Tamin Sirket, 18, District 5

6 years ago

Tamin loved learning. If he could, he wouldn't do anything but learn new things. He remembered when he was young, he would scare his parents by wandering off through the market of Five, just observing people going about their day. He'd stop at a booth and inquire about the goods. Most shopkeepers found him endearing and would answer his curious questions. "How did you make this?" and "Where did you get the wood for this?" never grew old to him.

With his natural curiosity, Tamin's parents thought he would excel in a classroom. Unfortunately, being stationary and reading from textbooks were two of Tamin's least favorite things. He got antsy in school and his grades were not something he was proud of. His unconventional bubbly behavior with disappointing test scores made him a prime target for the school bullies. "Terrible Tamin'' was a nickname one of them gave him after a particularly rough grade.

Tamin didn't know if he could have taken much more if it weren't for his friends. At the time, they were barely acquainted. But, like Tamin, they too were fed up with shitty little kids getting away with whatever they wanted.

Tamin remembers that day well. He wishes the teacher didn't step out of the room for so long. But he guesses if she didn't, things might have played out differently in the end.

"Aww, Terrible Tamin strikes again," one of the meaner of the bullies flicked him in the head. The teacher had just returned the essays they wrote the prior week, and Tamin's final score was embarrassingly low. Tamin genuinely thought he would've scored better if he hadn't turned it in at all.

At least he wouldn't have anything for people to make fun of.

"Leave me alone…" Tamin muttered, but the bullies either didn't hear him or didn't care. Or both.

"He tries so hard. How cute." The bully ripped the essay out from under him and held it so his friends could see it.

"Look how pathetic this is," his mockery made Tamin turn red with embarrassment. He was about to push out of his chair when a girl from his class stood up and stomped over to the bullies.

"You're a waste of space. At least Tamin submitted the assignment on time, unlike you." The confident girl stared into the bully's eyes.

"Get out of here," another boy Tamin knew as Carson said as he stood up behind Jenny. The bullies were angry but flustered. When was the last time someone, let alone multiple someones, stood up to them?

"Come on, they're not worth it," one of them mumbled, pulling the rest away. As they all scattered, Tamin was shocked, relieved, and confused. Jenny and Carson, along with another student he didn't recognize sat down.

He didn't know what to say. He just sat and listened as the three new arrivals conversed around him. At first, he feared they would make similar comments. But as time passed, he started to feel more comfortable around them. He engaged in conversation. And his new friends continued to sit alongside him every single day.

Tamin finally felt the sense of security he always longed for.

(If only it hadn't been ruined.)

4 years ago

Many days of Tamin's life were unremarkable. He lived a standard life, he went to school, he hung out with his friends, he returned home to spend time with his parents and four siblings, rinse and repeat. Although it was simple, it was comforting. Tamin had everything he could have ever wanted, and he loved every moment of it.

He looked forward to one day in particular because he planned on visiting his dad during his lunch break. He did this often, during his lunches and his weekends, but it had been some time since his last visit, and he longed to be back. The factory was almost like a second home to him.

So he arrived like he always did, and set up in the tiny break room like he always did. The break room had a tiny glass window where he could watch his dad work while he ate his lunch and worked on some homework he may have been behind on. Like he had done so many times before.

Except, no time before had a piece of equipment shorted out. Or if it did, it hadn't been found in any safety inspections. Or no safety inspections had ever been conducted.

It doesn't matter what did or didn't happen leading up to that day. All Tamin knew is that for one minute, everything was fine. And seconds later, he was hot. He was thrown back against the wall. His ears were ringing, and people were screaming. The light from the fire burned his eyes. Not literally, but they might as well have.

But none of that compared to Tamin seeing his father flying back into other machinery. He remembers how slowly time seemed to move. He remembered the blood. And the smell, the smell will never leave his memory.

Six workers were killed, including Bly Sirket, and four more were wounded. In a mere ten seconds, Tamin's word was completely rotated amongst itself. He receded into his own brain, the explosion replaying over and over and over again. What if he wasn't in the office? What if he was with his dad? What if he had more time to react? Could he have saved his dad? Could he have stopped it? Could he have done….anything?

The logical part of Tamin's brain knew the answer. But the other part, the part that controlled the majority of his thoughts, that's the part he got lost in. And he stayed lost for a long time. His mother couldn't get him out, and neither could his siblings. No, it took help from a person he never expected to find it from to escape the dark hole that had become his mind.

