Okay, so, this is one of the rare occasions where I'd advise you to read the author's note at the end of the chapter before you read the chapter. There's a lot I'm saying which I want you to bear in mind :)

Day Fifteen, Afternoon

Arran Taron, District 12, 16

"Hey, did you hear about the Games ending?"

"Yeah, big woop," I said, trudging through the forest.

Branches cracked under my weight, making me worry that I'd give off any noise. When you were a hunter, you didn't want to scare off prey. Considering I'd been walking for a couple of hours, I surmised that we were at least ten miles away from District Twelve. It was very rare you'd come across prey so close to the District's borders, but now we were a reasonable distance away the chances of coming close to unsuspecting creatures grew.

"Who did you want to survive?" My fellow hunter, Basil, asked. He held a crossbow in his hand and glanced briefly at a snare he had left, which didn't seem to have snagged anything. I paused, leaning against an old tree and drinking water from my bottle as he refined it.

"Whoever lives deserves to survive, I guess," I shrugged.

In District Twelve it was pretty common to have an anti-Career mentality. I wouldn't say that I thought people with that mentality were stupid, because I got it. Careers were mean and evil, and I knew from experience that nobody liked anyone who was mean and evil. But Panem wasn't an easy world, even for the upper Districts. The Games offered money, and they had the skills. Was it really immoral if people would die in that arena regardless of whether the Careers existed or not? When I thought about it, the Careers probably made the Games a lot cleaner or quicker.

I took another lengthy swig of water, deciding not to think about the Games. That was way too much thought for today. I mean, I knew the Games' most famous moments, and the famous tributes - that was unavoidable. But I didn't watch them. It just struck me as a big Capitolian parade to distract us from all their other brutal methods, many happening behind closed doors.

I should know. I worked for them.

Basil set up another snare, and tried to camouflage a bear trap he had set down with sticks and leaves so that it blended into the forest's landscape. After a quick glance at me, and then a nod, we both went trudging along the forest again. I wasn't sure, but I think I could see some tracks left behind. I trudged alongside the trail that would inevitably lead me to a living being.

"Where's Natalia? Did she pass down the opportunity to hunt?" Basil asked, his grey eyes attentive. He was way better at small talk than I was.

"End of the Games, she's celebrating," I told him. We eventually reached the end of the road; there was a crag, and a few meters below the forest continued. I jumped down it, glancing up and watching Basil mimic me. When he landed, I continued talking, holding my heavy crossbow tentatively just in case something tried to run away. I could shoot fast, so I had nothing to fear. "She told me she's doing the nightshift all alone. Definitely not something I want to do."

"Why?"

"We all know monsters and demons lurk in the forest at night," I smirked at him, teasing.

"Sounds like you'd make good friends with them."

"Oh, haha," I rolled my eyes but couldn't help feeling amused. "We're all monsters here, Basil."

I froze when I saw something dart from one tree, desperately trying to cover themselves behind another. Basil was, unusually, faster to respond than I was, and his crossbow bolt sank into the tough bark of the tree that the fleeing teenager had used for cover. The kid screamed out an unrecognisable name and tried to rush through the forest to flee. I charged after him, struggling slightly to run and aim at the same time.

But I'd been doing this for a year. I'd gotten good at hunting. Soon a bolt flew from my crossbow and buried itself nicely in the boy's leg, leading to him screaming as he toppled over and rolled across the forest floor, stunning him like I had expected it to.

Like a pack of hounds, soon Basil and I descended on the boy. I grabbed him by his shirt collar and pushed him against another tree.

"Look what we have here," I grinned. "Now what is a little kid like you doing in a dangerous place like this?"

He opened his mouth to answer, but only screamed in pain as there was a sharp arrow that protruded from one side of his leg out of the other. I knew exactly what he was doing; he was a refugee. Judging by the fact he looked like he'd never seen the light of day, it seemed like he was from Three or Five. Since the war, a lot of people fled the Capitol for fear of being bombed by District Thirteen. Most of them would try and make it to the coast, where they would try and fail to flee to Romantia. Even after the war had ceased people were inspired to flee, hearing tales of Romantia's supposed free society.

But there was a problem with that: they didn't have a permit to leave their District borders, not like I did. Therefore their punishment was death. A lot of people hunted in the forests for food, and Peacekeepers turned a blind eye to it usually, until they realised how useful hunters like me were. After a brief arrest they offered me a job that paid once people left in bunches to find a paradise that didn't exist. All I had to do was kill them.

At first it bothered me. Once upon a time I hated the Capitol; they were responsible for my father's death, a death I was still grieving for. They were bastards. But I'd grown to kind of enjoy my job. In my household, I'd never felt like I had any power. But here I had the freedom to leave the District and was even allowed to be the judge, jury and executioner. I knew it was sick, but I enjoyed it. The fact it also put food on the table also helped.

If they didn't want to die, they shouldn't have broken the law.

"Please, just... I lost my mother," the boy sobbed. He probably knew we hunters existed; the scheme the Peacekeepers had set up was eventually Capitolian approved, and had apparently spread to a handful of other Districts. We were even given some Capitolian technology, like their guns or bombs. I slipped my hand into my pocket, removing a gun and pressing it right against the boy's head.

"We'll tell her you were looking for her," I promised, before pressing the trigger.

The shot was so loud it made birds flee from the trees. I let go of the boy and he immediately slumped to the ground, a large chunk of his forehead blasted off and a vacant expression of terror still looming in his eyes. I looked down at the corpse for a brief second before feeling a milisecond of momentary disgust. As if I had just thrown out the rubbish, I turned away and started walking.

"What the fuck Arran, I know you like using the Capitol's fancy weapons, but you could've alerted every other refugee in the proximity!" Basil exclaimed behind me as I strode through the forest.

"Let them run. I'll catch them."

"You know that was stupid."

I paused, as if I wanted to say something, but continued walking. I used to hate this job. I used to hold back tears every time I would kill a refugee. At the beginning of the scheme me and a bunch of others had bombs strapped to them to ensure that we didn't flee, but as killing became part of the job I became desensitised and had even gained the trust of the Peacekeepers.

However, there was still a part of me inside that didn't want to do it. I didn't care for the Capitol's rules - that was why I was in this position in the first place. I also felt bad for anyone who felt their situation was so bad they had to run away. A crossbow bolt would've been painful, it was sharp and it didn't go through the brain as quick as a bullet did. To humanely kill someone felt like an oxymoron, but it was the best thing I could do.

Not that it would change how people viewed me. In school rumours of what I done were whispered, leading to me becoming a black sheep. Even my family looked at me with some level of disgust despite the fact it was the blood I spilt that fed them. But I couldn't care. Life wasn't to be enjoyed in Panem - enjoyment was something that only existed for Capitolians. The only thing I could gain from life was to live it, and I had to do this to survive. So that was that. I sucked in some air, glared at Basil, and then walked through the forest in pursuit for more prey.

Jordyn Rossi, District 1, 17

The gym's tv, which nestled on a shelf far above my head, still seemed to be fixated on the Hunger Games. I watched with some level of interest as a professional looking woman, her mousy hair tied into a bun, stood in front of a black background. Serious eyes stared into the camera as pictures of a blonde haired, sweet looking boy swirled around the screen.

"Pullox Shimmers had it all: a family that loved him, considerable wealth to support him, and good grades," she stepped forwards and addressed the audience generically: "He has been described by teachers as bright, polite and hardworking. Classmates and his contemporaries in the Career Academy at which he trained have consistently described him as kind and considerate; bar the fact he had always been a lone wolf who had strayed from making friends, were there signs that this boy would turn into the Games' biggest monster? In this documentary we have exclusive interviews with his family and with others who knew him, exploring Pullox's childhood," shots of a blue eyed, smiling baby accompanied pictures of a ten year old Pullox sitting at the side of a pool with his baby sister, and then a graduation photo. "We ask: what made Pullox Shimmers the manipulative mastermind the nation knows him as?"

"They're already milking the Games for every penny it's worth," I mumbled, still glancing at the screen as a crying mother began to talk about what a sweet baby boy her twisted little Career son was.

"Yeah, they always make those kind of documentaries," Clay grumbled behind me, cracking his knuckles. "But enough about those Careers. Those Careers all lost, that academy is going downhill," he smirked. "But you will make my academy the hottest thing in town."

