A/N: Hello everyone, this is Novice speaking, and I'm here to talk about the chap that is below this author's note.

So, its been over a year since this story was completed, but this was a little thing I thought of and I thought that I'd share it with you guys. It features Valley Valentine and takes place after the events of the story but during the events of the epilogue.

Read if you're interested. Ignore if not.

Story Summary: After the death of her sister and having to endure the punishments of her mother, Valley Valentine has grown bitter and numb. Caring for nobody and nothing, Valley will discover just how much her humanity has been stripped dry.

Word count: 4,555

Tags: Tragedy?

At first there were three of us. There was my brother, my sister, and myself. But then my brother, Vladimir Valentine, volunteered for the Hunger Games and got slain by that District Four bitch, Creek Drake.

It was then down to my sister and I. It was us against the world. And while I didn't understand it at the time, she was taking much of the hardship from my mother and directing it towards herself. But then she, Victory Valentine, volunteered for the Hunger Games, and got slaughtered by a District One cunt named Jenriko Florence.

After that, I was truly alone in this world. My father was transferred shortly after my sister's game to take command of the peacekeepers in District Ten, and because of that, there was no one to try and tame my sadistic mother and her horrific training methods. From there, I knew what suffering truly was.

Kept isolated from those I once called friends and classmates, I was treated to a brutal regime of training that was tougher than anything the academy taught. One that my mother had inflected on my brother and sister before me. Only worse. Much worse.

Because her previous methods failed to produce a victor, my mother increased the intensity of her training program, and made my life a living hell.

There was no one to help me. No one to save me. It was just me, my mother, and the training.

Everyday I would wake up to a nightmare, live it, and then fall asleep. Only for the morning to come too soon.

I hate this.

Years passed since my sister had been murdered. Years of suffering and misery, all for this moment. It wasn't something that I wanted to do, but I was going to do it anyway. After all, if I didn't volunteer, I was going to end up dead.

I wasn't scared of her though. She was much weaker than me thanks to her advancing age and the training that she gave me.

It would be easy. So easy to just get behind her and strangle her to death. It would be even easier to twist her neck around so hard that it snapped. I liked to dream that I could do just that, but that was all it was, a dream. If I did that, I wouldn't last a day in my district. After all, even though my father had been moving from district to district, he was still the head peacekeeper of District Two, and my mom was still his wife.

So I endured her. I put up with her. And now here I am, in the reaping square, ready to get thrown into that deadly game at the age of eighteen. Because even though I was technically volunteering, it wasn't really my choice. It was that or death. And I personally wanted to live.

I listened around me, and I heard the other teenagers whispering among themselves. They looked to me, and quickly averted their gaze when they saw that I noticed them looking at me. I knew what they were talking about, why they were looking at me. They were talking about me and my family. They knew that I was volunteering, and because of the deaths of my siblings, they thought I was going to die as well.

But they weren't going to say that to my face. They were too scared to do such a thing. They feared me, as they should. But their opinions didn't matter. It was the other tributes that should fear me. And if they didn't. Well, they'd learn.

The escort called a name, and I volunteered. Nobody challenged me. They knew what would happen if they did. They might of thought that they were brave, strong, and worthy warriors. But they were actually weak, cowardly, and undeserving. They didn't have the guts to say what they thought to my face. They weren't brave enough to challenge me to a fight. And they certainly didn't think twice about even looking at me the wrong way. They knew that they were fucked if I put in the effort to fight them.

When I announced my name, I heard the escort mutter something that sounded like: 'Another family failure, huh.'

The reputation of my siblings still weren't forgotten. And to automatically label me as a failure wasn't something that you wanted to do. But what would a Capitol bitch like you know?

I wasn't my brother. Nor was I my sister. I was a whole other person, and everyone better watch out.

They might label me as a goner, but didn't ever see or hear anyone say it to me.

