Tamin Sirket, 18, District 5

When Tamin saw his father's body fly across the factory, he thought that nothing would ever compare to that pain. Not the bullying that had tormented him for years prior. Not the physical injuries given to him the moment his father took his last breath.

But having his name called for the Hunger Games comes close.

There's nothing physically painful about hearing his name called. The walk to the stage came with no danger. But when his mind went through years of arena battles and mutt attacks, that's when he started to fear.

Especially when what followed was the realization that he would be the one face-to-face with those dangers. And his family would have to sit on the couch and watch as he battled for his life.

They're the first to visit Tamin in the Justice Building. His mother and his four younger siblings pile into the room and surround Tamin with tears, hugs, and words of affirmation.

Their tears create more tears for him and there's nothing he can do to lessen the pain he feels. He doesn't want to leave.

(He definitely doesn't want to die.)

He looks at his oldest sister, Cara. His heart breaks when he thinks about all the responsibility that's about to fall on her. Their father's money wouldn't last forever.

"Don't take out any tesserae, please. It's not worth it," Tamin instructs his siblings. Cara is the only one eligible for now. But time changes all.

And not always for the best.

"I won't," Cara's voice breaks, but Tamin knows she understands. His eyes fall on the twins, Harriet and Ashlyn, who are just as tear-struck as Cara.

"Hey. Don't worry. Cara and Mom will be there for you," he pushes a smile through as he tries to bring truth to his words. Based on their reactions, he can tell it doesn't really work.

"I want you here for us. But they say you're not coming home…" Harriet says. Tamin scrunches his brow.

Who would say that to a child?

He glances at his mother. There's shame in her eyes.

"They overheard some people talking…after you were taken inside. Some kids, I think," she says softly.

It's not enough for them that the Sirket's have already experienced one family tragedy. They think it's right to mock another.

The thought makes Tamin's blood boil, but he holds it inside. His siblings are already too scared. He can't make it worse.

So instead, he pulls them into a tight hug and promises he'll do everything he can to see them again.

Not just for them. For himself.

He's spent enough time putting others in front of him. If he wants to see his family again, he can't afford a single slip-up.

Oswaldo "Ozzy" Moquette, 17, District 8

Ozzy paces back and forth in the small room that holds him hostage. He wants to scream at the Peacekeepers to let him out. If he knew it wouldn't result in immediate death, he would have run away when his name was called at the reapings.

He needed to find Scarlet.

He knew immediately their father had something to do with her disappearance. Ozzy searched everywhere for her. He went to all the fighting pits, and he reached out to old clientele, but carefully, he had to be so careful to not alert him.

It didn't matter how hard he tried. Scarlet was nowhere to be found.

During those months of searching, Ozzy's mind reached dangerous places. Ideas of his sister abandoning him crossed his mind.

He wouldn't believe it.

He knew it wasn't true. He pushed them away. But those thoughts were quickly replaced with something worse.

She's dead.

No. Ozzy couldn't accept that either. Their dad has her. And Ozzy has to save her.

He's not saving shit from the Capitol.

He almost slams his fist into the wall when the door opens. His heart flips.

"Scarlet?" he asks before he gets a chance to see who it is. And when he does, his fists don't unclench.

"Hello, son," his father stands up tall, with a smile too big for his face.

Maybe Ozzy really will punch something after all.

"Where is she? If you hurt her-" Ozzy takes one step closer to his father before he realizes any additional steps would put him at risk of actually committing murder.

Another one. Ozzy still hasn't gotten over the first two.

"Ah ah, careful," he says as Ozzy talks himself out of another kill.

"Please. Let her go. I can't lose her too," Ozzy says, his fists unclenching.

I can't change what's happened to me. But if I don't do something for her- Ozzy's thoughts race alongside his heart and he's sweating and if he's not careful he runs the risk of vomiting.

"I'm sorry, son. I know nothing of her state," he says with an evil grin that Ozzy could just punch straight off his face.

"Liar," Ozzy mutters to himself, unsure if the words travel far enough for him to hear. He assumes they do.

"I simply came to wish you luck. Hopefully, you haven't forgotten…everything you learned under my care." Ozzy's dad gives a slight nod of his head.