My history had always been pretty complicated. I intended to join the military from a young age, wanting to follow in my Aunt's footsteps. As a Peacekeeper, I always admired the way she had protected District Two from imaginary foes in the South and North. Despite learning that these were mere tribesmen who posed no threat to Panem, becoming a Peacekeeper was something I always aimed to be. Despite passing their flimsy tests, I was rejected purely on the basis of my height.

I wasn't academic, so I assumed I was doomed to live off menial jobs. But later things changed and my ambition to enter the Games grew and grew until I decided it was how I wanted to make my living: go in, fight, kill a few kids, survive, live comfortably for the rest of my life. It seemed too good to be true, and other than the whole dying thing I knew it was something I could do. So I decided to enter Career training; I'd trained before, it was free and compulsory in District One up until age fourteen. But I didn't have the money to continue, and post fifteen training explored the important stuff in Career training, such as survival and killing.

I knew District Two offered financial support for the poor who wanted to become Careers, but that didn't exist in District One. Careers were very often a small, elitist group within the District, and I knew I wouldn't have access to them. That's where Clay came into the equation. One fateful day I noticed a flyer that had been nailed to a lamppost, advertising Clay's services. He was setting up his own training academy, apparently scorned somehow by the current one when he was younger.

Still, he seemed like an ideal candidate to train me; he was a respected potential Career when younger, and after that he had joined the military. And, most importantly, his training was a lot cheaper than the Academy's.

"Now, back to training," he threw a sweat towel at me and I used it to wipe any lingering sweat from my forehead. "This is just the simple one to test your reflexes. I punch left and right, you block. Eventually I'll stop indicating, then you use instinct."

I rolled my eyes. That was basic stuff that I felt I'd learned like five years ago.

"Left," Clay pounced forwards, using the bulk of his six foot stature to support his punches. One fist went hurling towards me and I quickly blocked it with my forearm, reacting to each of his moves in a complimentary fashion, barely needing to listen to his indications. Eventually he didn't talk, he just punched - and punched harder. But despite my small stature I had some strength on my side, jaw clenching as the force of his punches made my body skid backwards slightly despite successfully blocking him with my palm or forearm.

The beat seemed to go on for at least fifteen minutes: left, right, right, right, left, left, right, left. The repeated sound of skin meeting skin was heard as I continued blocking him and he persistently tried to strike me. Eventually, my breaths grew more ragged and sweat was beginning to form a light sheen around my skin. When I saw Clay's muscles in his left hand twitch, I immediately knew he had tried to curveball me with a fake hit. I held back a smirk as I successfully grabbed his fist in mid-air, using my strength to twist his muscular arm backwards.

Clay hissed in pain, his pride momentarily wounded.

"You thought that old trick would work?" I laughed.

"Just making sure you're prepared," he gritted his teeth as I still clutched onto his twisted arm.

I barely had time to react when his leg was forced forwards into my stomach, the sheer power of the kick enough to send me back onto the floor. I choked on my own air for a second, spluttering as a stunning pain spread through my stomach and began to hurt my spine. Eventually, when I could talk, I leaned up and glared at a victorious looking elder.

"That's not fair," I grumbled, groaning as I stood up. "You said punches."

"The Hunger Games don't have rules," Clay shrugged. "You have to be prepared for anything."

"Yeah yeah," I rolled my eyes.

"I'm telling you Jordyn, if you don't win this thing," Clay didn't even continue his sentence as he made his way over to his scruffy desk, removing a flask of Panem knows what and taking a swig from it. He sighed after swallowing, and continued rambling. "Because you don't want to die, and I don't want my academy to look shitty. I want it to churn out some Victors, show those snobby bunch of pricks how to really make a killer of a girl, y'know?" I nodded.

"But it's more important than that," I said tentatively, leaning against a sword rack. "Right? I mean, when I saw those advertisements in town last year I thought this place would be full of poorer kids with ambitions of winning the Games. I'm still your only student..." I didn't know where I was getting at. Whatever - even if he was just using me for fame and money, I still benefitted from it. I shrugged. "I don't know what I'm talking about, I just want you to be my trainer, not my agent."

"Just listen to what I say, and you'll win," he smiled. "That prize fund you'll get? That'll be a lot of money. I mean, you still owe me debt, and that prize fund will pay nicely, but you'll still have plenty money left." I bit my bottom lip slightly and just shrugged, going along with whatever he had to say. "Now come on, lets see you use that Urumi thing you like. The weapon of a real Victor."

Day Fifteen, Night

Tamal Arbor, District 7, 14

When the Games were over, you could really feel it in the air. Something changed. While Panem was never a truly happy culture, with all the poverty, war and stuff, I felt a peace fill District Seven. It was all over. We wouldn't have to worry for another good few months, then another two kids would be snatched away and sent to die.

That said, I guess the Games in District Seven had ended the moment Hadley died. I barely knew Hadley, as he was a recluse, but my boyfriend knew and liked the guy. It was kind of sad that he seemed so nice and ended up with such a horrible fate. I tried to push the negative thoughts aside, returning back to the near finished painting. In front of me on a blank canvas was a tiger, its mouth opened to show off its fierce teeth as it pounced at an unseen assailant. I had never really been confident in my painting skills, but I believed this painting to be an exception. It almost looked real.

And to think I'd painted it in a few hours.

I smiled, using my brush to delicately fill in the flecks that eventually accumulated into the tiger's black stripes. My painting was almost marred when I heard something tap against my window, the paintbrush jolting while I unconsciously jumped. My head turned carefully towards the window, which showed nothing but the sky and the stars outside.

I was definitely creeped out. It didn't help that our house was stranded in the middle of nowhere by a big, creepy forest too. I stood up, carefully making my way towards the window and trying to rationalise what the source of the noise could have been: maybe a poor bird flew into the window, or the wind had blown a rock into it or something. Holding my breath, I grabbed onto the window and pushed it upwards, leaning my head out of it slightly and watching out my empty front garden and the vacant road that led into the woods.

Nothing moved, bar my untameable hair which was made more messy by the usually fierce breeze that dominated the night. I was about to close the window and shut out the evening when something screamed, grabbing onto my face.

I cried out in shock, jumping backwards while my eyes were fixed on my boyfriend. Graham's features were twisted into a laugh as he clung onto the windowsill, dangling from it.

"Graham-"

"You should've seen your face."

I folded my arms, unimpressed. "If you wanted to romance me that was definitely not the way to do it, now get into my room before wind blows out all of my candles," I looked at the colourful display of candles that lined up the perimeter of my room, providing it with a warm lighting that made it feel homely. Graham clumsily slipped into the room, still chuckling slightly. "Hurry, close the window, it's freezing outside!"

Still irritated, I hurried over to the window, grabbed it and slammed it closed.

"Oh come on, that was funny, no?" Graham chuckled, standing up and brushing his tatty trousers.

"You could've gotten yourself killed! Climbing in through my window, dangling from the windowsill like that?" I shook my head and grabbed the canvas, complete with the tiger drawing. I would stash it away somewhere; I trusted Graham with anything and everything, but I was definitely shy about my work. I awkwardly struggled to carry the large frame, opening my somewhat empty wardrobe and deciding that it would be a suitable hiding place. "You could just do the normal thing and knock."

"Sorry, guess I'm still programmed to sneak into your place," Graham smirked. He meant it as a joke, but it still triggered bad memories. "You're so clumsy and awkward and cute, especially when you're scared. Has anyone told you that?"

I blushed slightly. "Well... I guess it was funny, and it was nice to be reminded of old times' sake."

Graham and I had been together for about two years ago. A lot had changed in my life since we had met, except him. He was something constant, like a diamond that could withstand any element or disaster that Shiva could send towards it. I'd been raised in a family that had clung onto Hinduism, a minority religion. I liked Hinduism, and still paid my respects to the gods and many of the customs. But my family didn't follow Hinduism's teachings to love; they were filled with resentment, and didn't question any tradition. They still believed in things such as an arranged marriage.

And their view of homosexuality was something else. They believed that people like me were the scourge of the earth. I once believed it too, until I met Graham and puberty hit. Once I felt feelings for him, I tried to deny them for a long time. But I loved Graham - or the closest thing to love someone my age could experience. I knew I couldn't deny who I was, or deny who I loved. When I came out... It went badly.

