I'm really happy I managed to get the next chapter out during my long weekend! I'm hoping for the next chapter to be out during spring break. Maybe you'll get one sooner, just depends how much school work and how much work throws at me.

Training Day 2: Immeasurable Dread

~They ask me if I'm lying

I say really really

I'm really out my mind~

Demetrius Deck (17), District 11

Demetrius sat at the far end of a table, away from anyone, away from people who might want to initiate a conversation with him. He was right by the bathroom door, and another door that would leave the room to go back to the training room, which was currently being blocked by a peacekeeper. He knew why they were there, to make sure none of the tributes left the room until it was time to go back into the training room, so everyone had an equal amount of time. Right after lunch, they would go back to the training room a little bit longer until it was time to call it a day and head back up to their designated levels.

He didn't bother touching his food, and instead turned his attention to the small, plastic water bottle.

He chugged his water. The cool liquid easily slid down the back of his throat, and drank it all until there was nothing left out of his water- not even a drop remained. He put the plastic water bottle back on the table, his thoughts swirling on two things- one, he wanted more water, and two, he just wanted to be in the arena.

It wasn't because he was anxious to go, killing people and seeing so many people die. It was merely because he just wanted to get this done and over with. He was sick of waiting around. On the whole pretending that everything was perfectly okay because they were in the Capital, and there was nothing wrong. It was like they were on marionette strings while a puppet strung them along in a play, forcing them to go along with the puppeteer's games, and pulling the strings back at the last second once something good was about to happen. He was tired of the dread that clung in the air and how much it increased as the days ticked closer and closer until the games started.

He understood the Capital's reasoning, but it was still frustrating.

He grabbed his empty plastic water bottle, and crushed it. He heard the plastic crunching inside the palm of his hand, until he couldn't crush it anymore. The water bottle sprung up a little bit once the pressure of his hand was gone, but was still pretty small and crushed.

"Ooh, cool," he heard someone say.

Demetrius resisted the urge to jump by the sudden interruption of a voice. It sounded like a kid- like a small little girl. He looked in front of him and to the sides of him, but couldn't find the source until he twisted his body to reveal a small girl with a large beaming smile at him, the gap in her teeth very apparent along with her dark, shoulder-length hair.

"Oh, thanks," He said in a rather monotone voice.

"You know you can light a fire inside it?" The girl asked.

Demetrius shook his head. His gut was screaming at him not to trust the girl, and avoid finding out what she was planning, but he was curious. He mentally added a note, to avoid the girl at any cost inside the arena.

"See?"

The strange girl grabbed the crushed plastic water bottle from his hand, tore a couple of scraps of his napkin, and dropped it inside the small opening of the bottle. A couple of napkins resided in the bottle, crumbled up a little bit.

He watched as the girl pulled a matchbox out of her outfit, and struck it against the side. Orange, yellow flames were on the match, creating a small fire, and a small sizzling sound was heard. The girl grabbed the rest of the napkin and was about to light it on fire, until a hand in a white glove grabbed the girl's skinny, lightly-brown wrist.

Demetrius looked up to see the peacekeepers right in front of them, two of them pointing their guns at them, while the one holding the girl's wrist, grabbed the lit match and the matchbox away from her, using their other hand. He instinctively looked down at his tray, keeping his hands out in front of him, until he saw the shadows of the peacekeepers retreating to wherever they came from. He knew better than to trust peacekeepers, and had no will to find out what the ones in the Capital were like, if they were anything like back home.

~But she'd be fine pretending

Things were alright, even while its ending keep it inside

She can feel them bending~

Mary Grace Su (12), District 9

Mary Grace hugged her knees to her chest, tears glistening on her eyelashes and streaming down her round cheeks. Through her blurred vision, she could see the white silhouette of a toilet sitting in front of her, a constant presence to know where she was currently sitting.

In a bathroom stall.

Alone.

For the second day in a row.

Mary Grace knew she was being ridiculous in hiding in a bathroom stall on the floor. She knew she shouldn't listen to the ever-constant voice over her shoulder, murmuring, don't make a mistake, they're judging you and no one likes you. But it's very hard to do so, when that was the only thing that was constant in her life.

The only thing that talked to her on a day-to-day basis.

There were days where the voice became louder and louder to the point where it was deafening. Sometimes, she wanted to plug her ears just to simply silence the voice, but it was no use. How do you silence the voice that kept you company late at night, where loneliness crept up, like a silent monster, standing there, standing so close that you could feel its presence hovering just a couple of centimeters from where you are lying. Waiting until the moment where you give in to the silent presence, and just give up that you are destined to be lonely.

The voice kept her company, whispering sweet little things that her little self couldn't help but believe in, whispering, I'll never leave you, I'll be your friend forever. What Mary Grace failed to realize at the time was how many sleepless nights she received in return- overthinking her life, overthinking every little situation, and analyzing every social situation she had during the day, and how she should have changed it. She should have ran when the voice started whispering things that she knew couldn't possibly be true, but it was already too late.

There was no escaping from its clutches. No way to silence a voice born out of darkness, shadows, tears, and the younger sibling of loneliness.

She just had to live with it, with its constant scrutiny and everything including the whispering lies of people that it spoke. It kept her trapped in the clutches of the shadows, in the darkness that bled into the outside, and inside her. Keeping her locked in a metal cage with bars all around her, with the door unlocked until she knew it was safe.

