Day Four. Mid-Morning.

District Ten's Life Lee's POV

I suspected as much in the beginning, Rayne's multi blond hair wasn't all natural, in fact, almost all of it was a different kind of blond then what it really was. Obviously. I can't think of anyone who has natural multi couloured hair. I don't think even the Capital citizens had natural green or blue hair, despite how real looking they had it. There was no such thing.

When I brought her out in the rain and removed her clothes to clean her body up, I discovered that along with the blood and dirt on her body and face, I noticed that her blond hair was bleeding the different colours of blond onto the ground. The colours of blond mixed into the rain hitting the mix of concrete and greenery that grew by our feet. She still had some of the multi blond colours in her hair, but they were all faded colours now.

From what I'm seeing now, I'd guess that Rayne's natural hair colour is a light blond. I think she really should keep it a one colour blond, I'm not really a big fan of dye. Maybe it was because the only kind of dye we get at home was either dirt, manure if you were unfortunate enough to get it on you, or blood. I saw two of the three run off of Rayne's body at the moment. It reminded me of home. I looked like that often, after all, dirt was a common thing around the district with animals and such running around the dirt roads along with the people having to work with the dirt. Manure was also a common occurrence because of all the livestock as well. Sometimes I'd see the young kids throw that shit at the district residents for laughs before running away in a fit of giggles as the victim reacted in disgust. I didn't find it funny, I found those kids to be immature, I felt sorry for the victim, they didn't deserve to have shit thrown at them, especially in the district we came from, the people had enough to worry about without those kids pulling those stunts on them. The kids should have been doing something besides slinging shit at the unfortunate people that just happened to be at the wrong place at the wrong time. Plus, I hate to think of what the peacekeepers would do to those young kids if they ever caught them. They showed no mercy to anyone, not even the young.

Then there was the blood. The peacekeepers were an obvious example with their torcherous methods, they had blood on their white uniforms after whippings and executions. The people that cut apart animals also had various parts of their bodies temporally dyed with blood until they washed it off. I was no different. I cut apart animals before selling them on the market or keeping the butchered animal parts for myself, so I was often dyed with blood. I didn't mind though, I was used to it, I had done it many times before.

The farm. The animals. I had to run all of it on my own. After everyone in my family died, I had to run the entire thing on my own, and it wasn't easy considering that I had to start from less then scratch.

Sure I had the house. Sure I had the farm. But that was it, that was all I really had with me. I needed to buy new crop seeds. I had to buy new animals. Then there were the tools that needed fixing, the ground that needed to be dug up and seeded, the fences that needed to be rebuilt. Hell, everything needed to be fixed one way or another. It was hard work, but it was do or die for me, nobody had any work for someone like me, so I had to make do on my own on the family farm, and by the time I had even started to work on the farm again I was in dept.

I was in dept because of the higher ups in the district. Papa tried to stop them from taking our crops and animals after Mama's death because he knew that without them we wouldn't stand a chance of living. We'd starve. How could we survive the winter without the meat that we got from butchering the animals? Without our crops that we grew? How could we live without all that? Papa tried to explain all that to them. But the higher ups refused to listen to him, all they were saying was that they were owed for the care they gave Mama. They wanted us to pay for those so called doctors care. Even though all they did was leave her for dead. They didn't care though, all they wanted was what they were owed. It made me sick on how they thought they could treat like that.

Papa tried and tried to get them to give us some time, but they wouldn't listen, they wanted their pay then and now. They said that we were given a week to mourn over Mama, and that week was now finished. It was frustrating to say the least. And that frustration was beginning to show on both the higher ups and Papa as started to have the expressions of anger on their faces. I kept my frustration in because I knew that it wouldn't have solved anything.

I wish I had told Papa that.

Then things quickly escalated into violence. The higher ups said that if Papa wasn't willing to pay them, they'd take it by force. And yet, even after they said that, Papa still refused to give them the crops and animals. He stubbornly refused them. Even though the higher ups had some peacekeepers by their side.

I didn't like the situation as much as he did, I mean, what right did they have for taking the crops and animals? They claimed to have done the right thing for Mama, but all they did was isolate her from everyone because of this so called cancer thing that she had. But I knew the truth. Both Papa and I knew the truth though. There was no cancer.

We asked people around the district about cancer after the so called doctors didn't tell us anything about it. We were suspicious, and were even more so when everyone in the district said that they didn't know anything about what this so called cancer was.

The so called doctors said she died from the cancer and there was nothing they could have done for her. Mama didn't die of cancer, she died of starvation. They isolated her from everything, even food and water for a week and let her die without a shred of remorse. The evidence was clear when Mama returned to us.