Graham's family were poor and couldn't accommodate me, so I worked in the lumber mill for a fee and lived with my kindly neighbours. Eventually, we grew close and they felt like the family I never had. I still felt culturally disconnected from them on some level, but that didn't stop the fact that we cared for each other and accepted each other. I missed my family, admittedly, despite the fact they wanted little to do with me, but I was relatively happy. The wounds had healed into scars.

"So, what is in your closet?" Graham said, moving towards it before pausing. "Wait, there's a joke to be made out of that, right?"

"I'm not in the closet," I said.

"Yeah, you don't have to remind me," Graham smiled at the tiger. "So what is that?"

"A tiger."

"Huh? Never seen one."

"They're not in District Eight, silly," I laughed. "They're in places like... I don't know, Krisana. I think they'd be extinct if we didn't have the ability to replicate and modify genes," I sighed sadly. "I swear they were in a Hunger Games arena."

"Hell if I know, I'm not watching that stuff. Know who won?"

"I've been avoiding it too," I admitted, moving to my large bed and sitting on the edge of it. Graham followed me, his hand awkwardly making its way to mine. He squeezed my hand. Because I was so awkward, despite being together for so long we'd only really held hands or kissed. In school, I knew kids were reaching the age where they were starting to explore a little beyond that. And even though I faced temptations, I wasn't sure if I was ready. Maybe I would even wait until marriage or something. "I guess I do want to see who survived..."

There was an awkward pause and Graham smiled.

"I guess all we have to do is wait three more years."

"Huh?"

"Three more years and we won't have to worry about our one in a million chance of dying," he said, pecking me slightly and leaving a red blush in his wake. "That said, there's always the chance that we can get some disease... Or die in a work accident... Maybe there'll be an earthquake or a war or something fun too. Who knows, it's Panem, there are endless ways to die."

I couldn't help but laugh. Only Graham could make the depressing political climate seem funny. "Okay, Mr. Optimist, okay."

Tesni Rosette, District 9, 17

My family's large ballroom was seldom occupied, and was always accompanied with a film of dust despite the vastness of it. But considering the annual end of the Hunger Games celebrations were now taking place, it was my responsibility to help our Avoxes and staff help clean it. I looked around at the tiled floor and the sweeping staircases, slightly unnerved after seeing what had happened in the ballrooms in this year's arena. Our ballroom looked very different, and was certainly more modern and modest, but I couldn't help but seeing blood, broken chandeliers and dead girls' bodies everywhere I looked.

I tried to forget about it, skirting aside an Avox who scrubbed the floor. I proceeded to polish a small vase, scrubbing it harshly until it squeaked and I could see the reflection of my face in it.

"We've got this sorted, don't worry," a cleaner addressed me, slipping latex gloves on and giving me a smile. "Why don't you watch television or something?"

"Oh..." My voice was quiet, as my mother had always instructed. "I... Well... Okay," I smiled. The prospect of free time seemed quite nice.

After passing two lush corridors, I peered into my large living room to ensure it was empty. When I realised it was, I scurried to the spongelike couches and leapt into them. Despite the fact my family had been so rich, I never really got to enjoy being rich. Often, I felt like I was one of the servants. Maybe they saw me as one of them - maybe that was why the staff were nice to me.

When I turned the television I was expecting to watch a recap of the Hunger Games' finale - instead I was disappointed when the television projected some kind of press conference. Sitting next to some old businessmen, a young girl around my age contrasted so differently. There was something about her that intrigued me, it was as if I had seen her before; it wasn't her age, or the fact she was dressed so smart. Maybe it was the shoulder length red hair. I paused and it took me a second to realise she was the daughter of one of the old Victors who had won like thirty years ago.

He died in the latest Quarter Quell. I relaxed slightly, wondering what she was doing on television. The families of the old Victors often lived reclusive lives, afterall. She clutched a book in her hands, smiling as she was asked questions by members of some kind of audience.

"So, Roxanne Maxwell, will you be making appearances in the Capitol to promote your book?"

"Unfortunately, the Capitol didn't give me a permit to leave the District," she explained. "So I won't be going there to promote my book, but I have a lot of brilliant contacts who will ensure that my book will be promoted and sold within the Capitol." She shrugged. "I think I prefer it here in District Six, anyway."

She seemed to loud and confident. She reminded me of the person I used to be, I realised. I hugged my knees to my chest, eyes glued to the screen with some kind of fascination.

"So, what's the book about?"

"Well, it's semi-biographical," she paused. "My father dying was... hard on me. Especially being so young. His wealth meant I could support myself, but they were a lonely few years," she looked away from the camera, as if trying to hide some kind of emotion. I could imagine how hard losing parents' was. Even if my parents weren't the nicest, I still loved them a lot. "After picking myself up, I made this story to ensure he would never be forgotten. An agent thought that it would be a bestseller, so I wrote it and published it - she brandished the book to show it off to the camera. "And here it is - A Hero Named Roger. It's set during a fictionalised Hunger Games, and is set to be released soon."

I couldn't help but feel fascinated. I'd never heard of stories set during the Hunger Games before, which was odd considering how big they were and how ingrained they were into our culture. And yet I couldn't help but feel that fictionalised Hunger Games were an inevitability, albeit a very delayed one. This would probably inspire a new genre; I could imagine the comics, tv series and movies that would be coming out.

"Will there be a sequel?"

"Depends on the success," she scratched her head slightly. "I mean, maybe."

"And what have you thought of these Games?" The eager reporter pressed on, blatantly annoying her. There seemed to be a few reporters at the conference, none able to wheedle in a question.

"They've been pretty good. I mean, the Victor reminds me of my father in the way-"

The television immediately went black. I jumped, slightly terrified. I could feel my mothers' presence fill the air like a frost. My head craned slowly to face her, sweeping over her tall figure and her scowling features. I smiled at her, though she refused to return it. I hated it when my mother shouted, but the disappointed silence somehow hurt me even more.

"What did I instruct you to do before the party?"

"The servants were c-cleaning," I stood up, curtseying. "They told me to watch t-tele-"

"Do I care what the servants say?" My mother silenced me immediately. I looked at the floor so she wouldn't see the welling tears. "The reason they are servants is because they take orders, not give them. And as my daughter, your responsibility is to take orders too," she hurried over to me and looked me right in the eyes. "You would come to understand me, if you ever stop being useless with men and actually have children," she said to me.

I nodded, which angered my mother even more. She grabbed me by my sides and shook me violently.

"Answer me when I address you!"

"I'm sorry, okay?" I said, too loud for my mother's liking as I was on the verge of crying. She released me and I corrected myself: "I'm sorry, mother."

"Now look at what you've done," she shook her head slightly. "You made me do that to you, and now your dress is all ruined and creased," she tried to smooth invisible creases over while I stayed perfectly still, not daring to move or speak. My family had always been traditional and had always expected me to be silent, but in the past six or seven years my mothers' once harmless belief had become an oppressive obsession. If my voice was louder than a whisper, punishment would follow. "You're lucky your father would disapprove of me hitting you, because sometimes I really do want to smack you for being such an incompetent little girl," she mumbled, more to herself. She walked out, talking to herself: "If we weren't trying to find you a husband I would just avoid the embarrassment and shut you away..."

She slammed the door behind her so hard it trembled. There was silence, and then I heard my mother sobbing and screaming loudly. I kept my hands clasped together, face resolute before I faced the wall and began crying myself. I wanted to scream out all of my frustration, but I couldn't risk having my mother hear me. My cries were in themselves desperate whispers that barely squeaked from my lips.

After using the back of my hands to sweep the tears from my eyes and face, I decided to be stoic. I couldn't embarrass my family at the party - being loud was one thing but to cry and show the guests that I was the family's weak link? No...

But to them I was the family's weak link. My perfect brothers had always obeyed my family. When I was younger, I was outspoken and unfeminine. My mother had always been disappointed in me but everything was changed six years ago. My cousin died, leading my father's brother to leave the business which they dominated together. There was a period of financial difficulty which we recovered from physically, but didn't recover from emotionally.

My father became distant, saddened by the loss of his niece and the fact his brother who he was once so close to was emotionally dead. This emotional distance affected my mother in an unexpected chain reaction. She became cold and cruel to everyone: the servants, people on the street, even her own children. My brothers thankfully left and got their own housing, working within my father's business to make a decent living. That wasn't an option for me; even if I wasn't a woman, even if I was an heir to the business, I was too young to leave home. So I had to put up with my mother's antics.

