District 11 Reapings

TW: This chapter contains mentions of self-harm, depression and sexual harassment.

P.S. Just a heads up, the beliefs shared here are that of the characters, not mine. I may think completely differently from the characters, and what they perceive may not be what I perceive, I am merely trying to portray them as who they are.

PHOENIX AVENA (17)

DISTRICT ELEVEN MALE

Be reborn like a phoenix, get yourself a fresh start.

It was what Phoenix told himself every single day, to try and motivate him into making the right decisions.

But today was a different day, it was the Reapings, and Phoenix was well aware that his fate was not exactly in his hands. No matter what decisions he made, it would not change the outcome that would be dealt upon him should the escort pull his name out of the bowl.

Whatever, he thought, brushing the Reapings out of his mind. There's no point stressing about it now, it won't solve anything.

He groggily sat up, yawning as he rubbed the sleep out of his eyes, the long nights plagued by nightmares having taken their toll on him.

It's my fault I'm even having these nightmares, he thought glumly to himself. They were based on my past, my wrong moves. It only served as a bigger motivation for him to change his ways, so he could finally get himself some quality sleep. After all, farm work wasn't exactly a very relaxing task, and he needed that extra bit of sleep to energise him throughout the long day ahead, lest he be caught slacking on the job and receive a brutal punishment.

There wouldn't be any farm work today, though, at least not until the afternoon. He got up, stumbling a little as he narrowed his eyelids, trying to block out the sudden streak of daylight flashing right into his eyes. He turned his neck and gazed at his little brother, Vitis, his small, bony frame curling up contentedly underneath a thin sheet of blanket, a soft snore sweeping through the cool morning air. Phoenix bent down gingerly, and nudged the sleeping child. "Hey, Vit," he whispered softly. He could never be even remotely rough towards Vitis, that would mean that he had broken the long vow he had taken a year ago.

The vow to change for the better.

Vitis rolled a little, his face scrunching up in annoyance. He pursed his lips as he stretched his arms, his mouth opening wide to allow a low yawn to blare out. "Do I have to?" he murmured, his voice still dripping with sleepiness.

Phoenix nodded. "I'm afraid so, little buddy. Come on, you wanna see your friends before the Reaping, right?" He flashed him a warm, gentle smile, one that was a pretty rare sight when he wasn't around his family.

But his insides were crunching together, a low growl churning in the barren chambers of his stomach.

Friends.

Just the mention of that word stung Phoenix's heart. Friends, a precious commodity he had long desired for, but had never gotten.

Friends, the source of support he had so desperately needed through his darkest days, one that had ceased to exist all his life.

Friends, the loving and tender care he knew he would never receive.

All because of the rumours of the past.

Vitis sighed. "Oh alright," he muttered. With that, Phoenix helped Vitis up to his feet and the pair marched into the kitchen for breakfast, their footsteps creaking as they made their way across the loose, old wooden planks of the shack that they resided in. As expected, there was nothing on their dining table, since their dad was busy working overtime at the Awoniyi Potato Farm and their mother, well…

His face hardened just at the thought of the woman who claimed to be his mother. Vivi Avena, just the image of her stern brown eyes, radiating an aura of strictness and order, it made Phoenix clench his teeth. That lazy brat who never even broke a sweat to try and help their family, instead piling on more and more financial burden on Phoenix's father and the two brothers as they struggled with their meagre income. Her outlandish spending had gotten them into trouble for an umpteen number of times, a testament to the troublemaker she was.

And she had never cared for her children either, constantly demanding them to work and work and never once showing even a tiny ounce of love towards them, sometimes even beating them up to do her petty bidding from the day they could walk.

If she could just soften that rock of a heart in her chest, maybe their family could get out of poverty, and could live an actually decent lifestyle. But no, she refused to work, firmly sealing her place in the household as the freeloader matriarch, the detestable queen of the 'castle', by blackmailing the man she claimed to love more than anything else in the world with a secret that would break him apart.

A crime he had committed as a young teenager, being part of a large-scale theft at the house of Edna Younghood, the Head Peacekeeper at the time.

