I can't be late for duty."

"Okay. Will you be available tomorrow, same time?"

"Sure. I'll bring you all my questions on the reading."

"Glad to help," she says, her face breaking into a huge smile. I resist the urge to give her a quick peck on the cheek. That'd be awkward for both of us, as much as I want it. So, I settle for a side hug and hurry off. One day, I'll tell her how much I love her. It's just not today.

I pass the sign that tells me I'm leaving Sector One into Sector Three, which borders us on the east side. There's an immediate change; the road looks the same, but the buildings become more run down. I see a window boarded over, probably because the owner doesn't have the money to buy glass.

I turn a corner into the heart of Sector Three, where the homeless stay. The Capitol hasn't done anything about them yet, but I hope changes are coming. I get that they're trying up there in City Circle somewhere in the Capitol, but they haven't made the changes that really matter. For now, I can wait.

I avoid looking into the eyes of the beggars on the side of the road. I only have two dollars on me, and if I give some to one, the rest will jump me. I'm not weak, but I can't deal with twenty men when I'm unarmed.

I navigate my way through the heaps of trash until I've cut through the center. The streets are empty once again.

I hear the patter of a child's feet behind me.

"Mister? Could you spa-"

I turn my head and see a little girl dressed in torn rags. She can't be more than nine years old. However, when I turn, her face scrunches up in fear and backs off.

"Hey!" I call. I really need to work on my impression. I hold out two bills. She looks back and sees the money. "C'mon. I'm not gonna hurt you."

She stares at me for a second, and then she comes closer and takes the money.

"Th- Thank you," she says.

I smile. "You're welcome."

She runs off with the money in her hands, and I continue on. Soon, I stand in the shadow of the District Five Peacekeeper base of Sector Three. The bored receptionist looks up and smiles at me. I return the favor.

"You might want to hurry," she says, "I hear you'll be busy today."

Busy. Great. I might be good at my job, but that doesn't mean I enjoy it. I wasn't even technically allowed to join until last month, my eighteenth birthday, but that didn't stop my dad from putting me in.

I hurry into the locker room, where I find Barak closing his locker.

"Hey," he says, "Running late?"

I glance at the clock. "Not technically. Did I miss anything?"

"I hear that there's a drug bust planned for today. Some ol' man's been running a business."

I pull my Peacekeeper suit off the rack and quickly put it on. Holding my helmet, I enter the lineup room and slide into my seat, the only empty one in the entire place. I notice the looks, but I try to ignore them.

I'm assigned to a drug bust with two others, Barak included. I take a deep breath and put on my helmet before I exit the building. When people see you as a Peacekeeper, everything changes. People don't respect you as a person anymore; they fear you.

The two of us follow Thora, the other member of our group, through the alleys of Sector Three. Being in the back, my job is to watch for any dangers from behind. As we make our way in the twists and turns, the haphazard buildings get closer and closer. Looking up, I see the grey, rotting wood, blending in with the drearily smoggy sky and threatening to fall at any moment. Collapsed buildings are some of the biggest causes of death in District Five.

We turn back into a major street, where a group of kids is playing. When they see us, they run inside. Peacekeepers were designed to keep peace and make Panem a better place, but they seem to only create fear and anger. As much as the government is working, something is definitely wrong here.

"The house is at the end of the street," Thora says, her voice ringing from the headset I'm wearing. I squint and see a small shack with a roof that seems on the verge of collapse.

"Seems easy enough," Barak says.

"Then let's go," I say.

We walk down the street until we're practically beside the shack. It's in worse condition than I thought; ivy is pulling apart the walls and the door is barely standing. How an old man can live in here is beyond my understanding.

Barak goes around the back to check for other exits. "There's another door back here," he says.

"You stay back there," Thora commands, "Aaron and I will go through the front."

"Got it," he replies.

Thora adjusts her mouthpiece so that her voice is heard outside her suit. "And we're going in in three… two… one."

I shove the door in and Thora charges in ahead of me. I follow on her heels, holding up my gun in a ready position.

"Don't move!" she orders, "Put your hands up."

An old man sits at a table with three men, one barely older than a teen and another with a tattoo down his left cheek, around him. The three immediately make a run for the back door. We've gone over this. I go after them while she takes care of the old man.

I hear a shout from outside, and I find two of the three druggies trying to take down Barak; the third, the younger one, is reeling, clutching his stomach. Barak's doing fine on his own, but I jump in anyway. Quickly, I get the younger one in handcuffs, but the other two are much harder. Barak takes the tattooed one and I focus on subduing the other. I tackle him to the ground, but he reaches for my gun. I grab a nearby stone and slam it down on his hand, breaking his hand with a crack. He screams, and the rest is easy. Barak has the last one cuffed and subdued as Thora comes out back.

"Good job," she says, "Let's go."

I walk the guy with the broken hand in front of me.

"I'm sorry," I whisper, "I'll do my best to get that fixed as soon as possible."

He just grunts.

I sigh. Sometimes, it seems like everyone hates us, but it's all in a day's work.

Questions:

1. Thoughts on Raffi? What do you like/dislike about her? How will she react to the games? Did you notice anything… special about her POV?

2. How do you feel about Aaron? How will he do in the Games?

3. Predictions?

4. Does everyone here know roughly how my new Panem works, or is it still confusing for some of y'all?

So… I'm done here.

See y'all,

~Joseph