Bitsy Flavis, 16, District Twelve female

"She shouldn't have died!"

It would all come full circle.

It was just the way it had to be for her.

What would be the moment that put her in the spotlight would be the moment that would eventually lead her to where she was at that moment.

Trying to fight for her life.

Trying to make it home alive and safe.

As much as she didn't want to kill anyone, it was killed or be killed in the Games. No way around it. But she would struggle with the fact.

She grew up in the poorest part of District Twelve but it was all she knew and she was grateful to even have a family that loved her. Bitsy was selfless, and she often would throw herself into dangerous situations if it meant helping other people that needed it. More often than not, with the little food she did have she would always find someone that needed it more to give to.

She was just that person.

And she felt good to be able to help others even if it meant not taking as much care of herself as she should have.

Her father often chided her about that.

Most of the time she ignored it.

Life was normal growing up. She woke up, helped around the house, went to work in town at a stall selling various things and then came home.

Day in and day out the same routine.

She found herself longing for more.

And then it found her more so.

She had been heading home from another day at work when she started to feel small vibrations on the ground. Growing more concerned as they grew bigger, she knew what it was. The Mines! She rushed off in the direction and got to the mine shaft when it collapsed, sending coal dust amongst other things out to the surface. Without thinking, she went into the rubble and along with a few men, started to pull the workers out.

They got all but one.

And it was something that still haunted her to that day.

She was hailed as a hero and given recognition by the District. She didn't deserve it. Maybe if she had gotten everyone out alive she would have loved it. But she didn't. Someone still died. Something she still regretted each and every single day.

The years passed and she put the event behind her, shoving it in the back of her mind. Instead she focused on being a person that people could look up to. Bitsy continued to give food to others as much as she could and started to help teach the young kids that needed help with anything.

The morning of the reaping saw her back in town, helping share food around to those who were out and about in the early morning. It was nice to be that person for some of them. It made her happy. The sun was starting to move in the sky as she handed out the last item she had before she made her way back home. Her father and mother were in the kitchen, grain on the fire to cook as she made her way in. Her sister was sitting at the table already dressed.

"Everything go okay?" Her father asked her.

"Yeah, not a lot of people out. Most are probably sleeping in."

"Seems like it. Food should be done in a bit. Best go wash up before."

With a nod, she headed to the small room that acted as a bathroom, the tub already full with hot water. Undressing quickly, she got in and grabbed the small cup. Bathing was quick and she grabbed the well worn towel and wrapped it around her as she moved to her room. Her outfit was where she left it the night before, the simple white blouse and a black skirt. Drying her hair the best that she could, she braided it down her back, making sure no hair was out of place.

Bitsy went back to the kitchen, her bowl on the counter. They ate in silence, watching out the window as people started to head out for the reaping. The grain was tasteless but she knew that she needed something in her for the morning. After washing the bowls and setting them aside to dry, they left the house. Bitsy grabbed her shoes and put them outside and she and her father made the short distance to the square. The air was warm and breezy and she smiled and let herself relax.

Being nervous wouldn't do her any good.

Besides, what were the chances of it being her that year.

Her sister's hand tightened on her and she squeezed it.

"It'll be okay. Don't worry." She reassured, sending her sister a smile as they got in line to check in. After making sure her sister was with her small group of friends she found her own. Natalia and Lauren were her close friends and she got into a row with Natalia.

"It'll be okay right?" Natalia spoke, anxiety laced in her words.

"It will be. Our chances are slim to none. Surely they've picked someone who actually holds a chance at making it out of the bloodbath."

"Imagine if it's one of us though."

"Well, if it is, we give it our best chance."

With a screech, she saw the escort, Flava tapping on the mic. His smile was big and he eagerly greeted the crowd that had gathered. Ignoring him and the video, she watched as he eagerly grabbed the single slip in the female bowl and read the name out.

"Bitsy Flavis!"

Shit, was this about the mining incident? Surely that had to be what it was. There was no other reason to target her. Why her?

Letting out a breath, she held her head up and made her way to the poorly made stage.

"Orpheus Rashomon" was the male tribute that was named and she watched as he took the stage. He was someone she had seen around here and there but never interacted with. With a breath, she shook his hand.

Her last thought before being taken away was how in the hell she was going to come out of this alive.

Orpheus Rashomon, 16, District Twelve Male.

"Those who desire death have an equal desire to die."

Anger.

An emotion that was well known by Orpheus Rashomon. He liked to recall it as being angry at the world, all the time. The jaded exhaustion that comes with throwing all your energy towards a point with the singular desire to hurt, only for that energy to be swallowed up, with no sign of the effort being rewarded.

That was him alright.

