Twyla Zahavyin(D5 Female)

I studied myself in the mirror, my narrowed green eyes watching every movement I made. I figured I looked good in black. It clashed with my long black hair, but only slightly; my hair was red at the bottom anyway. Red and black looked good together.

My lips pursed as I saw the huge bags under my eyes, and all the little cuts I had collected over the years from my stepmother's abuse. I could say that was child abuse, but nobody really cared or payed attention to me, and papa was always at work.

I concocted another fantasy where I didn't have these bruises. Where I was just a normal girl, growing up in a place where the world is taken over by the Capitol and its Hunger Games. Because of my mom, I have it a whole lot worse, in this already bad place.

I laughed a little at the thought that I would get picked into the Hunger Games. My bad luck would be just dreadful. I could just about say that my whole life was ruined without even lying.

I returned my attention back to the mirror. That was one thing that my long dress didn't hide- the cuts along my arms. I figured maybe I could just ignore them and everything would be fine. After all, today was the day of the Reaping. Afterward, I could take refuge in my room and have a nice long day without having to go to school.

"TWYLA!" my stepmom screamed up the stairs. Gosh, even her voice sounded like a witch's. I even called her a witch in my head.

"Coming!" I called back, hugging my arms as I headed out of my room and to the small kitchen where the Witch had made breakfast. That was what she did all day- verbally and physically abuse me, plus do all the house chores, while papa worked.

Kids in District Five were fortunate enough to have school, but my stepmom wouldn't let me go until I was eleven. That was extremely unhealthy for my social status, and I had lived my life without friends.

My stepmom- her real name is Gisele by the way- curled her lip as I walked into the room. I tried my best to ignore her like I always did, but failed. Her glare could burn through ice.

"Today is the Reaping," she remarked, sitting down on the chair across from me. There was a third chair, to my left, that was supposed to be papa's, but he rarely came back early enough to eat with us. Then the fourth... I felt another icy twinge crawl up my spine.

The fourth chair was for Ronnie, my stepbrother, who was the light that made me sane. He was my only friend, and he died in an electrical fire three years ago. I pushed myself away from the memories, set my jaw, and looked down to my bowl, which contained a slice of gross-looking bread. Trying not to glare at my stepmother, I finished the piece of bread. It tasted worse than usual. Probably the Witch's anger issues about the Reaping.

I cleaned up the table and attempted to get out without another scratch, but of course that wasn't possible. Gisele hissed, "What do you think you're doing, you little brat?" and, just like that, she delivered a stinging slap to my shoulder. It hurt like fire, and I let out a cry, even though I'd learned to toughen up over the years. The pain was as searing as hot coals.

I looked up to see Gisele's triumph, witch eyes gazing into my own. "Never try that again," she growled. "Or you'll be sorry." She shoved me into the door and yanked it open so that I fell back, almost onto the ground. "Now leave! If you were a well-behaved girl, you would volunteer at the Capitol's little game."

I backed away as I heard the door slam shut in front of me, then began walking like I did every year. I got tesserae every year, so now, I had twenty pieces of paper, saying my name, in the glass bowl where the District Five escort, Sabrina Mink, chose just one slip. I was one of the few people who considered tesserae, since District Five was one of the wealthier districts.

The square was crowded, so I had to duck around the crowd to get to the other sixteen-year-olds. Sabrina Mink was behind a podium on the stage, looking regally dressed as always. Her gemstone eyes were outlined in black so many times it looked like she was a panda, and her pale white skin contrasted with her sparkling silver-blue curls, hanging in ringlets all the way to her waist. She wore a violet dress that went down to her knees in the front, but touched the ground in the back. Basically her normal looks.

The mayor, in a formal suit and tie, sat on a chair with their two victors. His hair was graying, yet he looked as formidable as he had always been. Isaak Caraway had won the 7th Hunger Games by staying hidden until the very end, then slicing off a Career's head with an axe. I had watched the Career girl's death multiple times, watched how the axe just sliced cleanly through her neck. How could just one weapon do that? It seemed incredibly gruesome.

Zippina Roxfeld, the other victor, was still young, winning the 30th Hunger Games at the age of fifteen. She had viciously killed a total of four tributes in just the Bloodbath, and two more later on, which was probably the record number of kills anyone had ever gotten, including the Careers.

I froze as Sabrina Mink announced the beginning of the Reaping. She declared some gushy things about the Capitol that I wasn't really paying attention to(I was more focused on the fact that I would get a whole day off), then showed the video like she did every year. The one that explained our past.

Then, before I knew it, the video was done and she was saying in that chirpy Capitol accent, "Ladies first!" My eyes, like everyone else's, seemed to be poised on her violet silk glove that clawed through the mounds of paper slips.

She pulled one out. I felt sweat slip down my face like it always did whenever I was at the Reaping. This was a nervousness that nothing else could create. It changed the whole course of one's life: either you came back famous, or you were dead, dead, dead.

Her lips were moving, and the name she said would haunt me for the rest of my pitiful life.

"Twyla Zahavyin."

Oh, how I wished I could've punched Gisele in the face earlier!

Mica Mendel(D5 Male)

I walked off to the Reaping with my four older brothers, who were all walking ahead of me. Eh. They probably already forgot about me. I reached into my pocket for the coil of wire I liked to play with and kept my hands occupied the whole way there.

Woah. The Square looked nothing like it did on normal days. Usually, it was dreary and gray, surrounded by Peacekeepers, plus generally too boring for me to handle. Now, it had cameras posted everywhere, and balloons were duct taped to the four poles on either side of the Square.

