Drone Othmar- District Eight (18)
Life isn't always bad in Panem. Back in Eight, my parents were both teachers, and I had plenty to eat and a comfortable house. I had a hot girlfriend and lots of friends. With my good looks and athletic ability, I was the most popular kid in school. Whether we were staging an impromptu soccer game or arm wrestling at lunch, I was always on top. A lot of good it did me now, wallowing in mud that split my skin and plastered my thick hair to my face.
None of us had ever seen an Arena like this. There were no trees, no buildings, no rocks... just mud. Thick, gloppy mud we sank into up to our knees. Ten of us died at the Bloodbath, unable to run away from the Careers who came after us. I only lived by diving under the surface and clawing through the muck like a frog. The Gamemakers must have known what they needed for a good show, because I'd seen dozens of parachutes that had to be carrying food. The constant rain provided clean water. I kept my head low and watched for other Tributes.
I never knew three days could break someone so much. At home, I was the man. I was the one who was going to grow up and play sports in the Capitol, the one who would marry his smoking hot girlfriend and have it all. Now I was the one shivering and sniffling in the mud, waiting for the Careers to find me.
"Psst!"
I peeked up and saw a muddy head emerge from the muck twenty feet ahead of me. It looked like a boy, but I couldn't be sure. "Hey, someone there?" It whispered. I started at the noise and looked around to see if the Careers were coming.
"Go away," I hissed. The boy crawled closer and held out a parachute.
"I got some corn cakes. Want to share?" he asked, far too loudly. Panic welled in me and I tried to wave him away. They'd come for us and he'd get us both killed.
"It's okay," he said. Something flickered in the corners of my vision and I shoved him down next to me.
"Shut up! Just shut up!" I whispered as I shoved him under the surface to cut off his babble. He started to squirm and I pushed him further down. He kept making noise and I cried in terror until he finally stopped. A cannon went off.
"See, they're right next to us," I whispered. The boy lay facedown in the mud and bobbed up lazily. Everything went cold when I realized the truth. I knew nothing would ever be the same for me, and a sharp coldness pierced my soul. The Careers weren't the murderers. I was.
I gave Drone a last name in one of my fics, but for the life of me I can't find it. If anyone happens to remember, tell me and I'll change it back. For appearance, I always imagined Drone older than he would logically be. He looked like a broken middle-aged man. I imagined him white, but with darker skin, like an Egyptian.