My parents approach the fires that puff smoke into the night sky. I hide in a bush behind them. I know they'll be willing to abandon me if these people are overwhelmed by a family of three.

My name is Glitch McKinley, and we've just gone completely bankrupt and have nowhere to go. We used to live with my uncle and his family. My uncle is a man with a long history of violence, actually. He abused myself and my mom. He's been molesting and raping me since I was just 7. Big fun, right? When I told my Dad about it, he just smacked me as hard as he could and told me to live with it. I should be grateful, after all, that I'm even getting something to eat and a place to stay.

So I lived with it after that, feeling it unnecessary to say something again because I don't need any additional whoopings to the ones I already get, thanks.

My cousins and aunt weren't much better. They were upset with my uncle for keeping three extra people under his roof. He has barely enough for his family of four, but three extra people is a lot. None of us get a lot to eat, and the splitting was never really in my favor.

See, I am my name.

A glitch.

I am a glitch, a mistake, never supposed to happen, and I've managed to destroy an entire, otherwise-perfect system. A glitch in the perfect system of my parents' "chastity." When my Mom found out, she married my father quickly and they tried to pretend that they had gotten married and that I was legitimate. Even so, they were found out and cut off.

And it's all my fault. All my fault for existing.

It's all my fault that we're here now, standing in front of the Smog.

The Smog is the poorest part of District 5: only the grimiest, dirtiest people take residence here.

Two people approach Mom and Dad. One of them is a once-strong but now starving man, and the other is a woman who looks 20 years older than I think she really is. They talk to Mom and Dad, and soon my parents are lead in. I guess I wasn't included in the deal. I can't say I'm surprised.

I get up to sneak away but am soon stopped by a hand on the shoulder. My eyes go wide and my breath comes short.

"Heeeeeeeeey," the stranger says. He's a teenager with greasy, wavy hair and a missing left front tooth. He seems to be about 14 or so, which is older than me right now: I'm 11.

Oh no. I'm going to be sick. See, I also have special problems talking to people, especially strangers. I always get myself worked up: What if I do something dumb and disgrace my family!? oh, I'm nothing good! I shouldn't be alive, talking to anyone!

My heart rate picks up, pounding fast and hard. Sweat starts to drip down my face and I gasp for breath. His words go from clear to muffled garbling. Suddenly the whole world becomes blurry, and then goes completely black.

When I wake up, I'm curled in a tight ball of rough cloth and I see a fire burning in front of me. I look around, wondering what happened- then I remember.

I passed out in front of him. He must think I'm a moron.

I look around quietly to look at the faces of some of the others. Then I see the boy who'd found me earlier.

"Oh, you're awake," he says, "Hope you don't mind my bringing you here. So, what's your name?"

I swallow hard. He smiles very kindly at me and I feel slightly comfortable. Whimpering noises squeak out of my mouth, but the boy waits for me to speak patiently. More than anyone's ever done for me before.

"G-Glitch," I squeak out.

He smiles at me and says, "Nice to meet you, Glitch. I'm Tom. My father is the makeshift chief of the Smog."

I nod shallowly. Tom continues, "You picked a good time to show up. Right before the evening Fire." I not again, hugging the rough, smelly canvas that's been provided to me.

He holds a rusty metal cup out to me, full of something hot to the touch.

"Careful," he says quietly. I sip whatever's in the cup and realize it's better than anything I've ever gotten to eat at my Uncle's.

"Some soup," Tom says. "We only save it for really special occasions, so drink up."

I remove the cup from my lips quickly and respond immediately: "I'm not worth special occasions with soup cups."

Tom frowns. "You homeless?"

"My parents came here without me today, so yes."

He looks at me with genle green eyes. "Glitch, everyone is special here. We are the homeless, the kicked-out, the unloved, the poor. We're the mistakes, we're the queers, we're al each other has. We're all those people, just like you. We all understand and love each other. Now, drink up that soup. You deserve it." I'm sure that I barely deserve the soup, but I drink it anyways.

"Besides, kids are even more valuable than adults," Tom points out. "Someday, you'll start the reapings, and each year you can take tesserae for people. There are three of us now. How old are you?"