She never hit me, but her cruelty and manipulation felt like a punch to the stomach and heart every single day. I myself changed; the confident, popular girl everyone knew was now a scared girl who could barely raise her voice beyond a whisper. I still had a few friends, but they couldn't do anything for me. So I spent my days in this large house - this prison - hoping that I could one day escape.

Day Sixteen, Morning

Syncis Allomoi, District 3, 15

As soon as the moon's rays were replaced by the sun's, I knew my mother would come in to check on me. Maybe she even expected me to lie in bed, asleep. She must have been so wrong when she saw my huddled into the corner of the room, tears streaming down my face while I used my sleeves to desperately hide the wounds on my wrists. Maybe my mother had magical powers like I did, because she immediately rushed over and grabbed me. Worry was etched all over her face as she dragged my arms forwards, gasping at the somewhat deep gashes that had been drawn down them.

"Oh my Panem, Syncis, what have you done to yourself?" She tried to keep calm: "Cables! Syncis has hurt himself again!"

"No, no," I protested, wincing at the pain as my dad quickly rushed through the doorway. "I didn't hurt myself! I promise!" I was telling the truth. As soon as my mother let go of my hands I defensively covered them with my sleeves, somehow shrinking into the corner more and more, hoping that I'd shrink away from my parents. They didn't understand - and even worse, they thought I was lying. "My friends did this to me, mum. I promise."

"What friends?"

"Fuse, and Mara, and..." I paused. "Please believe me, mum, dad," I glanced at them both desperately. "I would never do this!"

"He needs to see his doctor again," my father said sadly. "Are his cuts okay?"

"When did you - your friends - do this?" My mother asked.

I asked my friends in my head. The reason everyone thought I was insane was because my friends were born in my head - at least, I felt they were. They'd been there forever. I theorised that my mother and father had children who died and that their spirits were born in my head. If my sister, Connec, was dead she'd be in my head too. Sometimes they would tell me do certain things - I often protested, but if I didn't they would take control and would make me do them. I wasn't a suicidal person. Life had been hard recently, with all the doctors and my unsympathetic parents, but I did enjoy life.

Last night.

"They did it last night," I repeated.

Ask why they destroyed me.

"Mara asked why you killed her," I said with a shaky voice.

"His dosage was upped a month ago, Cable," my mother said shakily. "W-What if he needs a more expensive dosage? We're working overtime as it is just to give him what he needs and it's just not working."

Oh no. I considered pretending my friends didn't exist, but they'd see through my lies and would take me to the evil doctor again. When my friends had first appeared, they immediately took me to this evil man who said something about schizophrenia. I knew schizophrenia existed - I'd heard it in school before. It was for people who heard voices, or had some kind of hallucinations. But I knew that this was real and that nobody understood me.

Mara, Fuse and all the others had even proven to me that they were real. They made promises that they had fulfilled, just to prove they were real, but they made it clear I was gifted and that nobody else had my gift. They even told me about the evil doctor, who wasn't a doctor at all. He was a demon who had been sent to earth to make everybody think I was crazy. He was jealous of my gift, and he knew it could be used to defeat him.

If you slit his throat, it'd make him go away forever, he'll go back to the realm from which he came. Just one swipe and he's gone.

"No, no," I retorted. "I'm a good person, I'm a hero, I can't do that, and they check me for knives before I go to the hospital anyway," my parents looked at me with horror. My dad grabbed me and picked me up easily, as I was a lot smaller than him. I kicked and scratched, desperately trying to escape, but to no avail. I screamed so loudly I probably woke my sister up. "Mum, mum, stop him. Please don't take me!" My terrified screams grew so loud that I think I could taste blood in my throat. "The doctor is a demon, mum. He might try to kill me, please!"

My mother looked at me with horror in her eyes. Maybe a part of her believed me - she had to, right? But it didn't matter, because everybody else thought I was crazy. When my father struggled to carry me down the stairs I defeatedly went limp in his arms, ignoring all the advice from my friends. If the whole world was against me, what was the point of fighting?

Perseverance Bright, District 7, 15

I was finally talking to my crush.

Not that I had a lack of confidence or anything. I'd never really been inhibited by other people; shyness wasn't something I'd ever felt in my life. But I had been inhibited by social expectations My parents were part of a tight knit religious community - which wasn't something I disapproved of. I loved our gods. I loved Aesim. But everybody was always so secretive. I was discouraged from befriending people outside of our little community, just in case I mentioned Aesim.

I wasn't quite sure why; other religions had been practiced in Panem. I sat next to a Muslim girl in class, and the Old God worshippers in the factory I worked in over summer all met up at lunch for prayer meetings. But when this guy who I'd crushed on finally approached me on my way home from a sermon, I couldn't help but talk back. It would be rude not to, right?

My parents' probably wouldn't see it that way. He was the Peacekeepers' son, which meant he was probably very much connected to District Seven's government. But still, the fact he was related to a Peacekeeper was in itself very attractive to me. Aesim had always emphasised the might of the warrior, and the honour behind it all. And Peacekeepers keep us safe, right?

"You should hang out with everyone a little more," he said with that adorable smile.

"Oh..." I felt stupid for blushing. "I should, shouldn't I? So, what's it like having a dad who is a Peacekeeper?" He glanced at me. "Do you want to be a Peacekeeper? Do you work out?" My mind was screaming for him to say yes.

"I mean, I guess I should work out more, I'm in track team for school," he smiled. "I guess I should be a little more muscular if I want to be Peacekeeper, right?" To me, he was perfect. "But yeah, I guess it would be pretty cool to follow in my dad's footsteps. I see all the brave work he does everyday, watching over our District. This year he even recruited District Seven fighters to seize District Thirteen. Kind of awesome, right?"

He had no idea. I thought my community were cool people, and my family and closest friends were all a part of it, but I was suddenly imagining a world of fighters and action. "Oh, yeah. You have no idea."

"So what about you? You've never told me much about yourself?"

My heart stopped, though I was still walking alongside him. I didn't know how closed I wanted to be. I could be vague, tell him I had a cool family and we had a lot of family friends. But I wanted to appear interesting to him. I didn't even know why there was this big urge to impress inside me. I mean, I didn't plan on dating him. If I dated anyone who wasn't in our little community I knew my parents would be so upset.

But when did flirting a little harm anyone? The voice of my High Priestess, Sigrun, was repeatedly telling me that I was being a fool. But I felt almost as if I lost control of my own senses, shrugging.

"Well, my family are all part of this... Coven," it wasn't like we were witches or anything, but I glamourised the reality. "We meet up with people every week. We call each other Aesists, I dunno, it's kind of cool I guess if you want to know more." I looked into his blue eyes, as if challenging him to demand more from me. He bit his bottom lip and didn't say anything for a while, leaving me to wonder if I'd made it sound interesting enough. Eventually we left a patch of forest and had entered the town my family lived in, small log cabins passing alongside us as we followed the road.

"So what do you guys believe in?"

"We believe in a bunch of gods," I said quickly. "It's not like the new gods - we know them. There's lots: Thor, Loki, Freyja. They all control different things, but they were all created and adhere to the ultimate god," I watched for his expression as he began nodding along to my words. I felt so confident now I was reeling him in, so I ignored common sense and continued: "He's a little like the Old God, but not quite, he's a different kind of god to the other gods. And we adhere to his teaching. There's nine virtues you must follow, really. Perseverance is one of them, like my name."

"Oh so you're named after it?"

"Yeah, basically," I smiled. "My grandma says I need to work on my perseverance."

"Do you do magic?"

"I do rituals... Like, you know, sometimes we burn incense for luck and stuff."

"Oh wow, can I check it out one day?"

I either had to lie or let him down. And truth was one of the noble virtues... But could I let him down? "Maybe," I smiled. "We could maybe make a sacrifice and I'll think of you. I'll give you any blessing you want! Honour, luck, love..." I blushed a little. "Fertility, but I guess you won't be needing that."

"Never know..."

"Percy!"