As Phoenix took out a rusty old pot and lit a fire to cook, a skill he had taught himself in order to help the family for a change, those thoughts of one day clinching sweet revenge against her dominance swirled across his head.

He jerked his head to the side, biting his tongue. No, this was not right, by no means the right thing to do. Seeking revenge was what past Phoenix would have done, but no, this new Phoenix, he would not even come close to doing such a thing.

He finished cooking and grabbed a couple of bowls that he had crafted out of some wood that he had managed to collect, and poured the piping hot broth he had prepared into the bowls, before handing one to Vitis, who snatched the bowl eagerly, his eyes widening in delight at the sight of the chopped garlic swirling within the soupy liquid. Breakfast was a rare luxury for them, one they could only afford to have once a week, and they only just had their weekly breakfast yesterday.

But on Reaping Day, exceptions were allowed to be made.

As Phoenix quietly sipped his soup, the rather bland liquid running down his throat, he caught a glimpse of a tiny, brown mouse scampering across the wooden planks of the floor, stumbling over a loose nail as it made a beeline for the front door. Phoenix pursed his lips, trying to keep his emotions in check in front of his brother.

But the mouse made it impossible to block out the block of memories that slammed into his face like a hard punch from a fighter.

A brown mouse, the critter he had been accused of stuffing into the shirt of Hanna Pullman, the girl a good five years older than him who he had dated for six weeks back when he was fifteen.

People found it disgusting, his giddy attraction towards older women, and all the flirtatious means of grabbing their attention that he had employed in a rejected past.

And all those allegations of abuse and rape were even worse.

But none of it was true, he had never assaulted a woman before, at least he didn't think he had. The true definitions of assault and harassment had never been engraved into his head. In his mind, the worst crime he had committed in this bizarre pursuit of affection from these often rather unimpressed older women, was possibly the glowing aura of awkwardness that he carried whenever he tried to flirt with someone. The edgy jokes he had assumed would be funny, the weird laughter at their jokes, the loud shouting when he got even a little bit agitated, the tavern visits with his dates even when he was underage, it all fuelled a slew of accusations from the grossed-out townsfolk of Atlanta. The whispers of the horrific acts he apparently committed behind the scenes, as well as several false confessions from the older girls that he dated, the girls crumbling under the peer pressure that society placed upon them to testify against him, all of those things had plummeted his reputation way beneath rock bottom.

But to be fair, he knew he shouldn't have been so reckless, shouldn't have dated his Mathematics teacher, shouldn't have neglected Vitis in favour of going out with a different woman every other night doing some rather shady stuff.

Which was why he vowed to change for the better.

Once both boys had finished their breakfast, Vitis was off to meet up with his friends over on the banks of Proctor Creek. Phoenix was highly suspicious of a couple of the people Vitis hung out with. Some of those kids were the children of thieves, robbers, criminals, Phoenix was concerned about the influence they could potentially have on his sweet, innocent little brother.

In the past, he would have intervened, snarled and driven them all away from Vitis.

But that approach had only depleted Vitis's friend circle.

The memory of Vitis screaming at him, blaming him for driving away a boy, one Vitis had apparently developed a huge crush on, and one who hadn't been on Phoenix's good books, to say the least, that horrific memory throbbed and ached in his head, squeezing the energy out of his brain. It had only taken a bad beating and some menacing threats before the boy vanished from their lives, never to be seen again, an incident that had shattered Vitis's heart.

He wouldn't repeat the same mistake again, not when Vitis was overjoyed with the friends he currently had.

Once Vitis was gone, heading for the old boathouse, nicknamed 'The Chicken' for its odd, crumbling shape and quirky colour, Phoenix marched back to his room, ready to do some reading for once, a pastime he had meant to pick up in order to spend his free time doing productive activities instead of being the old, shameless flirt that he once was. Back then, Phoenix had completely disregarded his schoolings, ripping apart every book he came across.