"Eleven," I mumble quietly.

He nods. "I'm fourteen. Sheila's the girl kid, she's sixteen. She 'nd I split the tessarea half-and-half."

"How many people are there here?"

He thinks. "Well, old Gertrude just passed- finally, she was cranky- but we gained you, and your parents, as well, so that'd be… 23 total. Yes, 23."

"Twenty-three, wow." I can't believe it.

Tom nods. The man and woman that greeted my parents come and start telling everyone in the surrounding area, "Fires out!" There's some quiet grumbling as people light torches and some weak lanterns and soon the fires all go out.

The couple comes over and the man says, "Tom." My new friend nods, grabbing a stick. "I'm on it, Dad."

"Who's this?" asks the woman. My heart rate picks up again at receiving sudden attention. My stomach tightens.

"This is Glitch," Tom introduces for me, "He's eleven. His parents showed up without him tonight."

The woman gasps and frowns, "Oh, poor baby!" a blush spreads across my face: and not a healthy one. I'm not worth all this fuss.

The man is frowning, too, when I look up. "Tom, why don't you take Glitch back to our place?" he asks quietly. "He can stay there until his parents are ready for him again."

Tom nods. "Sure. Come with me," he says. His torchlight moves forward and I follow Tom to his family's little… I dunno what to call it.

The first word that comes to my mind is junkyard, but it's a homely junkyard. Tom yawns and lays on top of a sheet, wrapping it around himself. I lay next to him and copy him.

"Night," he says, before falling asleep.

I lay awake for a while, unsure if this might be the best thing to happen to me or the worst.

I wake up one morning, months later, with a tremendously sore throat. My hand goes to the broken glasses I've been wearing since I turned 12. I sneak out of the McKinley junkyard before my Dad can wake up and go straight to the Morrison tent: Tom's tent. I crawl in and see him sitting awake on his canvas.

"Morning, Little Guy," he says, patting the spot next to him.

"Where's Sheila?" I ask. Sheila Carson is the girl teenager in the Smog, is now 17 and dating Tom. She's a prostitute (to get money and I think for the fun of it) which means that they have a rocky relationship.

"Out."

"You're arguing again?"

"No way," he sighs. And now I'm going to get a long story about their crazy night together in Sheila's tent. Trust me, you don't want to heart Tom talk about his nights. But he never hesitates to do so.

"So then she started kissing me as hard as she could possibly could, then-" he blinks. "You don't look so into my story, Little Guy."

"I'm not." I really regret saying things like this, but Tom never gets offended, and that's a relieving thought.

"Oh. I bet I can make it more interesting. God, if you were always bored, why didn't you just say?"

I shrug, automatically feeling in the wrong again, a feeling which is normal but still unpleasant.

"No worries, Little Guy. No worries at all." He wears a crooked smile and then gets up, stretching. "So, where was I?"

"Uh, kissing…"

"Ah, yes. Well, let's make it fun. Do a little acting…" He gets on his knees and is suddenly very close to me.

"Uh…"

"So, first it was this."

And suddenly he kisses my lips. An alarm blares in my head and I scramble backwards.

"T-Tom!"

He grins. "No need to be embarrassed. No matter how much a virgin you are. You know I won't judge."

I swallow hard. "You know I'm not a virgin. I've told you that!"

He blinks. "Oh, that barely counts. Let's you and I just have a little fun, and you can lose it for real this time."

"Or, uh, not…" I stammer, but my heart starts to beat faster and faster and soon he kisses me again. I don't kiss him back: as if I actually knew how: but he doesn't stop at something as simple as a kiss. Soon his hands are everywhere I don't want them to be. I try to jerk my hips away from his, try to fight back, do something, but it's no use. Tom's lips touch my neck, and soon work downward. He strips my shirt off and I try to make noise but find that it doesn't come so easily. I don't want attention: I may pass out from that.

I dunno if Tom mistakes my whimpers for moans or if he doesn't care because he doesn't stop what he's doing. Finally he strips off my pants and I gasp out, "Tom… Please… Please stop…"

He grins as he tugs my underwear off and says, "No no no, Glitch, that's not what I said. His voice decrescendos to a small whisper. "Talk dirty to me, McKinley."

