District One's Jenriko "Jen" Florence's POV

Fear.

It was something that I had never experienced before. It was a basic human emotion, but I remember clearly that I had never felt it before in my life. Even during what could of been life threatening situations. Hell, even when I entered the arena and knew that it was a place of death, I had felt no fear.

I remember that the closest to being scared I had been was feeling shock, surprise, and confusion, but never fear. After all, all I had to do was remain optimistic and know that whatever was in front of me, I could overcome anything. That's what my parents kept on telling, that's what I kept on telling myself.

I guess I started to believe it so much that I eventually got to my head.

Back home, I was better at fighting and using some weapons than the kids my own age. I was sometimes better than some of the older kids as well. So I didn't think that I had anything to fear. I was safe. Nothing could stop me. There was nothing to worry about.

All that had changed when I got my throat slit open by Dylan before I blacked out, only to wake up and see Adrian getting decapitated by Daria.

It was then that all my beliefs started to fall apart, that I started to see the truth. I discovered that what I told myself all those years weren't true. What my parents told me wasn't true. I wasn't invincible. Not even close.

Just because I was better than a lot of other people at fighting, and just because I could dodge throwing knives didn't mean that I was immune to death. That I could just avoid it like a god. Death treated everyone equally. I was no exception.

It was stupid of me to of even thought that.

*Five years ago*

"Jenriko!" My dad shouted at me with annoyance in his voice. "Stop swinging around on that fan and get down here!"

"But spinning around on the fan's really fun." I called out as the world continued to twist and turn in a good way. It was like a merry-go-round, only faster, and better. It was so much fun. I don't see why I should stop.

"I don't care if you think that it's fun or not!" My dad yelled at me. His voice coming from the left and right at different times. "You're supposed to be training, not fooling around!"

"Aw, but dad-" I started, only for him to start shouting again.

"Jenriko! Now!"

"Fine!" I called out as I looked at the surrounding area as it came and went. I saw the edge of the ceiling rails that I had jumped from, and timed my jump so that I would land on it.

I let go of the spinning blade, and flew towards the railing, grabbing it before I descended down with an acrobatic show of how skilled I was.

When I reached the floor, I held out my arms and tried to keep myself steady. "Ta-da!" I shouted in triumph as the world around spun around slightly. "How was that for show-"

I felt myself vomit out everything that I had eaten for breakfast, and more, because I don't remember eating pancakes today. Huh, what about that? I can make food.

"Darn it Jenriko." I heard my dad sigh as I wiped my mouth with my shirt sleeve.

'Oh don't worry dad," I told him, thinking of how his wasn't such a big deal. "It's not that big."

"Yeah, but I'm going to have to clean this up." He told me. To which I shrugged. It was his problem, not mine. It was only a little puke, nothing that he couldn't handle.

"Hey dad," I asked. "Can I not practice today? I want to go out and play with my friends."

"Jen," My father sighed, once again. "You have to practice. Don't you want to be a winning career that'll bring home fame, glory, and money? Don't you want to go into the arena, win The Hunger Games, and get the privilege to say that you're a victor?"

"Well yeah," I told him like it was obvious. Everyone wanted to become a winning career, I was no different. It was the reason why I trained, and I was grateful that my mom and dad were helping me so much. And since they were training instructors, they could give me better training than other parents who wanted to give their kids extra training. "But one day won't make much of a difference. Will it?" I asked innocently while giving him that look that I gave to people when I wanted something. It usually worked with the other kids, and other adults sometimes, but it was always a gamble with my parents. They could sometimes see that I was faking it, that I was trying to get something out of them, or try to get out of something, but it was fun with them. It would be boring if they had the same reactions every time.

"You took four days off last week for you're so called 'fun'." My father told me with a stern voice while glaring at me. "I think you've got some days to make up for."

I sighed, knowing that he wasn't going to quit.

"Fine fine." I told him. "What should we work on?"

"I think we should work on your running, you've seem to of gotten a little slow."

"Okay." I told him, thinking that my running speed wasn't any slower than it had been last time I ran, but I wasn't going to argue with him.

"Good." He said with a smile. "Run a couple of laps around the gym, I'll time you."

I nodded before I took off and started to run around the gym. As soon as I got near the door, I knocked open the door and started to run out.

I didn't want to be stuck inside when it was such a nice day outside. My friends wanted to hang out with me, and I wanted to hang out with them. Training could wait. I was already better then everyone my age, so I could afford to skip a few days. "Jenriko Florence!" I heard my father shout behind me. "Get back here little lady!"

I couldn't help but laugh. Why are you so serious dad? Why were you and mom both so serious? It's not like it's the end of the world just because I want to go outside.

"I'll be back later!" I shouted to my dad as I thought of how much this day was going to be great.

