*DISTRICT 6*

*MINNIE MONTE*
*THIRTEEN*

"Just a little harder," Minnie urges herself, willing her legs to keep going for another minute, and another, and another. It's the only way she can meet up with Darrell. She's panting by the time she stands in front of him.

With his floppy dirty-blonde hair, warm blue eyes, and tough stance, he's Minnie's protector, boyfriend, and best friend all in one. He pecks her on the lips. "Parents not letting you out?"

She rolls her eyes. "I had chores yesterday. You know, so we'd have a good Reaping and wouldn't have to work today."

"Did you know that I waited all morning for you?"

"It's only 7:30."

"Well, I've been out here since 6:00. What do you think of that?"

She grins. "I'm glad I mean so much to you." Minnie fingers the gold charm necklace that she wears as a choker. Engraved with a single letter D, Minnie believes it shows everyone who passes her undying love for Darrell.

"You do." He cups her chin and kisses her passionately.

"Everyone out! District 6! Everyone out!"

"Fuck," Darrell swears, grasping Minnie's wrist. "Peacekeepers."

"We're not doing anything wrong."

"They don't need an excuse. They hate District 6. They think we're scum. Come on, Minnie."

"Where are we going?" she gasps out, stumbling over District boundaries into the abandoned train-yard beyond. Darrell pulls open the door to a rotting warehouse, and, inside, they clutch each other's waists, listening for the sound of boots following them.

Nothing.

And then someone raps on the door.

"Oh my God." Minnie is close to hysteria as she crawls toward a corner, curling up behind rusty metal railroad ties into the black shadows. "Darrell?"

"We know you're in there. Open up and your punishment won't be too extreme. You don't need extra lashes for defying Peackeepers."

Neither moves.

"Open the hell up!" The knob turns, and before them stands a Peacekeeper, dressed all in white. He carries a taser and an automatic rifle, both which are pointing into the shed. Weak sunlight spills in. Minnie's hiding place is clearly visible. "You, bitch. Stand."

She breathes as quietly as she can through her nose, instinctively cowering and closing her eyes.

"I know you're there. You can't fool me. I will drag you out by your ugly brown hair if you don't get up." His guns are still trained firmly on Minnie.

Hoarsely, she chokes out, "I apologize, sir," and rises shakily to her feet, staring down at the dusty, cracking floor. Her chocolate eyes are trained on the ground, and her raven-colored tresses hang limply around her thin face.

"Are you here alone? I thought I saw another person." He tromps around the tiny room, digging through chests and peeking into closets Minnie hadn't noticed.

"N-no one," she finally manages to say. "Just me."

"Fine." He nods and throws her over his shoulder like a sack of flour. "I found one!" he calls to his comrades, who are grouped around the truck, standing up straight, holding their helmets by their sides.

Another Peacekeeper laughs derisively, yanking on a lock of Minnie's hair as she dangles helplessly. "You question her yet?"

"I was saving that for the town square. I would say chain her to the whipping post at 9:45 and begin the interrogation. We can carry out her punishment right before the Reaping. They'll probably broadcast it."

Minnie tries desperately to speak, holding up her purse. It's obvious she's trying to bribe the officials.

The Peacekeeper who laughed does so again and kneels to her height. "You want to pay for your release, pretty?" He tickles her tanned cheek, sending a shiver through her medium-short, lean body. "We'll take it." Gratitude washes through her face as he snatches the bag. "Now tie her up," he orders imperiously. "And gag her. We don't need any whining." He climbs into the driver's seat of the truck and smirks.

"No, please," are her only words before she's stuffed into the trunk, facing the wall.

"To the square?" asks one of the Peacekeepers.

Bitter laughter echoes through the cabin.

"That's right," replies the Head Peacekeeper (otherwise knows as the one who laughed). "To the square."

*CARSON FAIR*
*FIFTEEN*

"You gotta clear out, Becker," Carson tells the slight boy cuddled under a thin sheet at the foot of his cot. "Sorry, but my parents will murder me if they find you here."

Becker smiles lopsidedly. "You mean they won't let a poor beggar stay for the Reaping?"

"Doubt it." Carson opens his window, and Becker shimmies out, dropping to the ground with his bag of possessions and loot and running off.

Then Carson turns to his door. Even from upstairs, he can hear shouts and slaps. His parents fighting. Once again. So instead of going down to the kitchen, he heads across the hall to his sister's room. "Hey, Chesney, you up?"

She rolls over to face him, smiling. "Yeah. Happy Reaping, Carson."

"What's happy about it?" he deadpans, before yanking her into a hug. "Well, you should be happy. You'll be safe for another whole year."

"I'll be happier if you're not Reaped," she whispers.

"Me too."