When I came into a room, the other kids went silent. They stopped what they were doing and looked at me before they turned away. Terrified of me. They wanted nothing to do with me. They thought that I would end their lives if they so much as said something I didn't like. And I could of. I could of easily. They knew not to mess with me. So they turned away from me. Wanted nothing to do with me. Withdrew themselves and left me in solitude.

Well what did I care? I didn't need them. I had survived without friends or outside support since my sister had died. They didn't want me, and I didn't want them.

I hate this.

The escort was useless. She was more interested in my district partner, because I was already deemed a loser. I was going to be the unlucky third sibling to die in the arena. And while she said that I was going to be a massive threat in the arena, I was still going to lose.

She didn't like me from the get go because of my family name. She hated me even more when we started to eat. She said that the way I ate was inhuman. That someone from my district should have more dignity and should eat like a normal human being. Well if she had been starved and feed scraps more suited for dogs day after day, manners would of been the last thing on her mind.

As for my dignity, I had been stripped of that long ago. My mother, to keep up my motivation, and to ensure that I was performing to a superior matter, she had humiliated me in the worst possible forms. From the beat downs that I had to endure, to the public humiliations of walking around the district in filthy rags, barefoot, and with a shaved head, while holding a sign that made people point and laugh. Those were easy torments I had to endure.

There were also the times where she had invited men and woman alike to the house and allowed them to live out their pedophilia fantasies. Staying out in the cold, at night, during the winter with no clothes, shelter, or food. Things like those were hard.

Any kind of dignity and honour that I had once had had died since I was young.

Mentor was useless. He gave me useless advice and told me that I still had a chance of winning, but I could tell that those were hollow words. They were as hollow as the words that those sick freaks that raped me said to me.

Everything that he told me I already knew. And what little he did tell me that wasn't useless advice were false assurances.

My district partner, while he had his uses, was also useless. He was just like every other District Two male that volunteered for the games. Someone who's arrogance radiated around him so greatly that I could of sliced it with a knife. He thought that he was going to win, but that wasn't true. I was going to win.

He didn't consider me a threat, just an obstacle. I wasn't an obstacle, he was. He thought that because I was a Valentine I was going to die and there was no changing that. Well fuck him. If he was going to be like that, it was only going to make returning home that much easier. And if the other careers thought the same way, it was only going to be that much easier.

My prep-team and stylist were useless. They said that they'd fix me up, but didn't put the same amount of effort they did with my district partner. Probably because they thought I was a goner already. Just like everyone else.

They said that I wasn't as pretty as my sister, and I didn't have the heroic figure of my brother.

Indeed, I may have their features, but not to the extent they had been. I was taller than my sister, but not as beautiful. I had an athletic figure, but I wasn't as strong or tall as my brother. And the scars that littered and stretched my face didn't earn any points with the Capitol, because looking tough and rugged was for guys, not girls.

They wanted beautiful and seductive girls. Instead, they said that I gave them the creeps with my appearance and additude. They said that my eyes were soul less and had no spark of life inside. They said that I was dead now, and that I'd be dead later.

I hate this.

Everything related to combat that was being taught in the Capitol training room I already knew.

Long range. Mid range. Short range. Traps. I knew all of that already. The only things that I didn't know were survival related, because District Two only cares about the combat elements. My mother was no exception. So that's where I went to, the survival stations.

The non-careers didn't come any where near me, leaving stations as I got close. My fellow careers on the other hand laughed at me. They thought that because I was studying up on survival that I was one of those pathetic non-careers in disgust. They said that because I was studying up on plants instead of combat was because I was afraid of fighting.

Oh how wrong they were. I was a girl, but I was stronger than perhaps any other kid in this place. They didn't know who they were messing with.

Call me arrogant, but anything and everything related to combat, I knew enough of. After all, I spent my life studying the art of combat and getting into such good physical condition I think I might of reached my peak. I could run father, faster, and better than anyone in the academy. I could fight and beat full grown adults. So if I want to focus on survival, so be it.

The other careers would taunt me, calling me a dead girl walking. Saying that because my brother and sister couldn't win, that I wouldn't be returning home either. Told me that I had zero chance of beating any of them.