Ozzy's fists clench again. He spent so long trying to escape his years under his father, yet it might be the only thing that will save him from the fight that's yet to come.

They stand in silence for some time. Ozzy's eyes fall to the door. His father smiles. He understands. But he's not done.

"Make sure you win, Oswaldo. You wouldn't want to let us both down, would you?" Then he turns to leave. The door clicks shut behind him and Ozzy is left alone with a bunch of unanswered questions and an ignited fire.

Mishra Erfinder, 17, District 3

Mishra sits on the couch, head resting heavily in his hands.

He made the choice to be here, but that doesn't make it any easier.

The worst part is that he didn't tell anyone what he was doing. Not Filo. Not his parents. And definitely not Aadin.

They wouldn't understand. They wouldn't understand, because Mishra couldn't put it into words. He tried.

It frustrates him. That this was the only option to learn the truth. That his time at the Young Inventors Program was cut short just because he wanted the truth.

(If he doesn't do this…)

"What's wrong with you?" Aadin's voice echoes around the small room Mishra was ushered into after the reaping concluded. He's not surprised by his brother's reaction, he didn't exactly prepare him for this.

He honestly thought Aadin would be happy to see him leave.

"Everything. Nothing. What does it matter?" Mishra asks.

"What does it matter? You're throwing yourself into a death match - and for what!" Aadin yells. Aadin never yells.

The last time he yelled was during our fight. Mishra thinks to himself. Ironically the last conversation we had.

Maybe they were doomed to this tense relationship.

"At least you can be top of the class now. I figured you'd be happy." Mishra says. Aadin clenches his fists. Mishra thinks his brother would have punched him already if there weren't Peacekeepers on the other side of the door. Plus, a bruised face doesn't bode well for freshly televised tributes.

*I can't believe you. Even now, you just don't get it," Aadin clenches his teeth. He rubs the sides of his temple, his pale face transforming red.

Mishra knows the feeling. He's sure he looked the same after he and Filo made their first discovery.

Memories of that day flood back into Mishra's mind.

"What?" Mishra's first question to Filo after spending an hour hearing him out.

"Swear on my life. It's true," the boy says. Mishra, having known Filo for over three years, has never once seen fear in the boy's eyes.

That's how he knew to trust him.

"So. What?" Mishra asked.

"We need proof," Filo said the one thing Mishra hoped he wouldn't.

But he only has a minute left with Aadin. How could he possibly convey any of this?

He'll just have to wait. Mishra decides.

"I'm sorry, brother. But don't worry about me. I love you." And Mishra really means it.

Aadin stands across the room from his twin for quite some time. And when the Peacekeeper informs them that time is up, he still has yet to say a word. When Aadin starts following the guard out, Mishra truly believes he has nothing left to say.

But he pauses, just for a moment. Not long enough for the Peacekeeper to notice, but long enough to prove Mishra wrong.

"I hope you know what you're doing," he says. The door separates the twins, and Mishra is left alone with his words spinning in his mind.

"I hope you know what you're doing." He said those same words to Filo when they made their plan to hack into the program's server room to get the proof that Filo assumed was there.

(Maybe Mishra Erfinder really doesn't know what he's doing. But he's come too far to stop now.)

Hem Herringbone, 17, District 9

Hem sits on the rugged couch with her knees pulled to her chest. Tears have stained the dress's skirt. Under any other circumstances, this stain would devastate her.

But under her current predicament, everything else seems so minute. So privileged.

She's never felt pain like this. She's never been this afraid.

What could have ever prepared her for this? Just last week she was working on a history presentation. Just last week, nothing could have been more stressful than preparing to speak in front of her class, and her teacher.

And now her life is on the line and her tears start again. Lucky for Hem, she's soon comforted by the presence of her parents and her brothers.

"Hem, sweetie." Her mom opens her arms and Hem falls into them. Sobs erupt from her and she's shaking.

I'm going to die I'm going to die.

"Don't cry, honey. Please don't cry," Phillip holds his daughter tightly, holding in his own tears as best he can.

(Hem doesn't notice. Her vision is blurred by her own tears. Not even the reassuring words of her parents can save her.)