The only thing that can escape my lips are whimpers, and it's all I can do to beg him to stop.

He kisses my waist and starts stripping himself. I close my eyes and just will myself to not pass out. Not like he'd stop if I blacked out, but I want to know what's happening to my body and the only way to get the truth is to live through it.

I just have to keep living through it.

I try to avoid Tom at all costs after that: I can't even talk to him anymore without throwing up my guts. I stick to Sheila mostly, because though she is suggestive, she gets enough from her clients and Tom. However, our time together is never long before he shows up, and things get awkward really fast. He talks to me as if that night: and the other times after that: never happened, but I can't treat him the same way.

"Come on, Little Guy! Be a cool dude, forgive and forget, right?"

I scowl every time he says this, and Sheila says, "Tom, you can't ask him to do that! He's just a little kid!"

"Ha, you obviously didn't see his dick!"

"I didn't," she says, before asking, "…Why?"

"Uh, nobody should care, it's my own property, not yours!"

"It's a good one."

"Oh, please. As if."

"You'll see for yourself someday."

"Uh, no she won't!"

But I've been ignored again. I'm much too used to being ignored.

"Maybe I will!"

"I don't think you're good enough!"

"I'm better than you!"

"You guys," I mumble, trying to slip out of the room but am grabbed by the shirt and kept behind.

"He doesn't know what he's saying!" she shouts angrily. "Aren't I right!?"

"Uh…" I dunno what to say to that. "I'm 12," I point out.

"Then let's do it."

"What?"

"Come on!" she says, straddling me. "I want to see it!"

This has got to be a nightmare. I have to be dreaming.

Wake up, Glitch. Glitch… Wake up! WAKE UP!

No matter how hard I try to think it, it isn't happening. This is real life, it has to be. I'm not in control of myself at all, and Sheila is a lot rougher than Tom. Every time there's a break in her kissing me, I try to gasp out, "No," but I guess she either doesn't hear or ignores it.

I guess I don't fit in anywhere. I'm nothing but a stupid glitch.

Fast forward to the night before my second ever reaping. This year I have my name in twenty times. Last year, before the whole sex thing started, I felt bad for Tom and Sheila, who both had their names in over forty times, so I split it unevenly and took eleven shares, and they then split the remainder half-and-half and took six. This year I realized it wasn't worth it, and now regret having such a big number as eleven following me for the rest of my reaping years and took seven, while the other two both took eight.

This year I realize the chances of me getting picked are very large and I may have to go to the Arena this year, year 21 of the Hunger Games. I don't think I could do it, honestly. I passed out in front of one stranger, what if I'm being watched by thousands!?

My parents stay out that night and Tom decides to visit. I try to fight it but soon realize it's pointless. He bites me on the neck and I yelp but suddenly get an idea. But it involves me facing my biggest fear.

"Hey, hold it!" He doesn't stop, and I don't expect him to, so I keep talking.

"Look, it must barely be fun to do it to someone who never does anything. But, I'd be willing to make a deal if you wanted some real action."

He looks up. "Okay. I'm interested."

"I'm absolutely terrified of sex in any way that's possible. But, I'm even more terrified of the Games. So… I'll play along with you tonight if you promise that you'll volunteer for me if I'm reaped tomorrow. And if I'm not reaped, good for you, I guess."

He thinks of this, a smile on his face. "Alright, McKinley. You're on."

And that's why I wake up the next morning aching all over. I just close my eyes and know that the worst is behind me. Tom's already gone when I wake up, and my parents are back.

"Get up!" Dad shouts. "Can't be late for your reapings! We might get rid of you today." I get up and cringe. I barely got any sleep, considering Tom kept it up for a long while and I didn't sleep another long while afterward. I put on my glasses and get dressed.

I'm denied breakfast when I ask Mom and Dad, and am given a punch or two. So, I go outside and walk to the Square slowly. After a long wait, the reaping starts. Our escort is a short, fat man that resembles a grape. He picks the girl's name first.