When they returned the body to us, they said that the cancer had gotten her, they said that they did everything they could. They said that they had to isolate her. They said that she wasn't expected to live long anyway. But I knew they were lying. Her body was starved and covered with flies and maggots, just like a rotten corpse after days of exposure. They could have isolated her, but that didn't mean that they had to isolate the food and water from her either.

Seeing her like that really hit me hard, I cried for days and felt nothing but sorrow towards her. Nothing could cheer me up. Nothing.

Why did they have to take her away? She didn't do anything. She was perfectly fine. She was a loving woman who's faith was strong. How did this happen? It wasn't fair. All of this wasn't fair.

Now here were the people, the higher ups, coming to collect from us for this fraud. I felt bitter anger towards them, but I didn't get to say anything, because Papa, the higher ups, and the head peacekeeper were all shouting at each other. Harsh words were exchanged between them. Threats were made. The peacekeepers were calculating everything with their cold, harsh, sadistic eyes while watching everything moment of the verbal fight. None of them talked except the head peacekeeper. None except the leader. They just watched, and calculated with those eyes of theirs.

Then without warning, words turned physical. My Papa, the friendliest man I had ever known, raised a finger towards the higher ups. I knew that was a terrible mistake, and I was scared. I was going to shout at him to stop before he did something terrible, because even if he wasn't going to hit the higher ups, they'd see it as a threat.

I remember my Papa's words that he shouted while taking a single step closer to one of the higher up's while pointing a finger at his face.

"Now listen here you-" Papa said angrily.

I wanted to shout at him to stop, but my voice was drowned beneath the thundering sounds of assault rifle bullets.

I screamed out in horror as crimson red flowers bloomed on either side of Papa. Small ones at his chest, big ones in his back. I couldn't stand those flowers, I wish I never saw them. I wish they never appeared.

Twenty four bullets entered and exited his body before he fell to the ground with blood pouring out of his chest, back, and mouth as it started to stain the dirt road dark red. I was in total shock. This had all happened so fast. First it was just arguing, normal arguing, and now my Papa was on his back, with forty eight bloody holes in his body with blood running out of his mouth, chest, and back.

How did this happen?

I ran over to my Papa and pleaded him not to die. I remember feeling the tears building up in my eyes as I looked him in the eyes and told him not to die. I knew that there was only the tiniest sliver of a chance that he wouldn't die, but I wanted to believe that the only man that I gave all of my heart to would live from twenty four bullet wounds. Everyone in my family had already left me, he couldn't abandon me too. Not now. Not after everything that's happened to us. Not with what was happening now.

"Papa!" I shouted. My voice nothing but desperation and sadness. "Don't die!"

His only response was a painful cough that sent squirts of blood into the air as his light sea green eyes started to roll back. "No!" I shouted desperately "Papa don't-"

BOOM! The sound of a gun being fired interrupted my plea for him to live before his head instantly sprayed my face with blood and brain matter. The last living member of family besides me, was dead from the gunfire of twenty five bullets and fifty bullet wounds. And all I did was stand back and watch it happen. All I did was say 'don't die!' Instead of getting him to the medical center, I watched him die. And that was one of the worst feelings that I ever felt.

I looked up in pure horror to see the eyes of a young boy, a boy that couldn't have been older then nineteen, holding a handgun that was pointed towards the spot that blew a hole in my father's head. The boy stoor at us with those cold, sadistic eyes of his like we were nothing to him. Like we were far below him. Like we were nothing but dirt to him. It made me so angry at him, how could he just shoot my father like that, right in front of me. So easily. Just like that.

But I was so overcome with sadness that I didn't even feel the anger until two days later, after I had cried my eyes out while clutching my father's body while the higher ups took all our crops and animals.

I cried all day that day. I cried until sunset. And only then did I snap out of my trance. Only then did I notice that ants were crawling on my father's dead body. Only then did I notice that I was kneeling in a pool of wet red soil. Only then did I notice the flies buzzing all over the both of us. Only then did I realize that all our crops and animals were gone. Only then did I notice that everything that I held dear to me, was gone for good.

I felt dead inside. I felt empty. I felt depressed. I felt horrible. I felt hollow.

Why? Why did god have to do this to us? We were a good family, a great family. We weren't perfect but we were family. I didn't like some of them but they were all part of my family. We had our faith, so why did we have to suffer all these tragedies?