Still, even though my allies only had one brain cell each that was fighting for dominance inside it's own head, I still had use for them. So I stayed with them.

And surprise surprise, all of them wanted to be the leader of the pack. I told them that I was going to be the leader of the pack, and they all laughed. They asked why I should be the leader, and I told them that I knew more about strategy than all of them put together, and that I could best any of them in combat.

They then tried to beat me in a quick fight, but I quickly grounded them before the peacekeepers ended the fight. And while they didn't like it, I was from then on, the leader of the pack.

One of them especially didn't like that I had taken charge. The District One female. I despised her because she was from the same district my sister's killer was from. I despised her even more when she ambushed me in the bathroom and managed to dunk my head in the sink, trying to drown me, or at the very least scare me. Unfortunately for her, I was very familiar with this situation, and had endured worse than that.

I got my head out of the sink, slammed the back of my head into her nose, effectively breaking it, and then proceeded to beat the living shit out of her. I had pounded her face into the sink so hard that the sink had broke. I left her in such a state that SHE thought I had killed her.

The Capitol medics managed to heal her in time for the game, and nobody challenged my position again.

Everyone feared me, but nobody respected me.

I hate this.

The bloodbath was the most feared part of the games for the non-careers. For one, it could of been their last moment of life, and the thoughts that raced through their head only made things worse for them.

They were the smart ones, because while careers don't fear death until it's right in front of them, the non-careers knew that death was only one step away. And because of that, they tried their very hardest to keep their grip on life. Careers were sloppy with their lives, thinking that they were invincible until only seconds before death. That was a fatal mistake on their part. They didn't respect life properly, and didn't fear death.

Those that don't fear death are one of three things. Liars, dead, or dead people walking. That's why those tributes that fear death win. Because they don't want to die. So what do they do? They survive with all their might.

But sometimes even that's not enough. Just as the bloodbath victims found out.

Ten died during the bloodbath, all non-careers. They fell under our might, but then the hard part comes. The part where you have to survive the arena and hunt, avoid, or just plain stay alive for as long as possible.

The arena was a shanty town with buildings crudely made of cement, brick, stone and sheet metal. And there was sand. Sand was everywhere. It resembled something anarchic. A place where law and order meant nothing. There were no rules, a place where you run wild and do whatever the hell you want. It would of suited better with my sister's game instead of that underground shelter she had been in.

Things went well for us in the beginning. They followed my orders. They grumbled about it, but they, reluctantly, followed my orders. And because of that, we swiftly massacred the non-careers. We worked fast and efficient, no bullshit.

But my allies didn't like following my orders. Especially when they considered me to be dead anyway.

They should of really just let it go, because we were making fast work of the enemies, but their pride wouldn't allow them to follow the instructions of a so called dead girl walking.

To them, enough was enough. They didn't like me, and they guessed that enough non-career tributes had died before they turned on me.

They attacked me from all angles. It was a classic, but brutally effective move. Over power your opponent with sheer numbers and over whelm them. After all, there's only so much that someone can do when five other people are attacking them all at once.

I managed to escape, but not unscratched. I was hurt. I was bleeding. And I was angry. How dare they do that to me!

I managed to lose them, but they were still trying to track me. Eventually they split up and started to look for me separately. It was an amateur mistake, but because I was injured and weakened to the point of losing teeth and bleeding over areas of my body, they thought that I was going to be helpless. They were wrong. I had endured this everyday since my sister had died. Nearly all my teeth were false ones anyway.

I found one of them alone. The District Four male. And though he was more muscular than me and the arena only provided blunt weapons, I knew that I could beat him.

Getting behind him, I wrapped my arms around his neck and in an instant, he was in a choke hold. I was going to suffocate him to death, but things didn't go in my favor. He managed to escape, and a savage fight occurred between him and I.

Even with my brass knuckles, he kept on coming. And though he kept on hitting me with his weapon, a bo staff, I continued to fight him despite the injuries.