6 months before the reaping

The sun shined through Tamin's window and pulled him out of his deep slumber. Most days, this would have irritated him. But not today. Not when Ms. Sill had work for him to do.

Having lived beside the Sirket family for all of Tamin's life, he didn't know how it took so long for him to become acquainted with her. An older lady who had lost her husband in the same way the Sirket's had lost their father, she was monumental in Tamin returning to some semblance of normalcy. She invited him to learn to knit one day, and although he had no interest in the hobby, it was either that or getting lectured by his mother. So he chose the path of least resistance.

And he's glad he did. They didn't speak about either accident that took their loved ones' lives, but Tamin didn't care. Seeing how Ms. Sill has coped gave Tamin a lick of hope. That, combined with the distraction of knitting, did wonders.

Ms. Sill must have noticed as knitting turned into gardening turned into cleaning turned into….anything she needed. She kept Tamin busy and paid him generously for his time. Some tasks seemed like ones Ms. Sill didn't need him for, but he didn't complain, and neither did she.

And Ms. Sill was how Tamin started doing similar tasks for others in the district. He didn't officially work until he was eighteen, as his father had a little money stored for the family that they were able to use as a supplement. When he turned eighteen, Tamin took up the job of delivery boy, although he did more than just deliver mail and purchases and everything in between. With his newly learned skills, he often lent a hand in the market. Shopkeepers already liked Tamin because of his reputation as a "curious little boy". Shopkeepers that knew what Tamin and his family had been through, and like Ms. Sill, wanted to lend him a hand.

He didn't enjoy taking days off, but he would if his mother asked. Like him, she worked often to support the family and on the days the kids weren't in school, or she was working late, it fell on Tamin to watch over them. But he did it without complaints. He rarely complained, he was happy to help. He was always eager to help. Maybe a little too eager, his mother told him.

He could have taken a job at a factory, but he refused. The idea of going inside once again injected him with anxiety that overtook everything else. No, Tamin Sirket would never find work in a factory. He would never step foot in another one ever again.

So Tamin Sirket's life wasn't perfect, it wasn't even close. But like Ms. Sill, Tamin recovered and found a place for himself with those around him whom he called family.

And with that, he would have been okay.

Roman Euroka, 16, District 9

Childhood…

If you asked Roman what his favorite part of growing up was, he would tell you it was his siblings. As the firstborn, Roman doesn't remember life without them. He was three when Ermias was born, and he couldn't have been happier at that time. He doesn't have specific memories from then, but he does remember the overwhelming feeling of love and support he felt.

Then a short two years later, Roman welcomed a new sister into his life. And with Piper came the start of the rest of his life.

"Roman honey, would you take care of your brother?" his mother had asked him at least every other day. And he said yes with a glee on his face. His father was working, his mother was caring for the baby, and Roman was taking care of his brother. He felt just as important as the adults in the family, and it was a nice feeling.

His tenth birthday came and went. With a new decade came more responsibility. It didn't surprise Roman, as Colette was born no more than a year after Piper. Even though Ermias was seven (older than Roman was when he started helping), it was Roman who cooked and cleaned every night. His father was working from sunrise to sunset and his mother was working full-time while juggling two toddlers. But when they were around, they were sure to thank Roman for his hard work. They made sure he knew they couldn't do it without him. So Roman kept it up with a smile on his face.

With the birth of Moss the responsibilities just never seemed to stop. As soon as the bell rang after school, Roman was rushing to collect all of his school-aged siblings. He would take them straight home, cook and clean what felt like all night, ensuring each one of them completed their assignments for the evening. It was only after he tucked them into bed he could begin his own assignments. Many were left unfinished. Roman simply did not have time.

His teachers and his friends noticed. His friends offered to help him after school. It was an idea that had simply never crossed Roman's mind before. Hanging out with friends after school?

But when he brought it to his parents, he was told no.

"Your mother and I can't spare the time off, Roman. I'm sorry," his father had said. It had crushed Roman. He was only thirteen, but he felt thirty. Especially once he realized all of the kids in his school were doing half, no, a quarter of the work he was doing.

"I barely see my siblings outside of bedtime," one of his friends told him about one particularly rough day Roman was having. It ignited a flame inside him, a small one albeit. But as he grew, so did the flame. Igniting his passion for…anything else but this.

So when he was sixteen and Piper started helping around the house more, Roman decided to use that little free time to secure a job. Maybe the extra income could bring his parents back home to…actually parent their five children. And Roman could move on with his life.