"I'm…going into the Hunger Games. I'm going to die…I don't want to die," Hem's words come out in between her sobs and hiccups and it's a wonder her parents can understand her.

(But they don't need to hear her words. They know what she's saying. They know her fear. They have it too.)

"You will go into the Hunger Games, but you will not die. I won't let you." Phillip pulls away so she can see his face. Tears have stained his shirt, and Hem feels bad but he doesn't seem to notice and she shouldn't feel bad because she's going into a death game and she's allowed to cry.

"I will be there with you every step of the way. Whatever you need, your mother, your uncle, and I will ensure you receive it. Weapons, food, medicine, whatever it is. You'll be taken care of." His smile is soft and his reassuring words do a little to calm Hem's sobs.

Of course they'll support me. They'll never let me fall.

"O-okay. Th-thank you." Hem wipes away more of her tears with the sleeves of her white dress. The stains will dry and the dress will be okay and if it's not okay she can fix it or her mother can fix it.

When she comes home, of course.

How is she going to do that? How is she going to defeat twenty-three other kids? How is she going to defeat one?

I don't have to kill them all. I just need to…hold out. Until the end.

"Find an ally. Someone you trust. Stick with them, but don't forget only one of you can win. You're smart, Hem. You're strong. You can do this," her father says.

I am. I am capable. I can.

(Because if she doesn't, she'll be letting her family down.)

Reagan la Fey, 17, District 11

Reagan paces the room, desperately searching for a way out. She kept her composure when her name was called, and she was calm as she stood on the stage next to the strange little boy who was also reaped.

But as soon as the cameras were off her, she went into a panic. The fact that she's participating in a death game hasn't even settled in. No, no she can't think about anything except her mother.

She's dying and Reagan tried to help her but she made everything worse.

She only wanted to take a few plants. Just enough to feed them. Her mother was dying, and the Ire's had more than enough. They wouldn't have ever noticed anything was different.

But Isabella was watching and the Ire's didn't get rich without breaking the backs of others.

Tammy la Fey was the first. Too convenient was it for her to disappear after taking a few herbs for herself.

No, not for herself. For her wife.

Diane warned Reagan to stay away. And Reagan didn't listen. Reagan made the same mistake as her mother.

She just didn't know it at the time.

Reagan looks down at her palms. They're shaking. Her breath shakes. The world starts to spin.

Breathe, Reagan. But no amount of air will save her from the death that is at her front door.

(Will it catch her first? Or will Diane be the first to fall?)

Reagan worries the herbs she did get weren't enough.

(She has to forget what it cost. So many lives…)

The door opens and it's Sally who enters.

Reagan was wondering if she would. She was also hoping she wouldn't.

"Sally…" Reagan's voice trails off and there's so much she wants to say but where the hell should she start?

"Don't. Just…don't." Sally holds her hand up to keep Reagan at a distance.

(They used to be so close. What happened?)

Isabella happened.

The girls stand there in silence for what feels like minutes. Reagan tries to form words, but she's done enough damage to the Ire's.

She's done a lot, yet not without consequence.

"You broke my trust three times. And so, it will take three to garner those consequences." Isabella had told her.

Reagan hadn't understood until her friends were nowhere to be found.

Jinny, Paula, and Olive. All gone because of her actions.

Gone, like Tammy.

"I didn't mean to hurt anyone," Reagan says as the tears threaten her.

"Why couldn't you listen to me?" Sally asks, her head locked to the ground.

"You know why I couldn't. My mom…" is dying. Those are the words Reagan wants to say.

(But she shouldn't say that to Sally. Not after what Reagan did.)

So she lets the silence fill the air and any chance to rekindle her…whatever she had with Sally dissipates.

"Good luck, Reagan. I hope it was worth it." Sally's words sting and Reagan is left for a loss of words.

Reagan is left thinking there's nothing else to be said. So when Sally says one last thing before the door closes, Reagan almost doesn't hear it.

"Mother isn't here to see it. But she's happy you're here. It's what she wanted, after all."

Almost.

