POV District 8 Miryp Arhone

"Miryp," I looked up to see Kallora leaning against the doorway. "Why are you up so early? And outside?"

I looked away from her and back out in front of me. I heaved a sigh, drifting back to the scarf I was knitting in my lap. I was sitting on the steps of the house, which was centered in Victor's Village, which was dead empty now. "Why do you think?"

She came down and sat beside me. It was warming with her there, in the chilly, dark morning. "You know, you aren't crazy," She said gently. I didn't look at her. "Your mother, father, they're just upset. Loosing Orrine to the Games, and Ati right after. They just...they didn't like someone bringing it up, and the fact that you and Beuv could be next." I glanced at her for a moment. I wanted to say something stupid, like 'Beuv deserves to go into the Games', or 'If they really cared whether or not I went to the games, they wouldn't send me to live with you', but I kept my mouth shut. "The Games are rigged sometimes, you know."

I don't know why, but I felt hope when I heard her. "Really?"

She nodded. "I never really noticed until I was reaped myself, back in the 3rd Quarter Quell." It was a chilling reminder. She was pulled for the 3rd Quarter Quell, and I could feel something in my bones that I would get pulled for the 4th. "I don't know why they would've picked me, but I noticed later what stood out. Really, what were the odds that the tributes from District 3 that year were both siblings of a previous Victor? What really were the odds that so many young children, including me, would get Reaped? The older men and women, their names would be in there over a hundred times - since they decided to keep the name count rules normal, even for those over eighteen. How did only two elderly people get pulled, and how did they both happen to be from the same District, and how did they happen to be married?"

It made sense...because it didn't make sense. How exactly could it happen by chance? Some miraculous things can happen, but not like that. "They want entertainment." Her voice got tight for a moment. "Having a five-year-old girl get reaped, just so her father will volunteer to go in with her. Just so they can be the last two. Just so he can commit suicide." I had never seen the 75th Games. I hadn't known what happened. But now I knew why she had been alone until I came to live with her. "They don't do it every year, but that's what I've done with my life - for 25 years - seeing as I don't need to earn any money. I watch the reruns, I watch to see how often they rig it. And now, I know.

"Did they rig Ati's game right after Orrine? She made it to the last five tributes, she was popular, they might have decided to bring in Ati!" I stated, excitement coursing through me. I didn't want to be insane. Maybe I could buy my way back home, with Kallora's help.

"But sometimes," She continued, her voice dropping grimly. "They only rig a couple Districts, and leave the others to chance. Then, I can't tell. So, I don't know if Ati's came was rigged or not. But, they did rig District 3, 4, and 5's Reapings that year. But I remember that the boy wasn't rigged at all. Even so, I personally believe that half of District 8's Reaping wasn't entirely real."

"You really believe it?" I asked. Tears were starting to blur my vision, and I spoke with a sniff.

Her eyes filled with sympathy, and she tucked my blond hair behind my ear, brushing it out of my face. "I do." Her bright red hair was already brushed and pulled back in a pony tail, though she was wearing her night gown with a trench coat wrapped around her shoulders. "You go get dressed, I'll do the same and make some breakfast, then I'll do your hair, ok?"

I nodded. She had deep brown eyes, and they were starting to fill with tears too. "Ok."

She gave me a hug, running her fingers through my hair. "It'll be ok. I promise." She got to her feet, helping me up. Stretching her arm over my shoulder, she lead me back inside. "I promise."

-X-X-X-

"You look so pretty, maybe Mortanny will see you and make sure your name isn't called," Kallora told me as we started our long trek from the Victor's Village to the Town Square. Mortanny Worage was District 8's escort.

"I'm pretty sure he's married, Kallora," I pointed out. She shrugged, though she got me to put a smile on my face.

"Wait up!" We both turned to see Ineran - Ineran Alever - jogging after us. His older sister, Eldoll Alever, was another Victor, before Kallora won. She had died from alcohol poisoning by the 75th, but because they would've had a shortage of mentors, Ineran took was allowed to take her spot, once he was old enough - but the Capitol made sure they didn't make a big deal about it, especially due to her cause of death. But even once Kallora, the five-year-old victor, came along, they kept him up to their deal. But considering he was ten at the time, it would still be a long while. It now struck me that it may have been rigged so Ineran wouldn't get reaped again, just so they would have two mentors. They probably had a conspiracy against a single mentor for two tributes, considering the stories I had heard of the Star-crossed lovers of the 74th Hunger Games.