Fighting to live each day and to find something that resembled recognition in the world.

Each time he came up short.

Each time left him wanting more.

Normal people would acknowledge that desire and the trauma behind it, and would make something of an attempt to move on.

But not him.

He stayed the same. Only making his grave deeper each time. He wanted to make his mentor happy, he wanted his approval in what he did. Even if it meant going through all the pain and suffering that he had, just to get something of a praise from the man.

But his quest for making something for himself wasn't always a good one. His mindset adapted over the years to survival of the fittest and he was going to do anything to do to live another day. Though that did mean he had moments of lashing out in sheer anger, no thoughts behind it.

Kill or be killed.

It was something that he knew all too well, and something that would rear its head in three weeks time.

Another chance for approval.

Another chance for fame and glory.

And he would do anything to get it.

Even if it meant losing himself to the madness that lurked within him,

He knew why he wanted to make something useful in his life. Perhaps it stemmed from the fact that he grew up an orphan. Or maybe the fact that he lives in the worst part of the district having to do whatever it took to survive.

Through the sickness and everything that occured, he started to steal from unsuspecting people. He was only eight years old. The rational part of him knew that he shouldn't have to resort to it but it was just the world he lived in.

It all came to a stop the night he attempted to pick the pocket of the one person he should not have.

Ithax Amuso.

The man, having caught the boy in the act, offered him the choice of killing him on the spot or to join him. He would teach Orpheus how to survive. Further insight revealed that he had his eye on the young boy for a while at that point, and thought his talents that he possessed,would be better put to work with what he did rather than him staying on the streets.

He agreed.

His prized possession was the red scarf that had been given to him that night. It held value to him and reminded him how grateful he should be that he was still alive.

Over the years he learned more about his mentor. Ithax turned out to be a coal smuggler, amongst other things. He would steal coal from the storage carts outside the mines in the dead of night and then sell or trade it to those affiliated with the not-gang for profit. Murder was on the list of things as well, and soon it became Orpheus' as well. Over the years he was well trained with a knife and how to defend himself against others if needed.

Something that would come in handy.

Though how he was trained could be seen as…. questionable.

Ithax was a hands-on teacher so to speak. He would beat Orpheus up until he learned. If he failed on a smuggling job it would result in a punishment and belittling by his mentor. He learned quickly to tune out when that happened but the words still sunk into his mind.

Maybe the Games would be his escape.

That was the first thought he had that morning of the reaping as he awoke on his own for once. Ithax was kind enough to let him have the morning off and by that evening he would be back on the job. Letting out a breath, he pushed himself up right, running a hand through his hair and then his face.

Another reaping.

Another day that could end with him being reaped and sent into the Games. His body ached deeply and he let out another breath as he pushed himself out of bed. A knock on the door and a "you better be ready in ten minutes." was all the warning he got.

Ten minutes.

It only took Orpheus five.

After splashing his face with water and wiping away the dirt that gathered there, he pulled on the slightly too big shirt and pants. The belt had to have another notch put into it to be able to keep his pants on his body. No food awaited him as he went to the kitchen, sliding his feet into a pair of shoes kept by the door.

Usually how it went.

Ithax barely gave him a glance before the left. The two joined the few stragglers that were just leaving for the center of town. Feet slapped against the ground as he moved to one of the smaller check in lines, not letting emotion on his face as his finger was pricked with the needles and as the blood drop was scanned.

Joining the group of sixteen year olds as they got into the last row available, he glanced around. Mixed emotions were showing. Some were scared, others anxious. There were some that like Orpheus were showing nothing. Their faces are blank and void of emotion.

Either he was picked or he wasn't.

It was as simple as that.

With an ear deafening screech he could see the escort, Flava tapping on the mic. His smile was big and he eagerly greeted the crowd that had gathered. He waited patiently as the video played like it did every year and as the female's name was drawn. Orpheus knew her. Not personally of course but everyone knew who she was. She had been the one that jumped into the mines to save those trapped a few years back.

A stupid yet heroic thing.

But, he could see why she did it.

And then, "Orpheus Rashomon" was spoken.

Him.

First feeling that came to him was anger. He couldn't understand why someone like him had been targeted and picked.

What good could come out of this.

Schooling his face back to blank and unreadable, he climbed the stage and kept his grip strong as he shook the girl's hand.

Kill or be killed indeed.

And here are Bitsy and Orpheus. I hope you all enjoyed them like i did. Many thanks to KristyKLee and Antlered-Dice for Bitsy and Orpheus respectfully. I have a soft spot for the outer districts so they were a joy to write.

As always, leave thoughts in the reviews!

Next Chapter; District Four.

Nova xx