District 5 female – Carmilla Wilkes, 16
"So, you trapped and killed ten kids in an abandoned warehouse. You shot eight of them in complete darkness, before torturing the remaining two, exploding one of them, and decapitating the other one?"
"Yes. And I'm proud of it."
"That's sick! God, I wish I was here for such a good reason, Carmilla. You're so talented."
"What was your name, again?"
The girl I was talking to grinned. She'd been my cellmate since I'd arrived in prison just the previous night, but I was only just meeting her now because the peacekeepers had knocked me out as soon as I'd arrived. "My name is Morana. Morana Buckle."
"What did you do to get here?" I asked. I couldn't stop staring at her hair. It was dyed a brilliant shade of purple. Perhaps I would dye my hair like that one day.
"Attempted murder a few months back."
"Attempted?" I repeated, snorting.
"I – yes," said Morana. "I was caught before I could kill him, though."
"Well, I'm obviously the better killer, then," I sneered at her. "I'll have to find a knife somewhere here so I can show you my skills."
"Did you have any previous murders before this?" Morana asked me, and I narrowed my eyes at her.
"Obviously I have, I'm skilled," I said, crossing my arms.
"Can you teach me?" she asked.
"I'm not giving away my secrets," I snapped at her.
"But someone needs to take over from you," she said. "Temporarily, of course. While you're gone."
"No one needs to replace me," I snapped, clenching my fists.
"I mean – look, there's a twist on the Hunger Games reapings this year," said Morana. "It was announced this morning, you were still out to it. But the district is going to vote in their tribute. Someone everyone hates."
"So, you're saying everyone hates me!?" I shouted at her.
"Of course they do," she said. "You just got arrested by peacekeepers for killing ten kids for the fun of it. Of course you're going to get voted in."
"Fine, then," I said. "At least I get to kill people and not get in trouble for it. I reckon I could take them all out in the bloodbath, but it'd be nice to have a bit of fun with them as well, don't you reckon?"
"Yeah, and put on a show for us all, properly show off your skills," said Morana, her eyes wide. "And win it for District Five..."
"Become a millionaire," I said, grinning to myself. "Spend the money on weapons... kill more people... but always get away with it because I'm rich and famous."
"Wouldn't that be wonderful?" said Morana.
"It would. But it's for me, not you, not anyone else," I snapped at her.
"Alright..." she said. "Shall we get some lunch, then?"
The next day, a few peacekeepers came around to our cell so we could place a vote on which members of the district we thought should go into the Quarter Quell. I voted randomly for the girl slot, but for the male slot, I voted for the brother of the girl I had killed last year.
Her death had been classified as a suicide, but I knew that her brother, Albert, suspected rightfully that I was the one who killed his sister. If he was dead, then the truth would never come out.
Although maybe now that I was caught as a killer that truth coming out wouldn't be such a big deal. But however hard the peacekeepers tried to keep me restrained, I knew I would be able to get out of prison and kill others.
And if I was to go into the arena, I would be just unstoppable in the bloodbath.
A week later was reaping day, and by that point I had made myself quite comfortable in prison, surrounding myself with like-minded people. However, there were also several annoying people and during the week I had to be dragged out of the cafeteria several times after coming at people with a butter knife.
I didn't bother dressing nice for the reaping; I simply wore the same jail jumpsuit that I had worn for the past week. The peacekeepers escorted all of us in the prison who were of age to be reaped to the town centre and stood around us as we went into the line.
The escort from the Capitol went onto the stage then, and my first thought of her was that she was ugly with all her fake makeup. I couldn't even see what her face properly looked like, and I wanted to run up to her and stab that ugly face.
She then began to talk about the history of the Hunger Games, and her annoying voice talking about boring things made me want to kill her even more. If I was voted, perhaps I would.
"Alright, well, ladies first!" she said suddenly, and I clenched my fists at the sound of that overly chirpy voice made me cringe. I wish I could rip that voice out of her. "The female tribute chosen for the 25th Hunger Games from District 5 is... Carmilla Wilkes!"
I chuckled lightly before walking towards the front stage. Once I was at the front, I lifted my middle finger up to the crowd, then shouted, "FUCK YOU ALL! VOTING ME IN LIKE THAT! I HOPE THAT YOU ALL BURN TO ASHES, YOU HUGE BUNCH OF FUCKWITS!"
"OK, calm down Miss Wilkes..." said the escort, going to place her hand on my arm, but I gripped her hand before she could, then dragged her closer to me, and punched her nose with my other hand.
The crowd gasped and booed, but I didn't care and moved to punch her again, but the peacekeepers grabbed onto me and dragged me behind the stage before I could.
They brought me to a room behind the stage and didn't let go of my arms for a single second.
"What's this room all about?" I demanded, struggling against their grip.
"The goodbye room," one of them responded. "After the male tribute is selected, people will come here and say goodbye to you."
I cackled loudly. "No one is going to say goodbye to me. My parents have given up on me."
"Fair enough, too!" a peacekeeper said to me, crossing his arms. "Alright, then. Let's take you to the train."