(That's not to say Roman doesn't love his siblings, he does. He would walk to the ends of the earth and back for his siblings. But he can't live like this forever.)

(Is he even living?)

Somehow, Roman found himself in the black markets of Nine. He didn't know it existed until he accidentally stumbled through it one particular night. And it just so happened that night was a particularly rowdy one on the streets.

He didn't understand what he stumbled across right away. A circle of people from all parts of the district gathered around two individuals, bloodied and bruised, throwing punches until one collapsed to the ground.

Roman didn't get it at first, but all he knew was that it exhilarated him. The flame ached inside him and he knew he was where he needed to be. Especially when he found out the winners of the fight earned money for their efforts.

The Peacekeepers even had their chips in the game. Not that there was anything legal about this ring. But it was left alone by the authorities.

In the first fight Roman entered in, he was knocked straight on his ass and left with a bloodied nose and bruised eye to remind him. The second was the same thing. Not a single bet was made in his favor.

But he preserved. He watched others. He learned, and soon, he landed a punch of his own. Then another. And another.

In his first win, he didn't win any money due to his poor record. But the second, third, and fourth win? Roman started making a name for himself. And decent cash to support it, too.

His siblings hated whatever he was occupying his time with, as it seemed he returned home with a new injury and pain in a new area he never knew could feel pain. But his parents didn't even notice. They'd have to be home to notice.

With the money he now had, he thought they would. But they never did. And it left Roman wondering if they ever wanted to stop. He thinks about the kids he grew up with, none were wealthier than him. Many of their families were as large as the Euroka family. But none of their kids had to work themselves to death caring for their siblings. None of them went days without seeing the parents that were supposedly active in their lives.

(So what made Roman so insignificant in the eyes of Veronica and Zeke Euroka?)

6 months before the reapings

Roman's body ached as he moved around his bedroom, preparing for the day ahead of him. Although it was a school day, he didn't intend to attend with his siblings. Not on fight day.

Roman had made a bit of a name for himself in the fighting ring. He won more fights than he lost. Expectations were high for him, and so were the earnings.

Although the extra money didn't bring his parents home, it allowed him to stop taking out tesserae after fifteen, and it offered his siblings some sort of protection from that fate as well.

Even if it didn't he would never, ever, let any of them put their names into the reapings any more than legally required of them. No, none of Roman's siblings would ever face the horror of the Hunger Games if Roman had anything to say about it.

But the reapings were still six months away, so Roman suppressed his fears for the time being. Instead, he joined his brothers and sisters in the kitchen.

"I made eggs and toast," Piper said standing over the stove burner. Ermias stood on the other side of her, spreading the jam onto two pieces.

"Good morning!" Moss jumped out of the chair and rushed towards Roman for a hug.

"Hey, little guy." Roman picked him up and spun him around and Moss laughed and laughed.

He put his little brother down and took a seat next to Colette, who was playing with a piece of toast.

"You don't like it?" Roman poked the toast with his fork and Colette weakly smiled.

"No, I do…" Colette's soft tone was typical of her. Roman stabbed the toast with his fork and took a big bite out of it.

"Dad, stop!" Moss yelled. Roman put the toast back on Colette's plate, a stupid grin plastered on his face, but he caught a brief smile from her. And that's all Roman cared about.

"Moss! He's not our dad!" Piper had to remind the youngest Euroka child. Roman hadn't even caught it when he said it.

Just another day, he reminded himself.

"Okay, finish up. School won't wait for you," Roman told his siblings as he started to clean up. He's gotten it down to a science, having done it for so many years previously. So much so that by the time everyone was ready to walk out the door, they were able to get to their destination on time.

As he planned, he dropped off his kids at school before he made his way to the fight site. It was an important fight today, with a lot of money on the line. He had been training for weeks for this particular opponent, one might consider it a rematch from when he knocked him on his ass all those years ago.

Roman thought the guy must've gotten cocky, ignorant of the leaps and bounds Roman had made to his own skills. Not that Roman was any sort of prodigy, but he had no reason not to be proud of the work he put into what he has accomplished.

So when he arrived at the fighting ring and was greeted with a smirk on his opponent's face, Roman had a feeling he would be okay.

And when he came home with an envelope filled with cash and only a few new bruises, Roman couldn't help but feel proud.