But this was the present. He scooped up a dusty old book, one that he and one of his more rebellious ex-girlfriends, a member of that elusive group the Masked Merchants, had stolen from the nearby Harod's Library, the largest library in District Eleven with a brilliant blue facade and schools of fish swimming around in glass tanks around endless rows of bookshelves. According to the Masked Merchants, newly recovered records showed that the library had once been an aquarium, where exotic beasts that were incomprehensible to the general populace of District Eleven roamed and thrived for all the world to gawk at.

Whatever, the library was a much more practical use of this building, in Phoenix's opinion. He might sound like a hypocrite for saying it, but reading was of huge importance to a person's life. That was the mentality he had adopted anyway. This book was written by a Capitolite, Louie Amora, who, according to a Masked Merchant from Three, was the brother of Willuna Amora, the escort for District Four. He had recently been executed for murdering his sister's husband Nick, but his books were still by and large extremely popular bestsellers. This was how Phoenix got his information about current affairs, through word of mouth from Masked Merchants who hailed from elsewhere, since everyone in Atlanta had grown to resent him for the acts he had committed, and those he had been accused of committing.

Not that he particularly minded, some of these Masked Merchants were much nicer than anyone in Atlanta, especially that middle-aged woman, Silver Faleoloa, a prominent merchant from District One who Phoenix had grown fond of due to her witty sense of humour and kindness towards his family, graciously donating to aid them every time she could.

Just then, he heard a quiet knock on the door, followed by the muffled voice of a woman calling out his name. Frowning, he put the book back onto his desk, slowly getting to his feet as he gazed ahead, a puzzled look glimmering in his eyes as he took cautious steps forward.

Everyone here hates me, he wondered as the knocking grew louder. So who could it possibly be?

He unhinged the bolt on the door, and pushed the door open. Whoever it was, he knew that he simply had to act nice, in order to rebuild his shattered reputation and fulfil his vow to change from the boy who screamed at everyone at Kyrene's Candy Store in a fit of rage after a rough breakup.

But when he did see the figure standing on the threshold, fiddling nervously with her jacket, his jaw unhinged and dropped so low it could almost touch his chest.

"Y-you?"

Moving on was so much harder than he could have possibly imagined.

WISTERIA AMBROSE (15)

DISTRICT ELEVEN FEMALE

There was hardly a point in life.

Wisteria sighed as she rolled on her old, moth-eaten mattress, before proceeding to stare up at the shabby, worn-out wooden ceiling right above her. She didn't quite know what the time was, and didn't want to check the only clock in her house, for fear of waking up her family on her journey to the living room. It was possibly around four in the morning, as the sky outside was still dark, but she could faintly hear the sound of that old woman Mea Kanu belting out another one of her poetic hymns as she fed the birds that often flocked to her house, earning it the reputation of being called 'the Birdhouse' by the citizens of Atlanta. She did this ritual every morning, from three to five o'clock, before the break of dawn, an event she would more often than not sleep through.

It was how she kept herself sane day after day.

Wisteria, on the other hand, could barely keep herself from plunging into an eternal darkness. A tear rolled down her cheek as she squeezed her eyes shut, unwilling to sleep, yet unwilling to get out of her bed.

Life was an empty, worthless thing, something Wisteria had long forgotten the true value of.

Because Wisteria knew, deep inside, she was a failure, an utter disappointment, a blight to everyone around her. The people of Atlanta were cursed, cursed with having to deal with the presence of a useless joke of a human being like her, one who couldn't even get herself out of bed in the morning or contribute to society.

Contribute to society.

Wisteria gritted her teeth, thinking about that young girl with a dazzling smile who challenged herself to overcome as many obstacles in life as she could, in her pursuit of contributing as much as she could to society.

It was a relentless pursuit that eventually doomed her, condemned her to a life of abject misery and emptiness.

Not too long ago, just a mere half-century ago, that girl had been her, frolicking happily around the fields with her friends, laughing and smiling as the gentle breeze swept her curly black hair that fluttered freely in the winds.

Right now, she was unrecognisable, a hollow shell of that girl, now reduced to a worthless piece of shit, someone who deserved to die more than anything else, but just couldn't and wouldn't.