We were both injured badly. Blood running everywhere. But after he threw me through a weak wooden door and I landed on a coffee table that broke upon impact, I managed to turn the fight around.

His bo staff had broke, so he was using only his fists.

Laying on my stomach, I grabbed a table leg that had been severed from the now busted table. That's when he grabbed my leg to drag me out of reach of potential weapons. Unfortunately for him, I was already holding a weapon.

Swinging the table leg, I smashed it across his face until he fell to his knees. I continued to hit him across the face until he was down on his face. By then, his face was already cut open with many cuts. Blood was running down his face. But it wasn't enough. He wasn't dead.

I stood up and battered him in the face with the improvised weapon. With each hit, his face opened up a little bit more, and more blood and skin spilled into the sand. Teeth fell from his mouth as a torrent of blood streamed from his mouth. Somewhere in the middle of his beat down, his left eye exploded as his eye socket concaved into it. The pressure was just too much for it.

By the time the chair leg was in splinters, the entirety of the left side of his face had been ripped open, exposing muscle, veins, and skull. Free of any attached skin.

I was in bad shape as well, but functioning well. And because of the medical supplies at the cornucopia, I managed to patch myself up so that I had a chance to heal some.

Soon my so called allies appeared, and I told them if they wanted to turn against me, they'd end up like the District Four guy. They didn't try to attack me after that. They were too scared. They couldn't belive that I could of actually done that. Taken on a career bigger and stronger than myself, and win. Sure I was lacerated a bit and was bleeding some, but I was still a threat. A threat that was functioning like a demon from Hell.

Then they left me.

They left in the middle of the night as I watched the perimeter, leaving me with no supplies and no allies. They had gotten away from me, and were too afraid of me to put up a fight then and there.

Now I had no supplies. No allies. And no support from the Capitol. I was alone in this hostile wasteland.

Feared. Strong. Deadly. But alone.

I hate this.

They hid from me. Cowards.

They ran from me. Cowards.

They fought with me and lost. Weaklings.

The non-careers were all cowards and weaklings, that's what I found as I alone traveled the arena, killing anyone in my path. Of course there weren't many left because of my tactics earlier, but those that were still alive were threats, and I needed to rid the arena of them.

They were no trouble. But when it finally came time for the final show down, the gamemakers forcefully guided me to my final opponents. My former allies in all their glory. The remaining four of them.

None of them had died, and they were all in bad shape. Starvation and dehydration will do that to a person. I should know. And with the fights that they had to do with the non-careers, it would of wearied down on them in their current state as well.

I was going to kill them, and then they'd see just who were the walking corpses.

I fought with all my power, and killed two of them in the process. But in the end, I got over powered.

They had broken my bones, cut open my flesh so badly that the brown of my bones were showing, and I had lost so much blood I was fading in and out of consciousness and seeing triple.

There I was. On the ground. Battered and beaten just as badly as my brother and sister before me. The pain was unbelievable. It was torture just to keep on breathing, but I wouldn't give up. I couldn't give up. I was going to win, and those two weren't going to stop me from winning. They were going to die. I was so close to killing them.

Both of them heavily injured, their movements slowing down. They were weakened. I could do it. I could do it!

Everything that I had suffered for was going to pull through.

I couldn't die! Not yet!

The last two tributes in my way. The District One male, and the District Four female. I was going to kill them! It wasn't going to be the other way around!

I tried to move, but couldn't. Even just breathing sent torrents of pain crashing through me.

The two tributes looked at me, and I glared at them. I wanted to fucking kill them, but I couldn't.

Finally, they lifted up their legs and started to stomp on my head. More unimaginable pain washed over me, and I couldn't defend myself from their assault. I couldn't even move. They were mercilessly beating me to death, and there wasn't absolutely nothing I could do about it.

Worthless. I was worthless.

My life added up to nothing. My entire life I was meant to win. I was trained to win. Molded to win. Everything that I had done was supposed to add up to me winning. Everything that my brother and sister had done.

