Nick

I was just training, and suddenly I got a girlfriend.

Well, she wasn't really a girlfriend. In fact, she was a complete stranger.

I was just being calm, and doing the typical avoiding home for fear of my parents and their rage. Everyone else had gone home from a long day, and I let my long day become even longer.

Sometimes, I like being alone. It lets me clear my head and deal with the world around me. It helps me to realize that I am Nick, not Trevor, not Valentina, and not Nate, either. I need to remember that sometimes.

I was 15 when it happened. I was training with spears when I heard the door fly open and a panicked little girl (alright, so she wasn't very little but she was pretty cute and chubby) ran in, looking around with wide eyes. She had rusty red hair and eyes to match, with light freckles painting her cheeks. Soon, a boy ran in after her, breathing heavy. He had a ball cap on and was slightly pale and very lanky, his brown hair swooshing over his eyes.

"C'mon, Fujita! I was just horsing around! When boys tease you it means they like you! Didn't your Mama tell you that?!"

"Shut your face, Peter!" she said, backing closer to me. She was trying to read my expression, but I have quite the poker face. When you grow up with two emotionally damaged parents that are obsessed with you becoming a rich and famous murderer, you get used to it.

"Besides… This is my boyfriend."

"Oh, yeah, of course he is!"

I dropped the spear I was holding and put an arm around her supportively. "Yeah. He is."

"Oh yeah?"

"Yeah. Touch her and you die."

"Why's she never mentioned you before, then?"

"Because I told her not to."

"Some boyfriend."

"He's not allowed to be dating," she said calmly, like she had spent her entire life practicing it. "His parents."

"Oh yeah?"

"Yeah. Would you like to meet them?" I showed him a bruise on my shoulder. His face went pale and he shook his head.

"Now beat it, and don't even look at her funny again." I put as much power behind my voice as my father always did when he commanded my mother and me. He waved a bit, though his eyes said This isn't over! But, he left pretty quick.

I gave her a quick squeeze of the shoulders before letting go.

"Thanks. Sorry." And before I could ask anything about it, she was gone.

~.~.

X

I don't remember exactly how they told me the news, or where or when, or really, how I initially reacted. In fact, after hearing the news (who told me again? Who knows?) the most recent memory I have is from that night.

I remember the soft, gentle summer winds that blew and the large yellow moon that appeared in the sky that night room. I remember lighting a cigarette and sharing the lighter. I remember how quiet we both were. It seemed the only thing we could think to talk about was the news. And I didn't even want to hear about it.

I didn't think smoking was a very good idea for him. I told him that.

He said, "Fujey, I've already got cancer, so what's the big deal? Gimme one." He meant it as a joke. I didn't find it incredibly funny.

"You need to lighten up," he said, "You're not even the one that's gonna go nuts here."

"You shouldn't be saying that! They should know how to treat you and treat you!" I protested.

"Fujey, cool your jets. They said it'd be gradual."

The news I'm referencing wasn't about the cancer. It was more about the dumbass doctors don't even know how to treat cancer. Thanks to some side effects, my brother's memory is going, they said. They said he's got dementia. Don't ask who they is, I wouldn't know.

"Or because you're not a perfect little show-dog for them anymore." My brother, top of his class, ready to volunteer for the Games that I hate. Now that everyone knows what he's gone through, they've completely cut him off. Nobody will even look at him.

Now, he's just the dying sap with the big-mouthed, chubby and curvy older sibling that yells at everyone all the damn time.

"Dementia. Sounds like a good name for a kid."

"You're already losing it." I tried to joke but it didn't come out very easily.

I'm not a joker. I'm a thinker. Which apparently makes me a colossal bitch.

He tried a dumb laugh. "Yeah."

It made me so angry. Not the joking around, but the way the hospital treated him. The Games are everything here in Two, and I absolutely hate them. And I hate the way they treat my brother like he's nothing because he can't volunteer for them.

"Smoke it all away," he said. "Just smoke the ruined future away." I wish he didn't have to say it like that. "Smoke away the failure."

"You're not a failure. The Games don't define you."

"Fujey," he laughed a little bit. "The Games are everything. You think we're independent and strong, but we're just hamsters running around the Capitol's wheels, and we don't even know it. Just like all the rest of them." I held his words close to my heart, and I still do to this very day.

"Right…" There was a pause.