Because even though she knew there was no future that awaited her, she still tried, tried, to be of some help for a change. She worked as hard as she could in the fields, working the most hours among any farmer in Atlanta, ignoring the heat strokes, ignoring the aching in her bones, she just worked and worked in the hopes of being able to feed her family, to be less of a hopeless mistake blotted upon their household.

And yet she could never get that satisfaction, never could find that one tiny morsel of happiness that she so desperately craved. Deep down she knew that no matter how hard she tried, no matter how hard people tried to convince her otherwise, she was a scourge upon society.

She continued staring at the ceiling, unable to get back to sleep, for fear of the taunting voices that awaited her back in the world where nightmarish horrors ran riot. Those voices, they enslaved her, forced her to bend to their will, tortured her mentally day after day, and she had no choice but to conform to them, without a single clue as to how they even came about in the first place.

You are just a burden to everyone in your life, they sneered as her eyelids betrayed her, closing despite her best efforts to keep them open. Your friends hate you. Your family hate you. You hate you. That's the reality, just end it all, make things nice and easy…

No, I can't do that, Wisteria tried to counter, but her thoughts in her dreams were clouded in a thick veil of fog, unable to process things all too well.

Why not? You have nothing left to fight for anyway, the voices continued to taunt, their tone rising an octave, a hint of wicked amusement in their false voices.

They're not real, Wisteria tried to tell herself. None of this is. You have to stay alive to help others, to work hard in order to make up for being such a worthless brat.

The voices scoffed. You're gonna regret that decision soon, trust us…

Wisteria bit her lip, a bead of sweat trickling down her forehead, before sliding into her closed eyelids and quivering slightly there. It mixed with the tears that soon pushed forth, flowing down her face as she tried halfheartedly to gain control over her emotions that were quickly seizing power over her.

All her years of worthlessness just came at her in one powerful smack of reality.

"I don't deserve to exist…" she muttered softly, as the voices continued to cackle and mock her ruthlessly, enraptured by the tears that showed her inner weakness.

A weakling, that's what she knew she was, and there was nothing she could do about it, except long for the day she could pass on and rid this town of her weak little body.

"I deserve to die…" she choked out, as more red-hot tears ran down her face, each one carving furrows on the tender flesh that still stung from the workplace injuries she had sustained the other day, which were further aggravated by the wild scratches she had made furiously with her long, dirt-stained fingernails.

People told her that self-harm was bad, but it was the only way she could feel anything other than a barren emptiness, even if that feeling was pain.

"Wisteria?" a soft voice echoed through the void of darkness in her hollow mind.

Her eyes fluttered open, still damp from her crying, which only served to blur her vision, making the scene in front of her look nothing more than a fuzzy frame, one she could barely see into.

Just like the methods on how to be less pathetic, I guess, she thought to herself as she lazily rubbed her eyes, revealing her younger sister, Amaryllis. She stood with her back hunched, gazing with a concerned expression towards the scrawny, miserable body of her disappointment of a sister. "Hey, sis, it's time to wake up," she murmured softly, her voice gentle as the morning breeze, carrying a willowy tone that reminded Wisteria painfully of her old self. Her hair was let down, allowed to flow freely in its long, wispy grandeur, a symbol of freedom in a girl who was yet to drown in a world of misery.

Wisteria desperately hoped that her sweet little sister would never go down the same path as her.

"I- I don't wanna-" Wisteria murmured, pulling her tiny blanket over her face, still very much sleepy, but not exactly intending to sleep either.

She just didn't want to face the undoubtedly long day ahead.

"Please, sis," Amaryllis implored, grabbing her by the wrist and tugging gently. "Come on, it's a new challenge. You love challenges, don't you? Well, this day is just another one."

How incredibly brilliant of a girl she was, only thirteen, yet she could coax Wisteria into actually doing productive stuff like getting out of bed.

The fact that her little sister had to babysit her thrust Wisteria into a world of shame, a world where she would prick her legs with pins in order to punish herself for being such a disgraceful example to Amaryllis.

The embarrassment was too much to handle at times.

But nonetheless, that tiny fragment of childish excitement briefly flickered in Wisteria's eyes at the mere mention of a challenge, something she had so loved as a little girl. She had constantly challenged herself to achieve new goals, to help more people, to learn new skills.