Both of us jumped at the feminine voice that came out of one of the cabins. It was the most inconvenient time to be outside one of the Aesists' houses. It was Acadia of all people too. Her innocent, effeminate face was contorted with shock as she rushed down log stairs towards me and glanced at Mr. Right, and then at me as if it had been the end of the world.

... What had she overheard, exactly?

"I'm sorry, you're going to have to go," she said to the boy before grabbing my hand. I was way stronger than she was, but if I dared throw myself out of her grip or hurt her I'd be shunned by the whole community. Acadia wasn't usually angry - she was a follower, and not a leader, and she was very humble. Her dedication to Aesim meant she was beloved by all. I watched as the Peacekeepers' boy merely became a dot in the distance who watched after us perplexedly as Acadia led me down the familiar path to my own home.

Oh no. This was going to go to my parents. I felt really bad inside, but kept resolute to protect my honour as much as possible in such a dishonourable position. To try and distract myself, I kept my eyes glued to the landscape; beautiful pine trees that rose high above anything else in this dull District.

"Lucille! Anthony!" Acadia shouted, rushing into our house. Naturally, our community was so intertwined that it wasn't unusual for Acadia to call my parents by their first names or rush into our small house without an invitation. I looked around our spacious living room, thankful that my siblings were yet to return from school or work. We rushed into the sawdust scented kitchen, where both my parents were drinking communal wine with a wise looking crone.

Oh no. I couldn't be humiliated like this in front of Sigrun. She was my idol, and for her to look down at me or know I had broken an important rule killed me inside. Chances were even if she wasn't here she would have heard such a scandal; she seemed to have ears everywhere. I looked down at my feet, trying to hide my shame.

"I just heard Percy talk to a boy about Aesim!" Acadia said, voice shaking. Why were they so scared? I didn't quite understand. I glanced at both of my parents, who seemed more shocked than angered. Somehow, that made it worse.

"Who?" My mother squeaked. I glanced at Segrun for a reaction, but she seemed as resolute as ever.

"The Peacekeepers' boy," I said morosely.

"Oh, oh no," my mother bit her bottom lip and leaned on the counter for support. My father held her, reassuring her lightly as they tried to keep their thoughts collected. I wondered if it was my place to speak up - why was our group so secretive, compared to the many other religions in District Seven? And it wasn't like the Peacekeepers' son would be compelled to tell anyone anyway... Right?

"I'm sorry," I said, hoping to grab back as much honour as I lost.

"Our community is in danger," my mother shook her head. "What can we do?"

"It's okay, we will find some way to survive this," Segrun finally said, her voice hoarser than usual but still filled with a near reassuring calm. She placed her glass of wine on the counter and looked at me. "I have saved money for tough times. Gold has bought silence for our community before, and thankfully we have plenty. I knew that with so many younglings in this generation that such a day would come..."

"Percy still broke our honour," my mother said. Acadia, who seemed so angry a minute ago, squeezed my hand sympathetically. I wish I could be mad at her for betraying me in such a way, but she was just being loyal to our gods. I'd have done the same if she were telling others about the community we were supposed to be so secretive about.

"I... I don't understand," I said. "Honesty is one of our virtues. Why are we so silent, when other faiths are so loud?" Everybody looked at me as if I were stupid and naive. Maybe I was, but I wanted to learn.

"Child," Segrun paused. "Panem may have other faiths, and despite many being persecuted for many things... Their District, for example, faiths have never been persecuted in this country. That is why you know so many other children from false faiths," she kindly took my hand and led me out of the kitchen, leaving my terrified parents to mull over their fear. A fear I wouldn't understand until Segrun explained it to me: "I have never liked the Polivasi's lack of discipline, but I do commend their tolerance. They have tolerated other faiths, for theirs is important to them."

She ushered me to sit down, standing tall above me.

"But that all changed when the Nystalgia family took charge. I was alive when Marx Nystalgia the First took over," a sad glint filled her misted eyes. "They weren't Polivasi. They were of no faith, they didn't understand faith. They didn't even tolerate it," she took in some air and started pacing around the room. I heard my parents' hushed whispers fill the silence. "They couldn't eradicate faith, it was important for many. But they could regulate it, and they did. They passed the Religious Tolerance Act; all religious leaders had to fill in a form and swear their allegiance to the Nystalgias - an allegiance that explicitly stated that the state was their primary idol, that their devotion was solely invested in Panem. Those who didn't sign their allegiance and continued practicing faith faced fines, prison, or if they persistently refused allegiance and devotion... execution."

It all made sense. "So we can lie right, and just swear our allegiance?"

"That's what many faiths did, dear. But we couldn't lie, nor could we truly abandon our gods in favour of flawed mortals," Segrun shook her head. "We became an underground community, which is why it was always stressed that you be silent. In retrospect, I feel it is our fault, we should have explained this to you, but we didn't want any of you to feel ashamed or persecuted. We wanted to wait until you were eighteen, at least."

"It is my fault for disobeying," I sighed. "I-I promise I will regain my honour."

She grabbed my hands and smiled reassuringly, always kind. "It is fine child. We will rise above this."

But I wanted my honour back. Maybe some people wouldn't look at me the same. Segrun was good with forgiveness, but what about the stricter people in the community? What if this forever prevented me from becoming a High Priestess in my old age? When my parents came into the room and began plotting quietly with Segrun, I thought of all the ways to gain my honour back.

There was one way: the path of the warrior. Aesim had always emphasised that battle was always the way of the Warrior. Many years ago, Aesists had become Peacekeepers or fighters of another kind, although for reasons I now understood they stopped. Aesists still trained physically, as it was mandatory that younger Aesists like myself were in strong physical condition, though we were never expected to fight for our honour - it was considered somewhat archaic a tenet. Emphasis was instead placed on preserving honour rather than gaining it.

And the way of the warrior wasn't a feminine path, but I couldn't help but feel like I could set an example by fighting for my honour. Whether I lived or died, my honour would come back and that felt like that was what mattered most. It was surely stupid... But I had almost a year to train, and I wasn't exactly weak anyway. I'd rather die with my honour than live feeling shunned, too...

... Maybe volunteering for the Hunger Games was my only option.

Day Sixteen, Afternoon

Xavier Day, District 5, 17

It didn't matter how much I kicked and screamed, the Peacekeepers were stronger than I were. It didn't help that I was handcuffed, too. I was dragged through a rotten corridor, jailcells either side at me. Cheering when they saw some kind of new arrival, deranged prisoners reached out and tried to snatch at me. Some even spat at me. I was unsure if it was because they were genuinely bad people or if it was because they knew I was a rebel.

Rebels didn't have the good reputation we used to. We were once freedom fighters, and now we were terrorists. The usage of explosions to disrupt the Capitol had backfired, meaning a large chunk of the public saw us as people who harmed many more innocents than bad people. They didn't know the sacrifices we had to make, the things we had to do to prevent a much greater evil.

I learned from a young age that the Capitol were evil. The Hunger Games were barbaric, even. But the severity of Rayann's punishment (and its laughable dressing up as a publicity stunt) was what had converted me to join the somewhat small rebellion that was going on within District Five. I knew Rayann's large, scattered family, and had briefly interacted with her in school - we were on the same football team in P.E. She inspired me to rebel.

Finding the rebels was hard - they didn't exactly pin recruitment ads around the District - but I found them eventually. My family and best friend Cassius had warned me, and they may have been right, but I was prepared to be a martyr from the very beginning. I would rather be dead than be unfree and exploited the way I was every single day, life in its current state wasn't worth living.

When I joined District Five's rebel faction, headed by the Hiebler family, the rebellion seemed to be at its strongest; we were receiving a lot of financial and military support and had more members than ever at a whopping two-hundred. We had successfully destroyed many of the District's industries to weaken the Capitol. But then it quickly went downhill; as soon as District Thirteen was seized, many documents were leaked and all of the rebels were exposed and rounded up. I watched myself as rebels were rounded up and shot in the centre square in front of other people, their blood filling the floor. And then I was dragged off.

A handful of rebels, including the Hieblers, had escaped into the forest. But not me. I was forever going to be their slave. I was already considering the method by which I would commit suicide - I could have been executed like other rebels, but I was forced to remain alive.

I was forced through a door. Judging by the small, office like room I knew it belonged to someone important. When I saw the grey haired, stoic man in front of me I already knew who it was. District Five's head Peacekeeper. I gritted my teeth and stopped myself from showing weakness when the two Peacekeepers behind me kicked me in the back, forcing me onto my knees instead of giving me the luxury of the wooden chair that was beside me.