"Hey, Fujey?"

"What?"

"I don't ever want to be past the point of sanity."

"Huh?"

"If I don't recognize you, I want you to overdose me with something. By that point I won't even know it. Please."

"Wh-What!?"

"Promise me!"

"Absolutely not!" I can't be the reason he dies!

"Promise!"

"No!"

"Fujey!"

"I can't be the reason you die!" I shout at him.

"Then you'll be the reason I live in sullen misery!" That made my throat catch. "Promise."

I swallowed hard. The tears that I hated sprung to my eyes. I felt unspeakably weak and vulnerable, but finally I nodded. "Fine. I Promise."

He nodded a bit, his dark gray eyes shining with remorse and regret. "Get some sleep. I'll see you tomorrow morning." He put out his smoke and rolled over in bed.

My stomach was doing somersaults from grief. But, he seemed to be sleeping, so I got up and closed the window.

"Good night, Arachnid." I left the room and closed the door, walking back home.

~.~.

And, that's how I got in the slammer. I pulled some pretty theatrical stunts in the name of Arachnid. I wanted revenge for how he was treated. Revenge on the Games.

I got whipped three or four times, and it probably didn't help that I fought back. Eventually, they got tired of having to drag my ass up to the stage to whip me and just put me behind bars.

Unfortunately for them, though, it was an incredibly easy escape once all the guards were spluttering drunk. That's what got me on the Most Wanted List. A revolutionary that hates the Games, from District 2 of all places, that knows how to use tools to get out of their poorly-guarded prison.

I knew I had to run soon, but I dropped by the house anyways, to say goodbye and grab some stuff. I packed up a bag with a binder, a couple changes of clothes, and some food and water, and then I went to Arachnid's room.

"Hey."

He looked up from where he was tapping his fingers quietly.

"Hi," he said. He looked and sounded so much worse than when I had last seen him.

"How're you feeling?" I sat next to him.

"Oh, yeah, hello there," he said, smiling at me with innocent eyes.

"How are you feeling?"

"Oh, I'm good," he said.

"That's good." I tried a smile. He looked up at me, any trace of him left in a hollow shell.

"Yeah, and what's your name?"

Tears (that I absolutely abhorred) sprung to my eyes. I forced a smile across my lips.

"Oh, it's time for your medicine."

I put the pills and water on his bedside table. He needed help taking them, so I helped him. I picked up his favorite stuffed dog from the dresser and stuck it in my bag. I wanted to remember the reason I even started to hate the Games.

Then I wiped my eyes furiously, grabbed my bag with all materials inside it, and ran, never looking back.

~.~.

Glitch

I was 12 and at the fires with Tom. The night stars were bright and painted the sky. The moon was a thin crescent. The wind was warm, and smoke from the fires offered a somewhat homely smell.

I was sitting with Sheila and Tom, as was the usual. We talked about lively things and ate what little food we had. It wasn't too bad, those times. That was back when they were somewhat tolerable.

Anyways, everything went quiet and all eyes went to the center fire, where Mr. Morrison was talking to someone.

"A newcomer," Tom said, inching closer. "C'mon, let's see who it is." He moved closer. I followed, Sheila bringing up the rear.

When I saw his face, I tripped and fell over my own feet in shock. His blond hair was everywhere, gray-green eyes bloodshot, his face set in rage, one eye black and swelling already. Rasputin, my oldest cousin that Fuj threatened way back when I was 9. He looked terrible.

Tom tensed. "Damn. I hate that guy!" he said. It was one thing we could agree on. Apparently he was accepted, because Mr. Morrison called for Tom to invite Ras to our fire and to give him some food.

Talk about awkward. It was the most uncomfortable I had ever felt in my life, not to mention the most helpless. Surrounded that people that had it out for me. We sat in silence, Tom occasionally whispering things to Sheila and Sheila laughing in a very condescending manor. Ras kept his eyes on the ground and didn't eat much (not that there was much for him to eat).

When they called fires out, Tom and Sheila were quickly gone. I stomped out the embers and offered to take him to an empty tent. There was one right next to my parents', you see, of some sick lady that recently passed. We don't exactly tell the newcomers stuff like this, but they'll learn. I wonder who inhabited our tent before we were there.

We walked in silence. I wondered what happened to my other cousins and aunt…

"Reagen's pregnant," he said quietly. "And I got kicked out and she dumped me."