And she had never once given a damn about her own mental health, a mistake that would have everlasting implications.

That flicker quickly petered out, the quick, light-hearted jolt of glee fizzing out in her eyes, as the same old familiar melancholy returned to her soul, and her eyes glazed over, the dark emptiness quickly clouding over.

But she was now wide awake, albeit rather begrudgingly so.

Amaryllis pulled Wisteria to her feet, her body oozing with a tremendous amount of strength for such a skinny child. Wisteria stumbled a bit, glancing longingly back at her bed for a brief moment, before Amaryllis snapped her fingers in front of her eyes, getting her attention once more. She blinked as she gazed into her sister's weary eyes, her mind still very much in the world of sleep and nightmares. Amaryllis drew in a deep sigh, her eyes swirling with a sense of dejection, which quickly clouded over with that fiery sense of determination she always seemed to carry around with her. It was reminiscent of their father, who Wisteria rarely spoke to these days, but he was someone who shared a close bond with Amaryllis, and the similarities were incredible, everything from their appearance to the way they carried themselves, they were incredibly alike in all but one aspect.

Their father could not fathom how Wisteria could bury herself in such a deep hole, and never did try to hide his disappointment. He constantly pushed Wisteria to be of more help to the family, constantly tried to put more weight on her shoulders.

Which was exactly why Wisteria liked him, in her eyes he was doing the right thing. In fact, he should burden her even more for being such an utterly useless brat, for being that stupid, dumb kid who never did anything for anyone and was had to resort to hurting herself just to do the simplest task in the world, feel an emotion.

She couldn't even eat breakfast before the damn Reapings, since she always threw up much of her meals, the food tasting like bitter cement in her mouth every time she tried to chew it, the lumps bumbling down her throat making her sicker than ever. She tried, tried her very best to eat under the encouragement of Amaryllis and her best friend Violet, but she could never take more than two, utterly horrible bites of food every day.

The mere sight of people eating unnerved her, sending a bitter taste into her mouth.

After everyone was done eating, it was time to head out for the event all of them, save for Wisteria, dreaded.

The Reapings.

As the family stepped foot into the dusty old streets, the loud sirens of a Peacekeeper truck instantly blared into Wisteria's ears, a sound she was more than used to these days. The peacekeepers on board the dark green truck, a new model sent from District Six apparently, zoomed through the town rowdily, narrowly avoiding screaming civilians who dived out of the way. Among those civilians were Phoenix Avena, that weird, creepy kid who got expelled from her school a while ago, and Ava Sorghum, his Math teacher who had been in an affair with him. An icy shudder ran down her spine as she thought of the day she had walked into them making out in a closet, Ava seemingly quite uncomfortable with the intimacy of the situation. Oh that had not been a great day, but at least Phoenix seemed to be turning over a new leaf, although he did still creep her out. Wisteria shook her head, ignoring their frantic yelps and choosing to focus instead on Amaryllis, who, despite the steely expression on her face, was visibly hiding a look of anxiety. Her arms were shaking slightly, her steely expression quickly melting away as they walked past the Great Barns, only a block away from the Reaping Square. Wisteria walked up to her and clutched Amaryllis's hand tightly, a small, tiny fragment of a smile blossoming on her face.

She had taken out as much tesserae as she could, and planned on volunteering in the unlikely event she wasn't Reaped, so that no girl would have to die in the arena.

It was one final attempt to be of some help to the community.

TRISH MEELEHEIDE (26)

DISTRICT ELEVEN ESCORT

Dear Diary,

I can't even begin to express how tough today was. It was a whole emotional wreck for me, but honestly, what was I expecting? Walking into this job, I knew what I was signing up for.

But it was the only way to provide for myself after my father abandoned me, not like anyone cares, except you, my dear diary. That's why I write to you a lot, you're the only thing that won't judge me. I mean, I'm cool with talking to Dawn or Willuna, but they've been pretty busy lately, wouldn't want to bother them, would I?

I'm getting sidetracked here, ugh, why do I always get sidetracked when I'm writing stuff?