Reagan la Fey, 17, District 11

Childhood…

Once upon a time, on the outskirts of District Eleven, were two wives madly in love. Tammy and Diane la Fey had what most couples could only dream of: unwavering affection for one another. As the years went on, their affection for one another never died. They grew together, built their home together, and everything was perfect. Almost everything.

A child. Tammy and Diane wanted one so badly. District Eleven was notorious for its strict adoption policies, and those with large farmlands were prioritized. As hard as they tried, the la Fey gardens were hardly impressive compared to large estates like the nearby Ire Estate. Years passed, and their dreams of adoption started to wither out. Until things changed, and when they brought Reagan home, they were overjoyed.

But as it were, bad luck continued to plague the la Feys. A few weeks after Reagan came home, Diane fell ill. It wasn't serious at first, and the wives ensured Reagan stayed healthy until the illness passed. But it never passed.

As Diane fell more and more ill, Tammy was more and more fearful. She couldn't bear the thought of losing one of the most important people in her life. She was going to do whatever it took to get her healthy.

Tammy knew a few things. The first was that the land that surrounded them was owned by the rich and powerful Ire family. The second was that the Ire Estate had one of the largest private gardens in the district. And the third was that within that garden were expensive and rare medicinal herbs.

What Tammy didn't know was that Isabella Ire had not gained her notoriety through generous handouts. So when Tammy la Fey went to her front door and begged for just a few herbs to bring back to her sick wife, she was denied. But she didn't go home empty-handed.

(Even if Tammy could have gone back to change her actions, she wouldn't. Diane's life was worth every sacrifice.)

So as Reagan grew up, she grew up with only one mother. Her lost mother was still around though, Diane made sure of that. She was around in the pictures that decorated the halls of their small home. She was a character in the fairytales Diane told her daughter at night. Reagan knew everything about her, except what had happened to her.

3 years ago

Reagan woke up wrapped in the arms of Diane la Fey. The air was extra frigid that evening, and their layers of ratted blankets had barely done the job. Her face was freezing, and when she exhaled she could see her breath.

She did her best to not wake up her mother as she pulled herself out of the bed. She put an oversized sweatshirt on top of her sleep clothes before she moved into the kitchen. As she looked out the window, she could see the snow falling on the ground around her home.

At least it's not any colder outside than it is inside. Reagan dressed in her heavy winter coat, paired with snow boots and gloves and ventured outside. Normally, with a temperature this low, Reagan would have preferred to stay inside with her mother. But with her mother asleep, and every other neighbor likely staying inside, Reagan knew this would be her only chance to get close to the Ire estate.

Reagan grew up with limited rules, but there was one her mother stood by: stay away from that estate. But Reagan could never get a straight answer as to why. So naturally, she was curious about it.

Diane wasn't the only one to give Reagan those warnings. Her neighbors and close friends had done the same.

"My mom told me they are meaner than the Peacekeepers," Jinny, Regan's neighbor, had told her once.

"I saw Isabelle kicking a worker because they were moving too slow," Paula, another childhood friend, had said once.

"I see her granddaughter sometimes. She looks sad," Olive had told Reagan on multiple occasions.

Reagan had heard these whisperings grow over the years, and she decided it was time to decide for herself what the deal was at the Ire Estate.

Moving through the forest, she closed in on the back of the estate. Coming up to the edge of the fence that holds a beautiful garden, she had no idea the manor would look so much bigger this close. She didn't think it could look any bigger.

"Can I help you?" A voice makes Reagan jump back nearly a foot. She looked around the garden and at the stranger who was sitting on a swing in the middle of the garden. The girl waved.

"No, no. I was just…"

"You were just…?" The girl, who was the same age as Reagan, jumped down from the swing and walked over to Reagan. Standing with the fence separating the two of them, Reagan was speechless.

"I was just looking. I'm sorry." Reagan started to pull away from the fence, but the strange girl stopped her.

"No. I'm sorry, I…I don't meet new people often," her eyes drifted over to the main home of the estate.

Regan felt something light up inside of her. An understanding. A desire to help the girl, a girl who only knew this one place.

"Reagan la Fey." Reagan held her hand out and the girl took it.

"Sally Ire." Sally pulled her hand away from Reagan and the two stood awkwardly as silence filled the air.

"Let me show you around since you put so much effort into just looking." Sally opened the fence gate for Reagan and Reagan entered the Ire property for the first time, but certainly not the last.

(And certainly not the first time a la Fey had been on that property.)