"Kara Chess!" I know of this girl. One time, after a harsh argument between Tom and Sheila, she was the object of Sheila's affection while I was apparently her sex toy. Kara's a pretty girl, too, and she's actually pretty well-off financially.

Then he steps up and picks the boy's name. I close my eyes tightly.

"Glitch McKinley!" My eyes snap open and I realize that's me. I hear gasps from my parents and wait for Tom to volunteer for me. He promised. An eerily long time passes and nobody steps up to take my place. My heart pounds in my chest. Any day now, Tom!

Soon, though, I feel hands roughly grip my shoulders and push me forward. I stumble, looking for someone, anyone, to take my place. I can't go into the Arena!

They shove me right past the 16's and I catch his eye in the crowd. Tears bubble up in my eyes and I beg him to take my place. He will. I have faith.

I'm forced up the stairs to the stage, and the escort finally asks for volunteers.

There's complete silence.

Before I know it, he announces, "Everyone, your tributes!" Kara shakes my hand and I realize that I've been taken advantage of. I've been played for a fool. I can't believe it.

I'm going into the Hunger Games.

As soon as I get into the Justice Building, I start working myself up. I looked like an idiot! I have a huge target now! I've been used! I'M GOING TO DIE IN FRONT OF THE WHOLE NATION! I collapse in a corner and throw up. Suddenly I hear the door open and see a much-too-familiar figure in the doorway.

This could very well be my last chance to fight him back.

"Hey little guy. Up for a quickie, eh?"

I stiffen and turn to face him.

"I just got humiliated in front of the entire District, soon to be the entire NATION. I've been puking my guts out and you come to ask me for a quickie!?"

Rage circulates in my veins like it never has before in my life.

"You still don't get it, do you?"

"Get what?!"

"This was all fake, Glitch. There are two kinds of people in this world: those who have potential, and those who are there to be manipulated by those people with worth. You were always the scum off the bottom of the barrel. You aren't smart, and you aren't funny, and you aren't social enough to make friends. You're a freak. Certainly a glitch in the system. Though not a bad dick, when you use it. But what's that going to get you? Nothing, because you pass out whenever you see a stranger. You think half those people in the Smog are worth something?! Of course they're not. But we'll make them believe they are so that we can get them to work, and get us food. And you, my friend. You… You were the easiest of all them to manipulate. Don't you understand? You were perfectly obedient, just as you were taught by your parents. And you were even so sweet that you took the tesserae burden off of Sheila and me. And we'll be sure to thank you for that at your funeral. You were never worth a penny, yet alone a bowl of soup. But you made a perfect little doll for Sheila and myself to play with. And now we're done with you, Glitch. So you're going to go into the Arena and die there, and we'll try to mooch some winnings from the real Victor. Hopefully it'll be Kara."

To say my soul's just been smashed to pieces would be an understatement. I feel every bad feeling it would ever be possible to feel right here at this moment. I feel upset, and hurt, and betrayed, and especially angry.

Rage builds up in my gut until it suddenly explodes out of me and I back-talk someone for the first time in my life.

"That's not what's going to happen. I'm going to gain confidence, go into that Arena, and win the Hunger Games! Then I'll come back to District 5, and I will absolutely spoil you, and Sheila, and my Mom and Dad. Whatever you want. Jewelry, gold, food, and I'll have all the sex you want, whenever, and I'll be happy." He scoffs and my voice lowers to a dangerously low growl. "But then, then," a crooked, evil smile creeps across my face, "I'm going to go on a train to the Capitol, and I'm going to walk to the Presidential mansion and tell President Atilius Augustus that he can GO AND FUCK HIMSELF BACKWARDS! And I swear to God, Tom Morrison, he will come up with only the worst ways to kill everyone I love: Sheila, and you, and my parents, and everyone else who's ever wronged me! I'LL be the one laughing in the end! I WILL!"

He slugs me across the face and when I look up from the black that covered my vision, Tom's gone and I have no other visitors.

I realize just then how wrong I was. I can't win the Games. And I certainly don't have the courage to swear at President Augustus. That was the first time I'd ever sworn in my whole life, after all. But I don't care at this point.

When I lose the Games, it won't matter anymore because I'll finally be dead.