Mars Ingalls- District Eleven, age seventeen
I never wanted this. Life was hard in Eleven, but it was home. I loved the open air and the smell of the fruit. I even liked the work. For a big guy like me, it wasn't hard. I used to stay out past my shift so I could help the weaker workers reach their quotas. I liked Eleven, and Eleven liked me.
This Arena was nothing like home. Instead of sunlight, there was only the darkness of the empty mine shafts. The air was stale and dusty. When the Bloodbath started, the screams echoed off the dirt walls and chased after me, no matter how far I ran. The Cornucopia was in an elevator for this Games. When the faster Tributes started piling in, the rope snapped and half of us were gone in an instant. The sound of impact shook the whole Arena.
I was used to sleeping with my brothers squished in next to me. I wished I had an ally with me, but they were all scared of me. I laid down by one of the tiny bulbs that studded the walls, providing just enough light to see. I don't think I got any sleep.
My first kill was an accident. I heard a scream and ran to help. One of the surviving Careers was stabbing a little girl and laughing while she tried to flee. I grabbed him by the collar and threw him back. He must have hit something on the way down, since he didn't get up. I was too late, anyway. The girl was dead before I bent over her.
Every cannon sent clouds of dust through the air. My lungs burned and my eyes stung with the darkness. Why would they do this to us? I didn't even make any trouble. I did all their work. I just wanted to go home.
The Gamemakers never interrupted the Games, but this time they announced a "feast". I didn't want to find out what they'd do if I didn't go. As I made my way down the tunnels, I heard two cannons. There were only four of us left. The others must have gotten there before me.
It was easy to find the feast cavern, since I could see the light from aways off. I ducked inside and saw two Tributes lying on the ground, one with a sword in his chest and another with a knife in her forehead. The final Tribute was bent over a bowl of fruit. I cautiously approached the table. The Tribute heard me and looked up, and I nearly threw up. His skin was peeling off, leaving oozing tissue behind. Blood and fluid streamed from his mouth. He tried to stand up and fell to the ground, flopping spastically and clutching at his knife.
I shook with horror and tears as I bent over him. He spat up a clot of something red and yellow, groaning horribly. I didn't want to leave him, but there was nothing I could do. He looked up at me with an expression that tore my heart out. It looked like he was pleading.
"What do you want?" I asked. It hit me, and I started to sob. "No, I can't," I said. The boy convulsed. He tried to scream, but only blood came out.
"Don't make me, please," I said. I knew there was no other way. Why? Why does either choice make me a monster? Let me pick the crops and feel the sun on my back. Don't send me here. I cried like a baby as I did what I had to. I wrapped my arm around his neck, closed my eyes, and felt the bones crunch under my grip. I never wanted this.
Mars is dark-skinned, like most people in Eleven. He has Thresh's body type, but he's much gentler-looking, sort of like John Coffey from The Green Mile.