"This is the young rebel?"

"The youngest rebel in the faction who didn't escape, yes Sir."

He beamed at me and I imagined stabbing him, just for the satisfaction.

"Death doesn't scare me," I spat at his feet. "Long live the rebellion!"

He didn't even react. "The rebellion is already dead."

I smirked at him defiantly, though I knew in my heart he was right: Districts One, Two, Six, Nine and Twelve barely had a rebellion to start with, the rebels in District Four, Eight and Eleven still existed but apparently were weakened, especially as the public were not in their favour. All of the other rebels had been absolutely decimated. What happened in Five happened in Three, Seven and Ten. Unless something miraculous happened, we would see this regime for years to come.

"We won't kill you, we're very kind," he stood up and I saw a glimpse of his strong leather boots. He whipped his foot across my face, blood spraying from my mouth as the Peacekeepers watched me drop to the floor. He stood on my arm and I finally showed weakness when it cracked. "Surely you know why we kept you alive, right? Think about it logically: you're the youngest rebel in your faction... Seventeen, soon to be eighteen..."

I mulled over it and felt my heart plummet into the depths of my stomach, slowly melting in my stomach acids. I wanted to throw up and this time staying resolute would be difficult.

"A fate worse than death. Either you're kept alive in these bad conditions for a year and finally killed..." He smiled. "Or you're alive, and left to the Capitol's whims. You think we're horrible, right? Their accents may be funny but..." He went down onto his knees and laughed in my face. "You haven't seen nothing yet."

"I'd rather die than take part in their evil Games," I snarled. "You'll kill me before I volunteer."

"You think you have to volunteer? You think the Games have never been rigged before?" He smirked. "I thought you'd know what the Capitol's capable of."

The more I thought about it, the worse I felt. That made sense... Whilst most of the tributes were reaped organically, the more I thought about it a lot of tributes just seemed too coincidental to end up the Games when their chances of being reaped were on in a million: kids of high status individuals seemed reaped disproportionately, as did people who had a malevolent nature.

"No..." I fought, desperately trying to grab the gun in the Head Peacekeeper's belt to end my own life. "No!"

My only good arm was intercepted and both of the Peacekeepers dragged me away with ease. Tears streamed down my face as I imagined the year of torment that was in store for me. Was it worth it now, when all I had done was enslave myself further? Had any progress been made because of my actions? I guess I'd never know. All I knew was that it was unlikely I'd see my family or feel any form of happiness again, all in the name of a failed rebellion. I was dragged down a dirt ridden corridor, thrown into an empty cell and locked in. But I remained lying down, curled up, beaten and in pain. I just wanted it to all end.

Lillee Duraton, District 4, 17

Floods of meathead Careers surrounded me, hoping to be the ones who would be selected this year. For the first time I agreed with them. Outside of the large academy, we were all huddled together excitedly. Most people had also brought their families along just in case it was their proud moment, but I decided to not bring mine. This was my mission, and I wanted my family as detached from the brutal process as much as possible.

Anyone who knew me would be laugh if they knew I trained for this one moment. Ever since a young age, I knew that I hated the Hunger Games. I'd always been a moralistic person - maybe even unrealistically so - so it was only natural I'd see the Games as brutal, violent and unnecessary. I once even started a 'march' which consisted of me and my friends protesting against it. It went a lot differently than I expected; I thought the Peacekeepers would come for us with their guns, but most of the people who noticed us with our cheap banners found it cute and funny.

It didn't take me long to latch onto the fact that the Hunger Games was just ingrained into our culture. Without the Hunger Games, it felt like there wouldn't be a Panem. Abolishing it felt impossible. I realised it wasn't the act of a death match that sickened me; if a consenting, well informed adult chose to do that, I guess I couldn't diss them. But the majority of the population didn't consent to be thrown into a fight to the death. That was what made me angry.

Once again, I went on a campaigning trail, but when people laughed at my idea of a volunteering only Hunger Games I grew disillusioned. I watched innocent kids who didn't want to fight or die be forced into doing so. Watching the atrocities of Honora and Pullox this year alone immediately sent angry tears down my face - and to think I was surrounded by people who cheered at it all. District Four may have been seen as one of the softer Career Districts, but there were still Careers here, some looking like they were processed in District Two or One. Joining the rebels was a tempting prospect, but I wasn't into the whole revolution thing, and the 'blow stuff up in the hopes it'll improve things' approach didn't stir me the right way.

I had to take action myself. So I did a couple of years ago. If you couldn't beat them, join them - and then beat them. I trained for the Hunger Games with the sole purpose of fighting, defeating the Careers and stopping their cruel antics, winning and then using my powerful influence as a Victor to slowly, surely and practically alter the Hunger Games so that it was volunteers only.

The Career Academy in District Four noticed as the quiet, moralistic girl who could barely hold a spear had suddenly rose up the ranks. I planned to volunteer regardless of who the Academy chose as a volunteer this year, but it would have been satisfying if they finally picked me. They knew I wouldn't chicken out and I had consistently performed well on a variety of skills - surely that was enough to please them?

We were let into the academy by an instructor, and after walking past multiple gyms, changing rooms and classrooms we finally reached the large assembly hall. Standing on the stage, holding a microphone, was the head trainer who watched as the Careers and their families filled up the room. Some parents had already made their way towards the tables at the side to grab a slice of cake or a savoury snack.

"This is an important year for District Four," the trainer announced as mumbling turned to silence. I looked at the sea of strangers, my heart racing. "There's been a lot of uncertainty, both with the rebels in District destroying the factories, jobs and livelihoods of many of our citizens." That drew boos from the audience. "We haven't won for many years and we fear that soon some primary investors will stop funding us." Even if that did happen, I was sure the academy would be well funded, considering all of us had to pay for training. "We thought we had a Victor with last year's selection, but... Well, we feel optimistic that this will be another wonderful year."

Cue cheers. I smirked. They may be in luck, because I hoped that I would win. I don't know how I was going to win when killing children who hadn't volunteered definitely caused a blip on my moral radar, but I felt sure it'd be fine. My District Partner, however, definitely had to keep an eye on me. He probably wouldn't last as long as the academy was anticipating...

"We're proud to announce our female volunteer as Lillee Duraton!" She announced. Some of the Career girls in the crowd were probably immediately furious, especially as I wasn't popular here. I walked to the stage, accompanied by moderate and polite applause. I gripped the head trainer's hand firmly as he gave me a proud shake. He turned to the microphone again: "And our male volunteer is... Yveaux Hathers!"

Yveaux got a much more heavy applause, leading me to feel a little deflated, but I reminded myself that outside the Career Academy I had lots of friends. Your cliché District Four guy made his way to the stage: tall, with light brown hair that almost faded into a blonde colour, light eyes, handsome features and a body that was quite muscular. I couldn't help but feel that he'd be getting his fair share of sponsors.

The carelessness he gave off as he walked onto the stage somehow emitted a charisma I felt I didn't have. I'd never met Yveaux before; we musn't have shared training schedules or classes, though I felt like if I had I'd remember him. Despite his charm, I immediately knew Yveaux was going to nothing but an annoyance. He probably wouldn't be as brutal as other Careers, but his sheer indifference would still be devastatingly frustrating.

I civilly stretched out my hand for him to take it as the applause continued, making sure to grip it tight and shake harshly. He didn't even seem to notice. He turned to the audience and waved, as if he had randomly decided that he enjoyed the attention.

"Now let the celebrations begin," the head trainer announced, leading dejected Careers and parents to stir around the room to mingle and eat.

"Nice tits by the way," Yveaux remarked, glancing at my chest for a second before he made his way back into the ground. Suddenly self conscious, I folded my arms around my chest and watched him make his way to two blonde haired bimbos. This was already going to be a hard year.

Day Sixteen, Evening

Francine Thales-Wren, District 3, 12

"It's just there," I said as my chauffeur began to approach the factory.

Driving was becoming something increasingly common in District Three. It somewhat amazed me that in the Capitol driving on the ground wasn't just commonplace, but they had hovercrafts that drifted through the air. Automobiles had always been produced in District Three, but they were a commodity reserved only for the middle classes and the privileged. I felt like in the nine other lower Districts the situation was very much similar.