"Hey Ineran," Kallora greeted with a smile. Once he caught up with us, he put his arm over Kallora's shoulders and gave her a kiss on the cheek. My back tensing, I hustled ahead a bit. I had known their relationship when I had arrived to live in the Victor's Village. They had always been kind, they had always been welcoming, I felt like I was intruding. I always felt awful when I saw the two of them together. I felt like I didn't belong there. But apparently, I didn't belong back home. I didn't really belong anywhere.

-X-X-X-

"And now," Mortanny Worage continued. I had almost fallen asleep, though I don't know how, considering I was terrified from head to toe. "We'll start with the girls' tribute." Behind his green, blue, and brown silhouette, sat Ineran, with an older man who had won several years before the 3rd Quarter Quell, Still Perhon. Considering it was "Crazy Still" and someone who had never set foot in the Games, there wasn't much hope for assistance for the District 8 tributes. I glanced back to Mortanny as he stood center-stage, unfolding the name.

I closed my eyes tight, my gaze falling to the mud and dust covered tiles on the ground of the Town Square. I was waiting for it. I knew it was coming. "Miryp Arhone." And tears started dripping onto my shoes within seconds. I didn't look up at the girls around me, I kept my eyes to the floor and stiffly walked towards the center of the square. I ran into the rope before I ducked under. I didn't wait for the peacekeepers to catch up to me, I just kept walking.

I glanced up to see a look of horror growing on Ineran's face, though he had to keep it masked for the cameras. When I glanced over to the side once I got to the twelve-year-old girls. Beuv was shaking, standing on the edge near the rope. Since the peacekeepers had left gaps, thinking I was being cooperative, I ran straight past them towards the rope. Beuv tried to back away, but the crowd of the other girls kept her from going back. "You're next!" I screamed, trying to grab her by the collar of her dress. "Orrine, Ati, Miryp, and Beuv! The dead Arhone sisters!" I was in tears, and so was she. The peacekeeprs grabbed my arms, pulling me away and forcing me to the stage.

Once I got up to the stage, Mortanny's hand clamped down on my shoulder. "And now for the boys' tribute," He declared, exasperated. I was shaking on the stage once he left, and when he made a prompt return with the boy's name, he put his arm over my shoulder again. Probably to keep me from running.

I picked out Kallora in the crowd. She had her hand clamped over her mouth, and I could hear faint, muffled cries coming from her direction, pacing in circles. I picked out my parents. My mother looked hysterical, and my father met my gaze. I glared, and I pointed towards him, mouthing, "It should've been you!"

"Sulsay Honshye." More screaming and crying filled the town square. I knew him. It was his younger sister, Sillian, that was crying. I was able to find them in the crowd. Their father was trying to calm her down, picking her up. Their mother was at their side, staring in shock up towards the stage. Sulsay made his way out of the crowd of fifteen-year-olds. He was a year older than me, though we were friends.

I glanced back at Ineran, and that forward to find Kallora again. "It was rigged?" I mouthed, and Kallora's hand slowly fell from her lips. She nodded slowly, her eyes wide with fear. Mortanny didn't leave my side to guide Sulsay up. His stubby fingers dug into my skin, and I grinded my teeth. He finally let go when we were to shake hands. Tears were collecting in Sulsay's brown eyes, but I was way ahead of him.

"Let's give a hand for our tributes from District 8, Miryp Arhone and Sulsay Honshye!" Mortanny announced. He knew our names too well. Like he had already known who was supposed to be drawn. He barely let us hear their forced rejoice, quickly turning us around to shove us into the Justice Building.

Once the doors had closed, I dropped to my knees. I put my head in my hands, and it briefly crossed my mind that they'd be able to hear my screaming and crying outside. Mortanny made a move for me, grabbing my arm and trying to pull me up, but Sulsay stepped forward, kneeling beside me. I glanced through my fingers, and I could see and angry look on his face. Sulsay met him bravely. "I've got this," He said firmly, and our escort's face turned from anger to shock.

He turned back to me, and my hands had dropped into my lap. "It's ok," He whispered more gently. He put his arm over my shoulder, grabbing my arms softly, and guiding me to my feet. Mortanny stomped off towards the waiting room, and Sulsay stayed beside me as we followed. He ushered me into my room before Mortanny almost choked him, grabbing him by the collar of his shirt and dragging me out.

Left alone with my thoughts, I started justifying myself - to myself. I rush of words flowed through my head, but only one explanation for my actions stood out. These Games would be the end of me.