Anyway, this morning I got this weird phone call from an unknown number, and, you know me, phone calls from unknown numbers terrify the hell out of me.
And I was right to be terrified, because Ruby Ashgrove was on the line. Ugh, I hate that lady, she's utterly sinister, I wonder if she even has a heart. Well, according to Willuna, she does, but she only shows it with a select few. Wonder who those lucky peeps are. Ruby started giving her usual briefing about the Reapings in that sly, cruelly formal tone of hers, my palms got sweaty as soon as she muttered her first sentence. Yeah, it's fair to say, she doesn't exactly give off rainbow vibes, does she? Then again, no one does, well, except maybe for that kid-

Wait, damn it, I got sidetracked again, gosh darn it. So, where was I? Oh yeah, Ruby, right, her. Then she began to taunt me about last year, the year this kid I had bonded really closely with got herself brutally murdered in the Bloodbath. The way she talked about it, my goodness, she was so ruthless, so malicious, but then when she actually got to the part about the girl from One ripping poor little Harriet to shreds, she paused and I could've sworn I heard her sniffle and her voice crack. It was oddly strange, and my mind kind of focused on that for the duration of her torturous mockery. Do you by any chance know what's up with her? Did something happen to her? Or- wait, never mind, diaries can't talk. Forget it, now, erm, moving on.

The phone rang again just as soon as I slammed it onto the table, my heart still stirring up one hell of a ruckus in my chest with its loud thumping. Expecting it to be one of her Gamemakers, I picked it up, only to realise that it was just that young strategist Remus Echoën. I don't really talk much with Remus, but from what Oakette has told me, he was born and bred in District Fourteen. In fact, his grandparents, originally hailing from Districts One and Five, were among the first pioneers of Fourteen. That's quite interesting, not gonna lie. Oh, and he's super into strategy and stuff, yeah, I think that part's quite obvious. Anyway, Remus wanted to chat about this top-secret mission I was assigned to complete, involving stealing some critical files from the Peacekeepers, regarding some shady business dealing with underage boys and girls. Ugh, I didn't even want to take a peek at the files, the mere thought of what they could have possibly contained was enough to make me barf.

I told Remus that I had sent them to Dusk two days before, via the underground network of Masked Merchants. Those guys are really cool, you know, going around doing whatever the heck they want right underneath the Capitol's noses, it's incredible that they've managed to come this far. Okay, before I get sidetracked again, back to this. Remus mentioned something about Dusk looking absolutely pale and much unlike herself when they were eating at the Hearth, but just then the bell outside my room rang, signalling that I had to go. I wonder, what could have repulsed Dusk so much? Was it something she had read in the files? I didn't think too much of it, to be completely honest. The Reapings seemed like a more looming affair.

And this is the part you know hurts the most.

I could go on and on about how much I hate the Reapings, but I'm not gonna waste your time. Actually, you're an inanimate object, I'm gonna do it anyway. Nah, I'm so freaking tired, just refer to pages 2, 14, 16, 19. 21 and 35, as well as pages 40 through 67 for all the details, I have written so many rants in this one diary alone. But it's because these Reapings are so inhumane, I can't believe they're allowed to continue. Before I had to go up on stage that darling mayor Maesan Ojo came up to me and wished me luck, and Seeder gave me a hug. I needed both, these Reapings always tore the life out of me. I hate having to don that silly, fake smile every time I hop on stage, it's absolutely ridiculous and I hate it. Ugh, what I would give to be able to play hours on end of tennis just to release all this horrific stress, but alas, there were no tennis courts in Eleven. Oh well, Willuna might step down to flee to Fourteen soon, maybe then I'll get promoted to Four, where tennis courts are abundant. I doubt anyone would want to play with some Capitolite lady, though.

Well this is just great, isn't it? I got sidetracked AGAIN. Okay, no more of this, I promise I'm gonna focus from now on. I did all of the usual Reaping stuff. It feels like a routine these days, one I've perfected after years of practice, but I despise faking those tears of joy during the Treaty of Treason. Ugh, stupid expectations.