But my family had owned not one, but three factories and had generated enough profit to buy as a large house, a fancy car and chauffeur to drive it. I reached into my pocket, taking out a tip and leaving it on the seat for him to retrieve as I opened the car door.

District Three's smoggy air had immediately hit me, and I was taken aback, used to the slightly cleaner air that surrounded our somewhat remote mansion. After checking my appearance in the car window to see if I looked appropriate (and my hair was messy, though that was to be expected; not even Capitolian shampoo could fix that genetic catastrophe) I made my way to the factory door.

Instantly recognising me as the Thales-Wen daughter, I was allowed into the factory that bore my initials on it. As I walked through clean corridors, windows gave me a glimpse into life for the lower levels of the pecking order: people wearing drab clothes, trying to fix machines or operate said machines to produce certain products. Their collective labour was generating millions in profit for my parents, right at that very moment. The Thales-Wen enterprise was always evolving, but I knew what was coming out of those hunks of metals: bullets, weapons, tanks, maybe even planes. District Three had very much become a war economy a year ago.

Security kept an eye on me, but didn't dare challenge me as I walked up to the window and pressed my palm against it. It felt strange; this would be the thing I'd inherit in many years time, when my parents would eventually pass on. They didn't have any other children, and I had a feeling that they planned to not have any other children. I was their only child, and their pride and joy.

After scanning my finger print on a touchpad in an area of the factory exclusive to the very important members of the corporation, smooth elevator doors slid open. I stood in the centre of the machine.

"To the meeting room," I said clearly.

"Yes, Francine," a well-spoken robot crooned as the doors jammed closed.

I felt the elevator zoom up, sidewards and plummet down slightly before it stopped moving completely. Remaining completely still, I looked at the room before me when the doors opened: it was taken over by a large table of well dressed people whose eyes were glued onto a television screen. A Capitolian news channel was playing, delivered by a woman who wore bizarre make-up.

"A recent by-election has approved of the Capitolian provisional government to be set in District Thirteen," she said. "Both Panemian and Thirteen citizens are reported to be working well together in integrating the new District into its old home-"

My father adjusted his spectacles, not noticing me as he wrote:

"So it looks like war is over," he mumbled. "Surely this means we need to re-evaluate our strategy."

"We generated billions in profit with our move to tone it down on the computers and tone it up on the weapons," I heard my mother, but couldn't see her. She was sat in a large leather chair that was faced away from me. I glanced at a fishtank which took up the whole left wall, watching fishes swim around and live their mundane lives. "We don't want that profit to decrease. Big profit means we get more, our shareholders are happy and we can actually afford to pay our employees something they're happy with. So we need to think: we don't just want Capitolians and the occasional upper District family buying our products - we want government to invest in us."

"Well the war is over, and we contributed to ending it," a tight bunned employee of my mother said, taking a sip of her water. "Our innovative technological advancements and our discount sales to the Panemian government was probably a large factor to the overwhelming Panemian victory in the war."

"We can't get ahead of ourselves," a bald man who sat beside my father snorted.

"Supply and demand," I eventually said, leading to the whole table to turn to me. I looked at my parent's employees; while they were probably enjoying their large salaries, it was kind of strange that I had some power over them. I definitely had a side that enjoyed power, although at school I was just the awkward rich girl. Here, I was the product of gods. "The very first law of economics."

"Honey, we had set up some activities at home for you to do," my father said, trying not to be irritated.

"Pay attention," I jerked my head to the television. There was a silence.

"An independent inquiry is taking place to determine the level of Romantian involvement in the war. In an official statement, Tibus Spector, the minister for defence has stated that the Pacific-Atlantic treaty made Romantia's involvement illega-"

I stood next to my father, barely taller than his seated form, grabbed the remote and turned the television off.

"The Capitol aren't stupid, surely their new victory makes that clear," I said, staring into the black screen. "They know that District Thirteen weren't an agent that operated alone. District Thirteen may have had a sizeable population, military and nuclear arsenal, but it was no Panem," it felt strange to have all these adults looking at me. My voice almost trembled: "Romantia is involved in this and the Capitol knows it. This woman," I said, lazily waving my arm towards the woman who spoke earlier. "Said advanced technology won the war, but it was espionage, the way the Capitol intercepted information from District Thirteen that crushed them and the rebels they co-operated with." I shrugged. "But Romantia is a bigger enemy here."

"Which means this could be something we invest in," my father scratched his chin.

"Are we really going to listen to a child?" A loud mouthed man protested.

"She's a Thales-Wren child, business is in her blood," my mother said reasonably, grabbing a file and opening it. "Okay: lets see how much we can invest into research for anything related to espionage. I want supply and demand graphs produced, as well as other stats that can see if we can keep our profits up," she smiled at me briefly and began to draw on the nearest sheet of paper: "We can also contact the economic minister and the minister of resources, lets see if our gut feelings are right about this." A pause. "Oh, and would someone be so kind as to make my daughter a ham sandwich? Mayonnaise, wholemeal bread, and sliced trianguarly."

Lillian Collier, District 10, 16

It wasn't just cattle that could be herded in District Ten, people often were too. Even though District Ten wasn't very densely packed, the metro line was very often full with people travelling through the miles of countryside in an attempt to get into the centre. My friends and I were tightly shut into one of the carriages, surrounded by at least fifty other people as we travelled underground.

"This train is for Victoria Way," a Capitolian accent crooned to everyone. As the carriage turn, I was almost flung into my friends, only just supporting myself by grabbing onto a pole. "Stopping at Central Ten - Town Square."

Eventually the metro screeched to a halt at a station where many people waited impatiently for the train. Like a dam caving in, a rush of people including me and my friends flooded out of the carriages while a few people awkwardly waited on the platform to make their way into the train. Town square was one of the few stations where more people left the carriage than got on them, due to it being one of District Ten's central hubs.

"I hate the metro so much," my raven haired friend Sabrina said, trying to keep up with me. "So hot. And it always smells. Some people in this District really need to shower."

I noticed adverts for the Hunger Games positioned on the metro as we made our way up a defunct escalator; framed pictures of a well-dressed Aurochs and Carlie, who looked intensely in our way as adverts were framed underneath: Is it your year? I eyed it for a second. Aurochs didn't even make it past the Bloodbath, and considering Carlie was sleeping with the fishes - almost literally - I knew it wasn't District Ten's year.

I wish it was. If Carlie had manipulated her way to victory District Ten would've been rewarded with extra food for a year. Maybe my parents could even have an extra day off and we'd be able to be fed - that would've been cool.

"I've always wanted that," my other friend Harley said, pointing at the rare advertisement that wasn't Hunger Games related: a Capitolian perfume. The advertisement showed Destiny Harte, who held the crystal bottle in front of her perfectly sculpted face. Like most other perfumes, it was pretentiously named. "Maybe my parents could take out a second mortgage and give me it for my birthday, who knows?"

"That stuff is like holy water," Sabrina said.

I had an idea. "Well, we could all save up and afford it," my friends all looked at me. "It'd take a couple of months and we'd probably need part time jobs, and we'd definitely have to split the perfume." I shrugged and smiled. "I don't know. Our birthdays are all pretty close together, I think it'd be kind of cool."

"I think I agree," Harley paused. "But I only have like ten credits in my pocket right now, and I know what I'm spending it on."

We had all made our way into the town square because it was one of the few days where the Peacekeepers would tolerate the black market; sellers and barterers would flock around the square at full force now that the screens that broadcoast the Hunger Games were slowly being taken down. There was still one screen standing, for the Victor's final interview, but the Hunger Games hype was kind of over.

The hype never truly died, I guess. Once the Hunger Games finished people were excited about - or nervous for - the next one, and the anticipation for that would build whilst the previous year would be milked for every penny it was worth. But it was nice the Games were over. I could only stand people dying on my television for so long.

We finally made it out of the underground, and walked past the lanes of uppity restaurants and boutiques that filled up the quaint area of District Ten's centre. The people who lived central, which was much more urban than the rural areas of Ten, tended to be a lot more rich than people like my family, who worked on the cattle farms or tried to keep the isolated small towns functioning.

I visited central District Ten often, but as I walked amongst crowds and looked through the shop windows I couldn't help but feel like I was kind of in another world. One of the stores even had a diamond ring - real diamond. And to think the Capitol was even richer; I couldn't even imagine the things that they probably had. Maybe they could have hot water every single day, or eat things like lamb regularly.