*Two years later*

"Come on Terry, you can do better than that." I told my friend as he continued to swing his training sword at me. He swung, I dodged, it was simple. "You can beat me," I taunted. "I'm not even armed."

To give him a fighting chance, he had a weapon, and all I had was my fists and legs. But even with that advantage, he still couldn't seem to match me. His swings were all missing me, and he was getting tired from swinging his weapon so much.

I on the other hand, wasn't even close to tired. I was saving up all my energy to beat him when he was too exhausted to even lift his sword up. "Come on Terry, one hit and I'm dead." I continued to tell him. "Just one hit."

Terry continued to swing at me, but he just couldn't match me.

He was a year older than me, and literally lived in the training center, and he still couldn't match me. He was a good fighter, but I was better. It wasn't my fault that I was so good.

Terry shouted at me and continued to swing the practice sword at me. But this time, instead of precision strikes, they were wild and fast. But even though they were faster than before, they were easy to read, and so, easy to avoid.

Terry swung the sword left and right, and eventually, he started to slow down. I waited until he could barely swing his sword before I gave him a round house kick to the stomach. Terry gave out a loud gasp before I kicked him in the back of the head with my opposite leg.

My friend was tough, so he didn't go down with the kick to the back of the head. I then got on my hands and planted a two footed kick to his chest, and that, was what got him to the floor, gasping for breath.

I let him breathe in and out for a little bit before I helped him to his feet and gave him a bottle of water.

"Still can't beat you." He breathed out after a minute of recovery.

"It's okay." I told him, understanding that there was no way that he could beat me anyway. "I'm invincible, so the best you can do it hurt me. But you can never defeat me."

"That's great to hear." Terry sighed as set his water bottle down. "Hey, Jen, as a friend, can I ask you something?"

"Shoot." I told him, wondering what he had to say.

"Why do you have to be so arrogant?" He asked. "You seem to take nothing seriously, and you seem to love beating the living shit out of people while humiliating them. Not only that, but you claim to be some kind of invincible force, almost like you're God himself. Or herself, whatever you believe."

"What do you mean?' I asked, not getting what he was trying to say. "I'm not arrogant. I just know that I'm better than most people when it comes to fighting. And I don't like humiliating people, I didn't humiliate you did I?"

"Yes." He told me with a bitter tone. "You did. You dance around people while you beat them up, taunting them for not being at your level, for being weak, like me."

"Your not weak," I told him giving him a pat on the shoulder. "It's just that I'm better."

"That's exactly what I mean Jen." He shouted at me, throwing his hands up in the air. "You're better! But you rub it all in people's faces as they're vomiting up their breakfast, lunch and dinner! And it's all about you! Not everyone can be good at fighting! Nobody can be as good as you! So here you are, walking around like you're a goddess of battle! Do you know the definition of arrogant?"

"I don't know what your-" I said, thinking of how my friend was flying off the handle for losing. I've never seen him like this. Usually he's a good sport about losing, but right now, he seems to be nothing but a sore loser.

'Of course you don't!" He yelled. "You don't see how you treat other people like crap when it comes to violence! Sure you're nice to them in general, but there's another side to you. The one that likes hurting people."

"I don't like hurting unless it's necessary." I told him. "There's training, then there's beating people up for the sake of beating people up, for the sake of hurting them. There's a difference."

"You're too rough." Terry explained. "The time you broke my arm? The time you broke my nose? How do you explain that?"

"Train like you fight," I told him, repeating my parent's words every time someone complained about something hurting, or that someone wasn't fighting fair. "Fight like you train. When you're in the arena, you have to do things to people."

"But not your friends!" He growled at me, shooting me a look of pure anger. "You don't have to beat your friends until their puking their guts out and shitting their brains out their assholes!"

"What are you trying to say?" I asked, wondering what was driving him insane. "That I play too rough?"

"That you never think like a normal, rational civilian!" Terry shouted at me so loudly that it seemed to shake the entire building. "I don't know wither it's just your mindset or something that your parents nailed into your mind, but you think more like a psychopath! Or even worse, a sociopath, if you even know what that mean!"

I didn't, but before I got a chance to open my mouth, my friend continued to rant at me. "You don't care about anything, you only follow what your parents want, and on a whim, you do what you want. You don't seem to care about other people, just about yourself. And don't give me that soldier of District One crap. You're a joker. A wild card that could head in any direction it wants to. Actually, your more of a wild child, doing whatever she feels like at the time, feeling as if she has the right to do whatever to whoever, whenever. Nothing more, nothing less."

What? My brain hurts.

"Terry-" I started, only to feel something hard slam into my face, knocking me to the floor.

"How does it feel to get hurt?" Terry asked before I heard him running away from me.

I stayed on the ground, stunned that my best friend would do something like this. This was so unlike him. What had caused him to suddenly become so angry with me? It's not like I'm any different from what I normally am.