Then, it was the big moment. The Reapings. I could see the terror in all of the children's eyes, oh those poor darlings, I just wish I could save them from this monstrous event. But alas, I couldn't, and I pulled out a slip, apologising repeatedly in my head.

It was the one girl who didn't even seem the tiniest bit afraid.

Wisteria, that poor skinny girl with hands covered in cuts, bloodshot eyes and bruises on her kneecaps, she skipped forward with a somewhat delighted look on her face, which was utterly appalling. I couldn't believe my eyes as she grinned at me. In fact, I rubbed my eyes to ensure this wasn't some lucid dream or anything of that sort. I bit my own tongue just to double-check too.

But no, this was all shockingly real, and for a moment, the words were entangled in the roof of my mouth, unable to be blurted out no matter how hard I tried.

Eventually, though, the girl explained that she was more than happy to die, if it meant that she could finally be less of a pathetic wimp who never cared about anyone, to which the audience cried out in protest. Oh, this poor, poor, girl, she needs THERAPY, not a deathmatch, for goodness sake! And yet, this was her fate. No, this won't be it. No, dear diary, you'll be my witness here. I solemnly swear that I WILL do everything in my power to ensure Wisteria doesn't go into the Games as cannon fodder.

I will move heaven and earth to help her out, trust me, I will.

And the same goes for Phoenix, the boy whose name I pulled out. He was fair-skinned and had red hair, not very typical of District Eleven, but that didn't matter to me. Race was never an issue, humans were humans, no matter their skin colour. He looked absolutely livid, a furious cry blurting out of his lips as he balled his fists, a fiery look blazing through his eyes. For a minute I was scared that I'd gotten one of those troublemaker gangster tributes, but no, then, he quickly shook his head, and his expression began to soften, and he looked genuinely scared as he marched up the stage, his hands jammed into his pockets, all the while muttering something about not getting angry in public.

But it was the District's reaction that caught me off guard.

There was a little boy, presumably his brother, who began to wail horribly, breaking down into a heap of desolation on the dirt. I wanted so badly to go up there and give him a big hug, to comfort him, to try and wipe those tears from his eyes, but I couldn't.

And the rest of the District didn't want to do so.

The little boy's sobs were drowned out by the unbelievably tumultuous noise from the crowd as they booed, jeered, snickered, cackled at the young man whose initial anger quickly faded into a look of utter devastation. Poor kid, he looked as though he was on the verge of sobs as the crowd continued to chant and hurl insults at him, something about having an affair? Whatever it was, I wanted so, so badly to give these two a nice, proper hug, which I did the instant we were out of sight of those prying cameras.

Mark my words, District Eleven WILL have a Victor this year, because I WILL do everything I can to help these two out.

Bye for now,

Trish

A/N: What did you think of Phoenix, Wisteria and Trish? Will Trish succeed in helping these two? Did you like the new diary format I introduced in Trish's POV? Leave your answers in the reviews, I love reading all of your lovely reviews xd. And there we have it, sorry for the long wait, life has had quite a bit of an impact on my update speed aha. Thank you to matts0688 for Phoenix and SilverflowerXRavenpaw for Wisteria, these two are great and I'm excited to portray more of them, even if I kinda did screw up a little bit of their portrayal here. Although I must admit, Wisteria's POV took me four days to write, especially the breakfast scene, oh that was horribly tough for me to write for personal reasons. But I would like to give a special shoutout to Marie464, my twin, and Rune Whisperer, my internet older sis, who both DMed me on Discord to check up on me when I was feeling low and without them and the help of many other friends on Discord, well, let's just say, I can't imagine how my life would be without all of them. Ya'll are so incredible and I'm glad that I'm able to be with all of you, Marie, Rune, Remus, Plat, Ben, Tia, Goldie, Dawn, Trish, Willuna, Evan, Ice, Ruby, Matt, Trace, Joseph, James, Finn, Cart, LCS, Silver, Vr, Neve and all the rest. And with that concludes this long ass A/N, congratulations if you read through all of it, I will now bestow upon you the Nobel Dusk Prize. That's all for today, stay tuned for District Nine! Cheers :)