"Are Mom and Dad arguing again?" Chesney inquires, cocking her head to the side.

"Uh-huh," Carson answers regretfully. "I wish Mom would just kick him out already."

"She's too nice."

Carson exhales and scowls. "I know." He rubs Chesney's shoulder. "But we gotta go and eat before the Reaping, even if your name's not in the bowl. Wanna come down and have some cereal with me?"

"Alright." And with a smile, she follows Carson.

Innocence, he thinks ruefully. I wish I still had some.

The brutal beating he'd received from a vicious Peacekeeper at the tender age of eight caused his skin to toughen much faster than anything else ever could. And now that he's 15, he doesn't feel very much of anything, except possibly affection toward his sister, mother, and the young boy who hides out in his room when the streets are too wet, snowy, or cold.

But that's it.

*DISTRICT 6 REAPING*

The horn blows early, at 9:40. The residents of District 6 struggle to finish getting dressed, and those of Reaping age hurry into the streets toward the square as quickly as possible. The horn blows again. The children run faster, a confused whisper echoing through the dry streets.

"Silence!" booms the voice of Head Peacekeeper Ronan. "All of you, quiet down." He signals to his fellow Peacekeepers to move aside, revealing a figure slumping against a wooden whipping post. Thick ropes circle over her wrists, stomach, and forehead to keep her in place. A piece of black cloth covers her mouth, but her brown eyes are wide with terror. Her lips tremble as he begins the official proclamation. "This girl was caught outside of District 6 boundaries and will be questioned and lashed accordingly. Simply for crossing the border, any minor would receive eight lashes. Now, how many should we add?" He leers and speaks into a thick microphone. All cameras are focused on him as he yanks out the girl's gag. "What is your name?"

She doesn't reply.

"One extra lashing. Let's try again. What is your name?"

"M-Minnie."

"Minnie what?"

"Minnie Monte."

Grandly, Ronan sweeps his arm. "This is Minnie Monte. Now, Minnie, how old are you?"

"14."

"14. Quite young to be sneaking out of your District. Now, were you with anyone, Minnie Monte?"

She shakes her head as a shout rings through the silent square. "Minnie! Minnie!"

Her reply is heard even through the gag. "Darrell! Help!"

"Two more lashes, and be grateful it isn't more. What do you not understand about silence?" he whips around to yell at the crowd.

"I'm coming, Minnie, I'm coming!"

But just as Darrell appears in her line of sight, two Peacekeepers grab him expertly by his arms and twist them behind his back, clipping them together with handcuffs.

"Would you like lashes as well?" Ronan demands, spit flying through the air.

"I was with her! It's not just her! It's not her fault!" Darrell screams.

In one motion, Ronan shoves him against the post and ties him there. "You lied, did you, Minnie?"

"N-no, I..."

"Liar."

"I..."

"Five more lashes. What were you doing outside of your District, Minnie? You should be happy to live here. Just two years ago, your first male victor won. Your family should still be saving the spoils of that. So what could possibly make you want to leave?"

"I made her, okay, Ronan?" Darrell twists around as far as he can.

"What did you just call me?"

"Ronan," Darrell shoots back. "That's your name, is it not?"

"You dirty little... Why did you make her?"

He stumbles. "I don't know."

"Very well." He checks a beeping black timepiece attached to his uniform. "Drat. We have to have you all registered in nine minutes. So let's count these up. For Minnie: the default eight, plus one, two, and five. That makes sixteen. For this distraction over here, we have 11 for obstructing, plus, let's see, how about seven for insolence? And since you seem to be a pair, let's put it all together. 16 for you, 18 for you, makes 34. So 34 for each of you." Another Peacekeeper hands him a whip. Three more turn the teenagers around so their backs are toward Ronan. "Strip them," he snaps.

Minnie buzzes frantically.

"Strip them."

"Yes, Sir."

Soon, both their torsos are bare, their arms raised above their heads, their legs cramped under them.

He hits with no mercy. Bloody lines appear on their bodies. A bright red glow engulfs them. They pass out around the 14th stroke.

The audience stands silent as they are herded into lines to sign in.

Another male escort, Brett Richards, is well-liked among District 6, as he doesn't waste time. "Minnie Monte," he reads, deliberately ignoring the spectacle occurring across from him. "Minnie?"

Two Peacekeepers lift her unconscious body and carry her into the Justice Building.

"And Carson Fair."

Carson strides straight inside, without a thought. All he knows is that he'll have to be allies with this young girl. Maybe neither of them has a chance of winning. But he knows how he'd feel if he didn't try to save her.

Like a repulsive failure.

Again.

this might be too much and too long and too intense. tell me if you think so. ;) but i just felt like i was writing too much fluff.

thanks for all the reviews! keep it up! :D