Ronan Nieimi, 18, District 4

Ronan feels numb during his designated goodbyes. Friends and trainers he doesn't remember from the Academy come to wish him luck. He smiles, he cracks jokes, but none of their words stick with him.

He can't help but feel inadequate already. He hasn't even seen the other tributes.

He has Cali. Cali... kind Cali who pushes Ronan to places he didn't know he was capable of reaching. The only person who believes in him for him.

(The one person he never wants to lose.)

And he kissed her and they haven't talked about it and he might've just ruined everything.

"Ronan?" The voice of his little brother snaps him out of it. He wonders how long he was spaced out.

"Hm? Oh, sorry. I was... don't know," he says. Roman looks at him with sympathy. His mother, a hint of displeasure.

"Don't lose focus in the Capitol, Ronan. You have one shot," she reminds him.

She doesn't remind him of their deal. She doesn't have to. He knows it's not just his life on the line. If he fails, Roman will be next.)

Ronan can't let that happen. He can't fail both brothers.

"I won't. I promise." The Peacekeeper gives them a minute warning and Ronan gives them both hugs.

"Good luck," Roman says right before he and their mother leave the room.

He stands quietly for a minute, unsure of what comes next. No one else should be visiting.

He fiddles with the conch necklace in between his fingers. He took it from his mother's house the last time he was there - the last time he was in Rohan's room.

He'll give it back to him one day.

Does he just wait until someone comes and gets him? He tries to remember previous years, both tributes are taken to the train at the same time. So maybe they need to get Cali and then they'll get him and then-

The door opens and a man with a hood drawn over his face comes in. Ronan takes a step back.

"Uhh, can I help you?" Ronan asks the figure. He tries to look at the man's face, but it's hidden under the shadow. His hands fidget, and his nails are chewed to the base.

The boy raises his head and Ronan almost faints. He's underweight, bruised, and shaking. But the years he was gone had no impact on Ronan's recognition of his older brother.

"Rohan..." he says in shock.

(Ronan visualized this moment often. He imagined a happy reunion with tight hugs and cartoonish smiles. But reality is always so grim.)

Ronan opens his mouth, but no words form. He closes his mouth, and a "where?" barely squeaks out.

"I-I'm sorry. I can't explain everything right now. No one knows, she doesn't know. Please…please it needs to stay that way," Rohan pleads.

(He always thought Rosalen was just a little too lax about the whole thing. She had Ronan in training immediately when Rohan's results were no longer up to her standards. She knew how to get Ronan into the Academy…it was all just too easy for her.)

Tears have started forming. Ronan didn't care. Rohan pulls him into a hug, and now they're both crying and Ronan can't believe he's alive and he can't believe he has to leave him again and his mother is a liar but Rohan is alive.

"I-" Ronan begins but stops himself as the tears blur his vision.

"You were pulling away, Rohan… I didn't notice- I should've noticed," Ronan's words are muddled but his brother still seems to understand. "I'm so sorry."

Rohan pulls away and Ronan sees something new in his brother's eyes. Something new from Rohan, but too familiar to himself.

Fear.

Fear of their mother. Fear of the Hunger Games.

Fear of never seeing each other again.

"I-I have to give you this," Ronan clumsily reaches for the conch necklace. He unclasps it and places it in Rohan's palms.

Rohan is hesitant to take it, but Ronan insists.

Their three minutes are close to ending and Ronan has too many questions that can't possibly be answered and Rohan's life is in just as much danger as Ronan's and no matter what he cannot protect his brother from their mother.

Not until he's a victor.

"When I come home. You'll live with me. Roman will live with me. And she won't be able to hurt any of us again."

So when Rohan leaves, it's not despair that fills Ronan's heart. It's hope. Hope for a future where the Nieimi boys are free from the grasp of Rosalen.

omg our first round of pre-games povs? no way !

thank you for your patience with this chapter! sorry it was a hair late but I did publish a whole fic called Stories From The Grave its on my profile if you want to read a one shot victor story! Our lovely Grey Thornton will be making an appearance in this fic at some point.

Huge thank you to goldie031 and District 11-Olive for beta'ing I love you both.

Next up we have the trains with Astel, Cali, Chaffinch, Aizen, Valerian, and Becca.

til then

~moose