6 months ago

As the years passed, Reagan and Sally's friendship grew. Reagan nor Sally made their friendship public, but as always, rumors spread throughout the community. It didn't bother Reagan, it wasn't illegal to make friends, but Reagan could see how nervous it made Sally, so she did her the courtesy of being subtle about it.

Every Sunday, when Diane would sleep in, Reagan would wake up early to spend time with Sally at the estate. Sally would show her around the outskirts of the manor, or Reagan would show Sally around the edges of the forest, and they would just talk for hours and hours. Sometimes, Sally would bring Reagan some candy as a gift. Reagan never had any gifts to reciprocate, but Sally insisted it was fine. She had all the physical possessions she would ever need.

The two were happy. Reagan knew she was. She even felt…more than just happy. Feelings she couldn't put a name to, not for some time at least. And even when she could, she wouldn't verbalize them. Sally wouldn't feel the same way about her. What did Reagan have that Sally didn't?

Besides, Reagan got the sense that Isabelle Ire was very unhappy at the company her granddaughter was keeping. And Reagan knows her own mother was just as unhappy. But Reagan could never figure out why.

"The Ire's are dangerous. I don't want you near them," Diane would repeat to her daughter.

"Sally's not dangerous. She's lonely. She needs somebody," Reagan tried to explain to her mother.

"She's an Ire. She has more power than the damn mayor. I refuse to let you get hurt." Diane would repeat this to Reagan time and time again, but nothing would keep the young girl away.

But the la Fey's have never had good things stay good, and as it were, District Eleven fell into a famine. A particularly long and harsh winter had swept through that year and resources were tight. Food shortages were not uncommon, and the la Fey's were used to rationing. But this famine was particularly brutal and lengthy, and the women were still expected to produce as much harvest as they had in previous years.

And much to Diane's ignorance, her illness had never fully subsided. It had only hibernated, waiting for the right moment to strike again. And as Diane worked long and hard hours to try and meet the unrealistic demands of the District, her body weakened.

With Diane bedridden, Reagan was fearful. Fearful for her mother's life, and her own. She had never been this hungry, ever. But worst of all, she had never been this afraid.

So she ran to her friend and begged and pleaded for some extra crops. The Ire estate had not struggled to produce crops like the la Fey's farm had. But Sally couldn't.

"Grandma doesn't do handouts," she tried to explain to Reagan. But Reagan's thoughts were scattered and her logic wasn't sound.

"She wouldn't notice. Please, just let me take something," Reagan pleaded again, tears decorating her eyes.

"Reagan, please. She's so strict to thieves…" Sally's words made no impact on Reagan. And when Reagan left her friend, Sally knew trouble was coming.

And she was right. That same time next week, the Ire garden was slightly thinner of its potatoes and corn. Anyone else probably wouldn't have noticed the missing harvest. But Isabelle Ire didn't create her empire by being like everyone else.

Reagan didn't realize how much of a mistake she made until Sally was at her front door begging her to return the harvest. Reagan wouldn't.

"Reagan, your family is in danger," Sally's voice cracked.

"Yes, we're in danger of starving," Reagan snapped back.

"Reagan…" Sally started, but Reagan interrupted her.

"Why do you let her control you so much? Why do you give them that much power? You're your own person! Start using your life for yourself," Reagan didn't think her words would have any effect on her friend. But she could see her friend's face trying to rationalize all the thoughts rattling through her brain.

Not another word was shared as Sally returned to her estate. The girls didn't see each other for some time. Reagan started to think they would make it through this. Then, Isabelle Ire was at Reagan's front door.

"Stay away from my house. Stay away from my crops. And stay away from Sally. Unless you want to join your mother in the dirt."

Reagan was speechless. She didn't know what it meant. But Reagan la Fey was a smart girl, and suddenly, all of the pieces fell into place, answering so many of her questions.

Unfortunately, Reagan la Fey's fear of losing her mother was stronger than the fear of losing her own life. And so she returned to the Ire estate.

How she wished she didn't.

Happy Sunday! Today I bring you three more happy children. Tamin was sent in by SonofArryn, Roman was sent in by illegalcryptid, and Reagan was sent in by HumanWiki! I hope you all enjoyed meeting them as much as I enjoyed writing them.

And thank you to everyone who gave me feedback on the last chapter, whether it was in reviews or on Discord I really appreciate it. And a big thank you to Nautics for beta'ing!

Up next: Ronan, Caliadne, and Eleanora.

Love y'all

~Moose