Our lives were wasted. Useless.

Was I crying?

I hate this.

Where was I?

Looking around, I had no idea where I was. Everything around me was a light grey, but it was also white. It was a strange shade of grey that I had never seen. And it was bright, but at the same time, dark.

And it was... Slightly distorted?

"Am I..." I started, before pausing. "Am I dead?"

"Yes." A voice answered, shocking me. Still, despite the shock, I continued to look at the drab.. Sky? It had no sun, no moon, no nothing. Just a grey horizon that seemed to stretch on forever.

"Comforting." I sarcastically told them.

"Not what you expected to hear?" They replied.

"Of course not." I answered. "Who wants to hear that they're dead?"

"Maybe I'm lying?" They said.

"Why do I think that you're not lying." I told them, thinking of the last thing I saw before I blacked out. Two other teenagers stomping on me along with immense pain rippling through my body. Pain that had, for some reason, disappeared.

No pain, no feeling in my body, memories of a past life, that's why I didn't argue with her when she said that I was dead. It was the only thing that made sense. The only reason that I was feeling strangely calm. Peaceful for the first time in years. Not suffering from chronic pain and fatigue.

"Because I'm not."

"Thought so."

Pause came between us before she spoke again.

"Aren't you going to freak out?" The girl asked. "Almost everyone else does for one reason or another."

"No." I answered. "I don't really care that I died, in a way. I think it's better off this way. I... Didn't really want to live anyway now that I think about it."

"Because...?"

"Because life wasn't worth living. My life was Hell on earth, and I wasn't really living for anything either. Just for my mother's stupid dream. Her dream of making one of her kids a victor because of some stupid jealousy."

"Emmm. One of those parents."

"Yes. One of those parents." I nodded. "My brother and sister died because of that. They protected us. Protected me. They had a purpose in life. Protect me. Protect us. My brother protected my sister and I. My sister protected me. Who did I have to protect? Nobody. I stayed alive, for the sake of staying alive."

"Nobody wants to die."

"Yeah? Well, I wanted to die, but I continued to live a hollow, purposeless existence. I had no original thoughts, goals, or purpose. I was stripped of identity and dignity. If you ask me, living a life like that is a fate worse than death. You're not alive. But at the time, all you want to do is stay alive."

"Well. You're here now. Everything's all right now, Valley."

My eyes widened at the sound of my name. The name of someone that was dead like me.

"How do you know my name?" I asked as I turned my head to face the person I was speaking to, only to get the surprise of my dead life. The girl that I was talking to, the one that was looking down at me, was my sister. Victory. I then gave out my biggest gasp ever. "Victory!"

I swiftly scrambled to my feet and jumped towards her, pulling her into a big hug. "I thought I was never going to see you again!" I cried out, letting tears flow from my eyes. I hadn't cried since I was twelve years old. Oh how I missed it.

And my sister. My sister. She was how she was supposed to be. Beautiful. She didn't look like the person that the arena had made her. She was like she was before the arena. The way that I had always pictured her in my mind.

"I didn't think you were going to be here so soon." My sister told me, embracing me in a hug of her own. A great smile on her face as we held each other close. "Though, it might be better this way, from what you've explained to me. Mom's doing?"

"Yeah." I answered.

"Bitch." Victory gave out a loud sigh before continuing. "Doesn't matter now though. We're here, she's there. Everything's okay now."

"Yeah. I guess it is." I told her, sniffing my running nose. Tears and snot were on her shirt, but she didn't seem to mind in the least.

Our hug broke apart before she took my hand and started to lead me somewhere.

"Come on! There's someone else who'd really want to see you!"

"Who?" I asked as I ran hand in hand with her.

"Vlad."

I gasped again.

"Vlad's here?"

"Oh yeah." She said with a smile. "Our brother's here as well."

I couldn't help but let my smile widen.

At first there was three of us. Then two. Then one. Then none. But at the same time, at first there was none. Then one. Then two. Then at last, there was the three of us again.

I love this.