We train like this all the time, and he doesn't usually complain. Just what the heck was going on?

I decided to not bother thinking about it. Terry was just sore from losing from me, again. He'd come back and say that he was sorry. I'd forgive him, then we'd be back to being friends, like he always were. It's not like he could stay at me forever.

*Present day*

And he did come back, but he never did say that he was sorry. He just said that he wanted to continue being my friend, and which I took as a sorry. But I could see now that it wasn't a sorry, he believed what he said. And now, looking back at how I was before, I could honestly say that I couldn't blame him for acting that way. In fact, I'm surprised that he put up with me for so long.

Me. Jenriko. The girl that would beat him up and make fun of him for it.

I had always thought that I was a good person, that because I was nice to people, that I was a good person. But just because I was nice didn't mean that I was a good person. There were so many vices mixed in with my virtues that I started to think that I was just being nice to convince myself that I wasn't like the bad people. People like Calamity and Victory. But in truth, I was closer to them then I'd ever like to admit.

I liked hurting people. I was arrogant, just like the other careers that boasted that they'd come home victorious. I made fun of them because of that, saying that they were losers and that I'd never become like them. Dead. I always thought that when I get into the arena, I'd have no problem killing everyone in my way. That I'd be home without so much as a scratch.

It was because of my training and talents that I thought that I could do anything if I just put my mind to it. That I thought I was invincible.

I was a jerk to Terry, and anyone else that I practiced with. Maybe I was just a jerk in general. It made me hate myself. It made me hate the way that my parents had raised me, trained me, told me how to think and what to do. Terry had been right when he said that I only follow what my parents tell me to do, and on a whim, do whatever the hell I felt like doing.

Terry had been right about a lot of things, but I never listened to him. The only thing that I knew was fighting, so that's what I focused on. I didn't focus on how people were feeling, what people were doing, or what was going on around me. The only time that I seemed to care about what was going on was when something went wrong for me. When I failed at something.

People took advantage of my kindness, and I was too naive to notice. Or maybe I wasn't naive, maybe I just didn't want to see it. I mean, there was a reason that I didn't want to take things to seriously.

The reason that I didn't want to be totally serious, was because that's all my life seemed to be. Serious upon seriousness. My life was revolved around training, and my parents knew that. I wanted to be a victor, they wanted me to be a victor, but I didn't want to train all day every day all the time, I wanted to have fun. I wanted to be like other kids. Normal in a way.

Never having any other friends other than Terry, who I had known since I was six years old, I decided to go out and make friends.

I was nice to them, but I wasn't a nice person. I was happy, but I didn't make others happy. I saw the best in people, even when there was nothing good about them.

Now that I think about it, maybe I wasn't just arrogant about my fighting abilities, maybe I was just arrogant about everything that I did. I was good at making friends, if I can now call them friends, I was good at making people laugh, I was good at keeping order, I was good at everything that I did.

The thought made me laugh with hate. No wonder Terry had a lot of outbursts recently.

Normal. I just wanted to be normal. Have friends, have fun, not take life as seriously as my parents made it out to be, and live life while becoming a victor. So I lived life as I, key word, I, wanted to. I thought I knew what was best for me, but maybe I should of listened to others.

I began to wonder, which would of been the better path? Less training, or more training? Less trying to make friends, or more trying to make friends? Which one of those choices were right?

I wanted to be a victor, but I didn't want to do the intensive training and I didn't want to live my life only knowing one person my age.

Arrogance. Disobedience. Kindness. Naive. Happy go lucky. Me summed up in seven words.

Put on a smile Jen, because everything's going to be okay.

It's funny that I'm thinking like this, finding out more about myself now then I had ever thought I would.

Maybe I should get chased by mutts more often.

Though discovering myself made me feel like killing myself, I kept on going, because I knew that there was something that I needed to make right. And in order for me to make it right, I'd need to live. I needed to make things right in this arena, and I needed to make things right outside the arena. So for that, I needed to live.

Victory and Calamity had to die, and I needed to make that much true. Victory was going to pay for everything she did to this alliance, and to my friends. I felt as if I could call Tanner and Adrian friends, and as for Dylan and Jeremiah, I wanted to call them my friends. We were allies at the very least, so I needed to avenge them as well.

Calamity. He needed to pay for what he did to the district. I allowed him to roam free, so it was my duty to end the terror that he would create if he ever returned to District One. District One was my home, and I wasn't going to hand it over to that monster.

As the cornucopia neared, I somehow knew that this was going to be the moment of truth. It started back home, but it was going to end here, in the arena, at the aged cornucopia where the Capitol expected it all to begin...

And end.

A/N: The past chapters are done. And really, I don't know what to think of them. Chapter 45 was way long. Chapter 46 was too short. This chapter... I don't even know. Short, pretty bad, and something else that I can't think of right now. Maybe I'm just not good at history chapters. Ah well.