Grandma, grandpa, mama, papa, they were all only childs, so I didn't have any uncles or aunts. My little sister Faerie was also dead. So I had nobody left with me. Nobody was going to take me in. Nobody was going to take care of me. Nobody. I was all alone in this world.

But I wasn't just going to let my family die out because I felt sad for myself. No, that would have been a waste of their lives, and I really didn't want them to see me go that way. I didn't want to die like Grandpa did. I didn't want to commit suicide.

After days of feeling down, I buried my Papa next to Mama, grandma, grandpa, and Faerie. All buried in the yard next to our house. They were together again, at least up in a higher plane then I was. I said my last goodbyes before I started to work on the farm again.

I worked with what I had. The broken tools and left over seeds. I had to work on those things, those things that had been broken by the higher ups, who else would have done it? The hoe handles were broken in half. The plows couldn't move because I didn't have the strength to move them through the hard earth myself, I needed the animals to do that for me. The shovels handles were also broken. Everything was a complete wreck and needed fixing or replacement. But I couldn't afford to buy new tools or even the equipment to fix them. I also didn't have very many left over seeds to plant. It was hell, and I didn't think that I would be able to make enough to sustain myself, let alone grow enough to feed myself and have enough left over to sell.

I had to work on the farm by myself, in the hot sun, with broken tools. It was more then just hard, and I didn't get many things grown that year. In fact, I barley made enough food to support myself, but I was used to being hungry, and rationing wasn't anything new to me.

My whole life then turned into a constant battle of work and survival. And always, always did I only have barley enough for me and only me.

I was thirteen and the sole heir of the farm, and it was living hell. But I didn't complain about it, what good would that have done?

People said that I should have gone into the orphanage, but I didn't want to go there. If I went in there, I'd be giving up the family farm to those that killed my Mama and Papa. I'd be leaving behind everything my family had ever owned. It would be a crime to just give up everything my family had. And those kids in the orphanage, they weren't much better off then I was. I heard stories of kids being abused, thrown out, starved, and more. So living there in my opinion, was worse then living by myself.

But even so, I watched the other kids my age running around, playing in the district and having fun with other kids. I wanted to be like them. Even though we were all starved, miserable, and lacking hope, I wanted to be more like them and less like me. Because unlike me, they were having fun, going to school, making friends, and all other kinds of joyous things that I had done when I was younger. I didn't have time for any of that anymore though, I was focused on surviving. More so then the rest of the district. And even if I tired to be like them, I doubted that I could do what they were doing. I wanted a friend, but I simply didn't have the time to have one, to make one.

Working on the farm by one's self was lonely with only the animals, back breaking pain, and the hot sun to keep you company. The other kids were so lucky. I envied them. They had so much more then I did. Not wealth like though, not a lot of us had much wealth anyway, but they had family, friends, lives that could be lived. My life was work, and only work. Even when I wasn't working on the farm I was working, there was always work somewhere else. There seemed to be no end in sight for me, always work for me. I didn't like it, but I knew that I had to do it.

It was no way to live, but it was the only way for me to live.

I looked down to Rayne to see the blood, dirt, and dye wash away from her as I thought of why I had decided for her to be my ally. I admired her for her bravery back in the training center, and she was good with memory, like myself, who could never forget anything, no matter how terrible the situation was. And she was strong and fast. But was there more?

I looked at her again, seeing that thin body of her's, tall and thin. I now think that it made me think of the kids back home in District Ten. Those hungry kids that I wanted to help. I wanted to give them food so that they at least wouldn't starve to death, but of course, I didn't have anything to give away. I had nothing to offer, and it made me feel useless. Useless to stop the tragity that struck the district like a plague.

Starvation. Heat strokes. Out of control animals. Murderous peacekeepers. I couldn't stop any of them. Hell, I couldn't really do anything for them except maybe say sorry for their losses. I was damn well useless in the district. And I was almost damn well useless here in the arena.

I felt tears start to build up in my eyes thinking of all the stuff that I could have, should have, and would have done if I only had done it.

The district for example, I could have given some of the district folks a job. They could have helped me on the farm instead of me working by my lonesome self. That could have increased crop production or animal butchering. It would have helped me and the worker, and maybe some other people in the district if that worker and I produced more food. Or I could have taken a couple minutes of my time to help someone in the market chop apart some animals. I was skilled with an ax, I could have helped them. Or maybe I could have shared some of my faith with others. It wouldn't be much sharing, but at least they might feel a little better after.

Hopefully.