I joined the other fourteen-year-olds with a sigh, and was almost immediately tugged to the front by one of my best friends, Atom(everyone called him Tom). Ashalia, his twin sister, and Albert Francis from school were there too, looking at least a tiny bit nervous.

I tried to cheer them up by remarking, "Look what I've got here!"

That captured their interest for a second, but then they were looking back to the escort, Sabrina Mink, and the conversation turned to the Reaping too. God, we must've sounded like a bunch of District 1 people right then and there.

"Sabrina Mink wears the most awful dresses," Ashalia whispered, her eyes darting to our escort. Of course Ashalia would think that- she was skilled at making clothing of all sorts. She could've even blended in with the textile District just fine.

Albert fidgeted slightly. "Oh look, the video's playing."

Then everyone was zombie-fied into staring at her delicate hand, reaching into the bowl of possible female tributes, and pulling one out. Just one, perfectly shaped, slip of paper, like the rest of them. Oh, she was so important to us. Not in the worshipping way like the Career Districts, but in the way that she twisted the future, just like that. If she had moved her hand a different way, there would be a whole other name coming out of her name.

I was praying for Ashalia right now. Her full name was Ashalia Martilzee, which kind of explained why Sabrina was having trouble with pronunciation.

"And the female tribute is..," she declared at last.

"Twyla Zahavyin!"

I let out a deep breath without realizing I had been holding it. Ashalia was grinning, "Another year of the Hunger Games without being drawn," and Tom was looking fairly relieved. I watched as the Twyla girl strode up to the stage, looking close to tears but refusing to let them fall. I wondered how I hadn't noticed her before. She had unusual black hair that faded into red at the bottom, tied into a braid, and a toughness to admire about her.

But she would also be going to the Hunger Games. That was a death sentence for everyone in the Districts- all but the Careers, of course.

Now Sabrina was reaching into the bowl that held all the male tributes. I clenched my jaw, feeling like breaking down in front of everyone else even though she hadn't even picked anyone yet. Her hand skimmed over a couple, then landed on one. She swept it out and announced the male tribute in a flash:

"The male tribute is..." Moment of suspense there. "Mica Mendel!"

Wait. What? I wished my name was anything else right then. Anything but Mica Mendel. Just one letter wrong and I would be off the hook another year.

I was only fourteen! That was no age to go into the Hunger Games! Whoever had heard of a fourteen-year-old winning? They were always the eighteen year olds, or the sixteen and seventeens. Not the fourteens!

Ashalia grabbed my shirt and yanked me out onto the walkway, though a couple tears had made its way down her face. I bit on my lip, my eyes widened, and tried to smile, to no avail. My hands were like spiders snapping at each other.

"Shake hands, tributes of District Five!" Sabrina chirped. I grabbed Twyla's hand and shook it; I could feel the sweat on her palm.

We were quickly ushered to the building in front of the Square after, to say goodbye to our parents and all that. I couldn't believe I had just been chosen. Out of all those names, me? A fourteen year old who only had three slips of paper in there?

Two Peacekeepers, guarding a large door, opened it up to me, and to Twyla across the hall. I entered it, squinting at the sudden bright light. That was when I allowed my tears to finally show through. Here, in private.

I slumped down on the couch, not really caring if it was made of expensive red velvet and all that. I was utterly doomed now. How would I win the Hunger Games? I had never even touched a weapon before, never mind used one. If somebody were to attack, I would be dead.

My family were the first visitors. The goodbyes were long and hard, and I hadn't even entered the Hunger Games yet! I hugged my father and promised I would win, while he cursed under his breath. My dad never curses.

My four tall, muscular brothers, Dave, Wyatt, Edison(or Ed), and Cooper, admired the couch mostly. They didn't have any real connections with me, as I was often alone in my bedroom, so they weren't exactly expressing any sadness. I bet they were excited to see what I had for the Hunger Games.

After my family came Tom, Ashalia, and Albert. Ashalia was sobbing outwardly, while Tom and Albert were gazing stormy-eyed at me. "You have to win," she sniffled. "For all of us."

"I will," I promised. More like, lied. I was not going to win, there was just no chance.

She grabbed my hand and squeezed it before stepping back. Tom muttered, "You gotta win. For us, Mica. That Capitol's evil and you gotta prove them wrong."

Albert added, "We'll watch you on TV. We'll cheer you on. Just know that when you're in the arena. Don't break down. Don't get too nervous or let your guard down." He winked. "And get allies."

I nodded, not even feeling like being funny right now- I was just too miserable. They were ushered out and there was a loud silence before a girl I didn't know with strange hair- wait, was that Twyla? Yep, it was her. What was she doing here?

"Hey," she said urgently, plopping down on the sofa. "I didn't get any visitors, so you know, why not hang out here?" She peered at my hand. "Hey, what's that?"

I looked down at what she was staring at and revealed a sparkly violet pendent, with the words, Best Friends Forever written across the front in yellow letters. I put the chain around my neck and squeezed the pendent. This was definitely from Ashalia. She had probably gave it to me while grabbing my hand, and my fingers had been around it ever since.

"Ooh, sparkly," she admired. I stared at her, but then she rolled her eyes. "Yeah. Sure. But no visitors means no taken, so bad luck for me."

"What about your parents?" I asked her. My voice sounded slurred.

"My dad's out working, like, every second of the day. He didn't even come to the Reaping. And my mom hates me. So that's pretty horrible for expecting visitors." She frowned. "Plus I've got no friends."

I didn't know what to say to this so we were just quiet until Sabrina Mink called us out.

Time for a long train ride.

7/13(ish)/17