"Oh."

"Yeah," he laughed bitterly, "Another-" he stopped himself. I thought it smart of him to do so.

"I'm sorry."

"My trained assassin will still kill you." I meant it more as a joke now.

"I haven't seen much of her around," he said. He tried to smile. I knew it must've been hard for him to do it.

"…Here's your tent." He gave me a curt nod. "Yeah. Thanks." He quickly went in. I went back to my parents' tent. I knew I'd be abused there, but I wasn't so keen on walking back to Tom's in the dark.

~.~.

We have one tiny TV between the all of us in the Smog, and I never really like to watch it. I don't like watching the television, it's all monitored by the Capitol and is usually pointless. The slums people usually agree. Nobody watches the TV unless it's raining out and we don't want to stand out by the Square and watch the Games on the big screen.

I wake up next in Tom's hut and groan, rolling out of bed and getting dressed. I pull on glasses and run fingers through my hair before going out to the fires.

Ras greets me with a hand on my shoulder. His eyes have dark circles under them. He has a bite mark on his arm. I stop short, trying not to stare.

"Ras…"

"Don't."

"What happened?!"

"I said don't! Don't don't don't!" He looked away and I just dropped the subject. I knew how he felt.

We walk out toward the fires for breakfast, and that's when I notice everyone crowded around the TV. Naturally, I'm pretty confused. I walk over there to see what's going on that everyone's so hyped up about.

"What's going on?" I ask, in a daze. Sheila takes my hand and guides me to the front, shooting a contemptuous glance at Ras behind me. "Only the most interesting court case of the year."

I blink tiredly. Why would the Capitol be showing us a court case?

"Huh?"

"They're calling it the Arachnid Trials," Tom says cheerily, already sitting in the front and waiting. He glances back at Ras, his smile widening (what a wicked, evil person he is) before he turns to me. "This girl's getting creamed out there."

Oh, of course. They'll show us a court trial where the Capitol overpowers a criminal. Just to scare the shit out of everyone in the Districts, so they can get us to do what they want us to do: quietly obey.

I don't want to watch, but glance at the screen anyways, and my heart practically stops in my chest.

Fujita. She's grown, she looks a lot older, the scars are more set, her mouth is more crooked, and she looks to be made up for the trial. The "judge" is just listing off crimes and she tries to argue but is promptly cut off by the "lawyers" surrounding her. The Capitol's "justice" system is very quiet in the school curriculums, probably because there's no justice in it whatsoever. This is one of few glances we get into their government, and it's easy to see that most of it is staged.

Once the "judge" is done, the "lawyer" on Fujita's side clears his throat. "The criminal in question pleads guilty to all of the previous charges listed-"

"But the defendant doesn't regret any of it for even one fucking second, do you hear me!?" Fujita interjects, her voice just as loud and assertive as ever. "The defendant is justified in her struggle! And I wouldn't take a single one of those things on that list back, even if I had the chance to!" Guards take her by the arms. Tom laughs.

While they wrestle with a screaming Fujita in the background, the "judge" announces her sentence.

"Fujita Halifex has been found guilty of all crimes and is hereby sentenced to five years of service as an Avox and then to death by the electric chair." He looks at the camera. "And anyone that was and is involved with her will suffer a fate quite similar to hers."

My heart beats faster. I'm going to panic. I quickly shove my way past the crowds and run. I don't know where I'm going to, but I run. I hear footsteps behind me and look up to see Ras there, his features set in a frown.

I'll bet he's happy now, I think bitterly. "Go away," I say, voice cracking with tears.

I'm so damn used to crying now I've become numb to it.

"I'm sorry," he says.

"Go away!" I don't want to talk to anyone. No wonder the case was on TV. They're warning people that have communicated with X to beware.

I don't know if they know about the connection we had when I was just a kid, but something in me has the worst feeling.

I sit and cry through the rest of the morning and into the afternoon. The only kind of idol I ever had, and just like that they're completely humiliated and gone. I sit and thing and cry on and off until late afternoon.

I don't want to go into the Games. I'm taking so much tesserae that I'm sure I'm going to be picked. My only hope left is for someone to volunteer to take my place, someone more able-bodied than I am.

I wipe my eyes and try to dry my tear-stained cheeks as best as I can.

Then, I put on my brave face and walk slowly to Tom's tent.