Then there was the arena and our fight with Shoney. I could have ran faster. I could have been more on guard. I could have attacked Shoney at the front door. I could have done a lot of things. But instead, I didn't. And the only thing I could really do was clean someone. I was useless in a fight, and instead of saving Rayne, Rayne had to save me. I may have stopped Shoney from destroying Rayne, but really, I had to be saved more times then I had helped her.

Guess this is why my family died, because I didn't do anything to help them.

Tears then started to flood out of my eyes as I thought of how useless I was. Then and now, I was useless. So god damn fucking useless.

"Mom." I heard a weak voice say suddenly. Mom? I looked down to Rayne, the only person that could have possibly said that and looked at her with a mix of curiosity and worry. "Mom," I heard Rayne say again weakly. Why was she calling me mom? "I'm ok," She continued weakly "I'm just hurt a little, just a few scratches."

District Six's Rayne Page's POV

I looked at the blurred figure in front of me. I didn't recognize the figure, as it had no descriptive features that I could recognize, hell, it had no features, but it was in the shape of a human, a woman. How did I know that it was a woman? It could just as easily be a man. Someone, my mind, just told me that it was a woman, and somehow, it just felt right to think that that shape in front of me was a woman, it just seemed, right.

Then somehow, I knew what that figure was, it was my mother, and she was crying. Why was she crying? I just got in a fight with one of the district kids, and I had beaten him. Yes he had put up a fight and had hurt me, but it wasn't something to cry over. I swear mother, you worry too much.

Don't cry mom. I'm alright. Really, I'm alright. I'm just a little hurt right now that's all. This is nothing to cry over mom, I just got a little roughed up, it's not even that bad.

It really wasn't, there were a lot of worse things that could have happened. I mean, all I did was get knocked around a little, all he did was make me disorientated. Nothing much.

Mom, you shouldn't cry over this, because I'm not crying over it. In fact, I don't feel hurt at all, I feel tired and dizzy. Sleep, I wanted to go to sleep, but I can't go to sleep with you staring at me.

Don't stare at me mom, I said I'm fine. Damn mom, you can be so annoying sometimes, I'm not a little girl anymore, I'm seventeen years old now, you don't need worry over me so much. I don't need to be protected from the dangers of the district, I know the dangers now, unlike when I was a little girl. But I quickly learned about them.

Mom, I don't know if you remember this, but remember when I was five and I knew that my future work would be cutting down branches from redwood trees? I do. So I decided to start learning how to climb even though I was only five years old without you or dad supervising me. You guys were out someplace and I was alone, and I saw the older kids climbing and cutting down tree branches. So I went outside into the district and looked around for the perfect tree to climb.

I then found it in the middle of my journey, a sturdy looking tree that didn't look too high up for a little five year old girl like myself. I felt ready to climb, and even though it was my first time climbing, I felt like I could do it. I wanted to be ready for my future.

I climbed up one of those small trees that were only about thirty feet, or was it forty feet tall? Either way I climbed up about twenty feet before a branch snapped and I lost my footing before tumbling down the tree and hit every branch along the way down. I broke my right leg and received several cuts to the body, but no serious cuts, and I wasn't dead. It hurt like a bitch, but I wasn't dead, not even close. But at the time, I thought I was dying. The pain in my body was like wildfire, and everywhere, especially in my right leg. I think I shouted really loud too.

But you were acting like I had died when you saw me in the doctor's office. Your warm hazel eyes were filled with tears as you ran towards me and held me before shouting at me how dangerous it was to climb by myself. You also said that I shouldn't learn to climb till I was older, and when you or dad were around to supervise me while I climbed so that this wouldn't happen again. Your eyes were full of worry, and that made me feel sad. I knew that I shouldn't have done it, but I didn't think that it was that bad.

The pain of a broken leg and the worried look you gave me made me cry for the first time since I was born. Do you remember that mom? That was one of the extremely rare times that I cried.
I looked at the figure that was a blur with only hazel eyes that could only be my mother's, and saw the figure not moving at all, her eyes fixed on one spot. Me.

No, you don't remember? Don't worry mom, I didn't remember it till just now. Why are you just a blur mom? Why are your eyes the only thing that I can see clearly?

Why indeed?

The world started to turn black as my mother's warm eyes fadded into darkness. What was happening? Why was my mother disappearing? For some reason, it made my body feel lighter, made me feel like I was in less pain. As she was disappearing, my body hurt less. Why?

Mom? Mom? Where are you going?

A/N: I'm not really sure about this chapter. I hope I didn't make it too emo or something.

Life is the hardest tribute to write, but I love it.

Oh yes, anyone got any constructive criticism for me? Or just criticism?