"I'm hoping to get a necklace," Harley remarked after briefly eyeing a necklace in one of the stores that was worth one-hundred and fifty credits. "Not one of those ones, but something in the market that will compliment my eyes quite nicely."

"I'm not spending that much money on an accessory, I'm hoping they have jeans or something," Sabrina said. When she saw me staring off into the distance, she picked up on the fact something was wrong. My friends knew me so well, and I couldn't fault them - they were always there for me. When my sister had died a couple of years ago, it was one of the worst things I'd ever experienced, but it had made me realise just how genuine my friends are. "Everything okay, Lily? What do you plan on getting?"

"Huh? I need a new shirt," I smiled, brushing off her question. "My ones are all a little stained."

"Your current shirt is fine," she said, which made me blush slightly. I always liked to look presentable. Even though I was poor, I was aware I was relatively attractive and did enjoy dating. "Come on, you're smoking hot."

"You say that like you aren't!" I deflected, giggling and ruffling Sabrina's hair while Harley made fake gagging noises. "And as hot as I may be, I will be finding the best shirt in all the land. The town's hogroast is coming up soon and I want to catch the eye of some handsome guys."

"Uh-oh, Lily is on the loose," Harley said, leading to them both cackling with laughter. I chuckled along more mildly.

All laughter stopped when we reached the town square. The atmosphere that buzzed immediately told us that something was seriously wrong. There were crowds at the square, but I couldn't see the market stalls or banners that were usually around in the days after the Hunger Games. The stage was elevated, the same stage tributes would stand on or where politicians would make grand speeches regarding District Ten's boring political situation. It had always had a strong presence, considering what it was used for and the fact our large, domed Justice Building could be seen clearly behind it.

But the person standing up there, proud and strong, was District Ten's Head Peacekeeper. She was a strong and intimidating woman, with choppy blonde hair and the scariest eyes you could ever imagine. Usually she covered her face with a helmet, but the fact it was off told me that something was seriously wrong. A choir of citizens began to mumble worriedly amongst themselves.

Curiosity got the better of me, and I slipped through the crowd to see what was happening.

"Lily, no," I felt Harley grab my hand. "Something is up..."

I ignored her and finally reached railings which separated citizens from the square. I'd never seen railings around the square since Reaping day.

Lots of people - like, forty people, were all tied up around their ankles and their wrists. Most of them just stared at the ground defeatedly, tears slipping down their bloody and bruised faces. Usually when someone was seized and accused of a crime like stealing they'd try to escape, but I picked up on how demoralised all these people must have been. They had no fight left.

And there were so many people. I'd seen public executions before - they were unavoidable. Usually a hanging would take place regularly in the District, but it was one person. There wasn't a whole line of people; women, teenagers, men...

"This is what happens when you try to form stupid little tantrum groups," the Head Peacekeeper screamed so loudly everybody could hear her without her microphone. She proceeded to take a heavy looking gun which was strapped to her back and ruthlessly aimed it at the line of people. Executions weren't usually so spontaneous or disorganised, but it made it even more chilling.

She didn't even shoot them one by one: flashes of light came out of her gun as she showered all of the convicted with bullets, leading everyone around me to scream in horror as their bodies shook even in death, blood spraying everywhere. There was a moment in silence - a moment of tortured bliss - and she aimed the gun again and continued hailing bullets into bodies that were already still, just to make sure they were dead.

Terror gripped me and I held onto the railings. The women next to me were sobbing and calling out a name I didn't recognise. Harley grabbed onto my shoulder so tight it hurt, not saying a word. Our silence said enough.

But some people continued to scream as blood ran through the square's floor. Smoke rose from the line of corpses that lay on the ground, all of them definitely dead. I looked down at my shirt and realised it had a large smidgeon of blood on it, and I suddenly felt unclean and sickened.

I'd seen some bad things, but nothing like this. The Capitol were never kind, but I'd realised that they were now scared - and not just scared, but they were more politically powerful than they were - if that was possible. That was a cocktail of cruelty.

"Bring out the next load!" The Head Peacekeeper shouted, raising her fist and shouting. The quiet minority of Capitol supporters started applauding, and as horrified as I was I couldn't help but be glued into place as another troupe of the walking dead slowly made their way into the centre of the square, lined up behind the bodies of their still comrades.

1. Here they are! If your tribute is on this list, they're in the story. Congratulations :D

D1:

M: Rosario Vogel (WaywardWordsmith)

F: Jordyn Rossi (JGrayzz)

D2:

M: Titan Bard (Remus98)

F: Agrippa 'Pip' Wilder (Europa22)

D3:

M: Syncis Allomoi (GryffindorOnFire)

F: Francine 'Frankie' Thales-Wren (BamItsTyler)

D4:

M: Yveaux Hathers (Littletimmy223)

F: Lillee Duraton (Computerfan)

D5:

M: Xavier Day (blangreck)

F:

D6:

M:

F: Roxanne Maxwell (TheFallenChildOfTheUnderground)

D7:

M: Tamal Arbor (Music Rules The World)

F: Perseverance 'Percy' Bright (asadderandwiserman)

D8:

M:

F: Arabella 'Bella' Thern (Just-Your-Ordinary-Author)

D9:

M: Silas Calder (DryBonesKing)

F: Tesni 'Tess' Rosette (Alecxias)

D10:

M:

F: Lillian 'Lily' Collier (YourDownfall)

D11:

M:

F:

D12:

M: Arran Taron (Baenerys)

F: Cassandra Diorite (charlieal12)

2. Seriously - congratulations. I got like 45 different people submitting this year (with a handful of those submitting multiple tributes!). I expected a big chunk It really surpassed my expectations. For those who haven't got in, I'm sorry, there was just so much competition, and I'm being really picky this year. But there are empty spaces, so feel free to fight for your last chance of getting into the story :)

However, if one of your tributes made it, please don't try and fill up the vacant spots. A lot of people want a character in the story, so I'm trying to let as many people as possible have a spot :)

3. If your tribute is on that list but wasn't on the tribute spotlight, dw! I could only pick ten tributes, and it wasn't as simple as the best getting the spotlight; some were kept secret to remain secret, and some just didn't evoke strong images in my head for a spotlight compared to the others. When HuOBHu comes along, they'll all get an equal voice :)

4. I like enjoying editing a tributes' history, or even adding details. Be prepared for that. So if their history/name/District/anything has been edited, it is very conscious.

5. Okay, essay time: religion seems to be a much bigger theme for tributes this year. There are a lot more religious tributes this year, and a lot more actively non-religious tributes too. I'm interested to write about this tbh, as I've always found religion a really interesting topic. If you want my perspective/history on religion: I was raised by an atheist dad, my mother was a liberal Christian (Anglican, to be precise) and my grandparents' strict ones. I mostly followed in my grandparents' footsteps and 'god' was a big part of my life until I was about 14 and questioned it all. I eventually became an agnostic, and then an atheist. To be precise, at one point in my life I'd have described myself as explicitly 'anti-theist', which is a Dawkinsesque perspective of religion where I believed it was something inherently poisonous.

My stance has definitely softened for multiple reasons. I can see how religions can help people and can be a driving force for good. I'm still a non-believer, but I don't really have any qualms with religion. I'm trying to write from a religious perspective to the best of my knowledge, so yeah.

Also, Panem's religious situation is really complex. The de facto religion and general belief is that they worship a bunch of unnamed gods, similar to a Roman/Greco system in that there is no strict doctrine (they are simply known as the 'New Gods', but the religion itself is called Polivasi or Polivasism), but Christianity and its influence has definitely stayed in many scattered forms (known to other religious denominations, non-believer and the Polivasi as the 'Old God'). Non-believers are also common though - Marx Nystalgia himself is not a Polivasi. However, because of Polivasism's lack of doctrine it's very hard to distinguish atheist/agnostics from the Polivasi. Evolved forms of Islam, Judaism etc all exist too.

6. There's a good few LGBT characters this story. I mean, every story has had at least one LGBT character so far, but this story may end up being one big gay lovefest... who knows :p

7. I've given up third person for tribute spotlights. While I actually prefer writing in third person, I'm in first person mode :)

~Toxic