Until she knew someone was going to reach through the darkness, through the thorns and the horrors the darkness brought, until she reached their hand out, bringing in light to escape the darkness- in order to save her.

Until then, she was destined to be alone.

~I must think of a new life

And I mustn't give in

When the dawn comes, tonight will be a memory too~

Veronica Alder (17), DIstrict 3

Veronica was alone at the camouflage station, which she didn't mind. At least she didn't really have to socialize with anyone or share the paints with anyone else. She didn't mind sharing with people, but it was just annoying that they were in a life-and-death situation where they only had three days, well, one more day, to learn everything they can before they show their skills to the game-makers. She didn't want to wait for people to stop using a color that she desperately needed to make herself disappear into the wilderness, into the background.

Veronica looked around the room, hoping to find the inspiration to be able to blend easily and without much effort. She knew people would try to blend into the light brown of a tree, or even try to blend into a meadow with wisps of different colors of green, ranging from light green to dark green, and draw different sizes of grass up their arms.

But she didn't want to do that.

She didn't even want to try and match her dark brown skin to the color of dirt. Mainly, because it wouldn't be too hard considering the dark tint, the color of earthly dirt that shone when the sun hit on it. It would be too simple and the idea of Hunger Games wasn't just too put children in a life-or-death situation where they must kill each other to survive; it was also, a really hard puzzle with a solution that wasn't too obvious, but something you merely had to think outside of the box, for.

As she always thought, if there was a problem, there was always a solution.

And trying to find something that she can easily camouflage herself, also called for a solution.

Nothing really stuck out to her. Everything around her was the same muted dark colors, with shadows covering the corners of the room, and around some of the stations, and it gave her an idea. She felt weird thinking about it more. A part of her knew she was going to be perpetuating some racist ideology on how Black people disappear in the dark. But she also thought, if the darkness was just right, you can easily make yourself disappear, regardless of skin tone.

There was also a higher chance that there would be shadows in the arena, and places to hide then there would be foliage. Every year, the arena was something different, but it was better to be safe than sorry.

So, Veronica dipped a paintbrush into the black paint. The light glistened on the black paint when she put it out of the jar of paint, the tip of the paintbrush covered in black paint. She took a deep breath, and lowered the paintbrush onto her arm, coating her arm with black paint.

The paint felt cool and wet against her skin. It was a strange sensation, but Veronica simply ignored it as she continued to paint her arm.

She looked up at the shadows and the way it shrunk away from the light, but also how the light didn't touch some areas, creating a small area where blackness resided, color-matching her skin against the shadows, until it almost blended perfectly into the shadows.

~So they dug your grave

And the masquerade

Will come calling out at the mess you've made`

Killian Swan (18), District 5

Killian set the gray, metal tray down on the table. HIs ally, Kai, was already eating on the red apple that they gave them for lunch, including a sad-looking excuse of what it supposed to be a tuna sandwich, along with a small clear, plastic water bottle filled with water. It was quiet, save for the very low conversations, occasional breathing, and the sound of chewing. He looked around the table, a couple of people who were clearly much younger than him, their hands shaking as they ate their lunch quietly, keeping their heads down. From a far distance, he saw the white uniforms and helmets that belonged to the peacekeepers, their hands on their rifles, slung across their bodies, looking at them with no movement, coming from them.

He ignored the feeling of being watched as he picked up the tuna sandwich off the tray. There was a small crunch to the bread, from being set out a little too long. The tuna was white looking, and very creamy but essentially had no flavor added to it. A stark difference from the train ride's foods, or even last night's dinner where there was some taste.

He finished eating his tuna sandwich. He glanced over to his left to find the other tributes from two and four. It was only three of them, but they kept their distance, and their eyes felt like they were mocking them. It felt like they were judging them, and he felt the reminder that he didn't escape the mocking and judging eyes from back home. He didn't escape the words, and the whispers that constantly followed him wherever he went, just because they weren't happy about his mom's actions or why she wasn't resigned from her position. He knew the other tributes weren't thinking that, but that small part of him thought it did.

He knew better than to ask questions, but he couldn't help but ask the one question that he couldn't help, but continue to think about.

"How come you aren't with other careers?" He asked.

Kai didn't say anything for a little bit. He finished chewing the bite from his apple, and looked over to the spot where Killian looked over earlier, until he eventually explained,

"They weren't going to accept me," He murmured, "I come from district two which you know is very patriotic and loyal to the Capitol. Things happened, and my mom and I are paying the price for it." Kai's voice was a whisper after he said the words things happened.

Killian was stunned. His brain was trying to connect the dots, with the in-between the words to figure out what Kai said. It wasn't really hard, but he really wasn't expecting to find out that his ally came from a line of traitors. He wondered how he remained unscathed when he knew traitors were being hunted and executed, and still happens occasionally after the war ended. It also showed that his district partner knew what it was like in being bullied, in having people refuse to get to know you for something that you didn't do.

"Oh," Killian eventually said, after a small pause.

"What about you?" Kai asked.

Killian looked up at him, meeting Kai's dark-blue eyes.

"Why did you volunteer?" Kai clarified.

"I didn't know him, but he was twelve. I thought…" his voice trailed off before he eventually found its footing again, "I thought maybe if I volunteered for the kid, maybe I wouldn't be considered like my mom and what she does."

Kai offered a small smile, "You can't change people's minds… Sometimes, you just have to learn to live with it and ignore it. You can't change people."