District 5 male – Ezekiel Cunningham, 17
I voted for the kid in the wheelchair and Amber as the tributes the next morning, before coming straight back to the hospital to see my mother. She hadn't even stirred for over twenty-four hours, however, according to the doctors she was alive and breathing, and would be back to normal in a few days.
Well, as normal as she could be with her condition. Isaac handled the situation better than me, as he always did, and it made me just want to punch him.
I paced back and forth in the hospital room, my mind filled with a whirlwind of emotions. Anger, frustration, and fear mingled together, creating a storm within me. Isaac, my stupid brother, sat calmly in the corner of the room, reading a book as if everything was perfectly fine. It infuriated me how effortlessly he could maintain composure in the face of such adversity.
"How can you be so calm, Isaac?" I snapped, unable to contain my frustration any longer. "Mum's lying there, unconscious, and you're sitting there reading a damn book!"
Isaac looked up from his book, his gaze calm but sympathetic. "I understand you're upset, Ezekiel. Trust me, I am too. But getting angry won't help Mum recover any faster."
His words only seemed to fuel my anger further. I clenched my fists tightly, my knuckles turning white. "I know that, Isaac! But at least show some emotion! This is Mum we're talking about!"
Isaac sighed and set his book down, his face finally showing a hint of the turmoil he must have been feeling inside. "Ezekiel, you know I care about Mum just as much as you do. But getting angry and punching walls won't change the situation. It'll only make you feel worse."
His words made me want to hit me like a slap across the face. Even if I knew my anger wouldn't bring Mom back to consciousness or make her condition any better, and that it would only leave me exhausted and helpless, he was being such a goody-two-shoes.
"You're such a little rat, Isaac," I snapped at him.
Isaac got up from his seat and walked over to me, placing a reassuring hand on my shoulder, but I shoved him off straight away. "I know it's hard, Ezekiel. But sometimes all we can do is be there for her, support her, and trust in the doctors. They're doing everything they can to help her. And they're doing a good job. After all these years, she's always been able to come home."
Tears welled up in my eyes as I looked at my motionless mother lying on the hospital bed. I missed her before she was sick. I missed her smile, her laughter... I missed everything about her.
Thankfully, only a day later my mother regained her consciousness, and the day before the reaping was able to come back home from the hospital. I was reassured that she was back to normal on the morning of the reaping, however, when she began fussing over the fact that my jeans were faded and ripped, but I just shrugged her off.
"Mum, it doesn't matter," I said, rolling my eyes.
"Yes, it does, Ezekiel!" she cried out, brushing dust off of my shirt. Her voice was hoarse, and she was clearly exhausted from being in the hospital for so long, so I grabbed her hands and began to wipe the dust off the shirt myself.
"It's alright, Mum," I said to her. "Are we ready to go?"
"Yes, yes..." she said. "Isaac, are you ready?"
"I'm ready," said Isaac, who was sitting on his little bed.
"Get up, then, we're going," I snapped at him. He jumped up, and the three of us walked out of the house and towards the town centre for the reaping. I was the only one out of the three of us who was eligible to be voted into the Quell, so I left them and walked to the crowd of teenage boys.
I shoved a few younger kids on my way to where my age group was standing and found myself next to the kid in the wheelchair.
"I voted for you, you know," I sneered at him. "I mean, given how pathetic you are, I wouldn't be surprised if everyone voted for you as well. You won't stand a chance in the games, you can't even walk!"
"And I wonder whose fault that it?" he said through gritted teeth.
"I wonder," I sneered at him as the escort walked onto the stage to speak with us all. She said the girls first, and it was a girl called Carmilla Wilkes, who was only a year younger than me, but everyone knew she was psychotic. And she really owned that title when she was reaped, by screaming at the rest of the district then punching the escort, and having to be dragged off of the stage before the male could even be reaped. She had guts, I'd give her that.
"Now, time for the boys!" the escort said with a large smile on her face. "The male tribute from District 5 is... Ezekiel Cunningham!"
I laughed loudly. Why was I not surprised that it was me? I shoved the kid in the wheelchair off his chair, then shoved the kid next to me who was blocking my path to the stage.
I made my way to the front, shoving other people on the way just for fun, and, right before I got to the stage, I punched a small boy in the very front row.
I threw a grin at the escort, who looked horrified at the idea that both of the tributes from five were considered awful people. Carmilla had had to be taken off the stage, so I had no one to shake hands with, so I was just brought behind the stage as well, to the goodbye room.
Only a minute after getting into the room, my mother and Isaac came in. Isaac crossed his arms as my mother wrapped her arms around me tightly.
"I love you," I said to her. And it was true. She was the only person in all of Panem that I did love.
"Why would they vote you in, Ezekiel?" she sobbed.
"Isn't it obvious?" Isaac snapped. "After all the horrible things he's done to everyone... especially that poor kid in the wheelchair..."
"Ezekiel wouldn't hurt a fly," my mother sobbed.
"You wouldn't know, you're always in hospital!" Isaac cried.
"Mum can't control that!" I said, letting go of my mother and walking towards Isaac.
"I'm not saying she can, I'm saying that she doesn't know about all the horrible things you do!" Isaac shouted, tears welling in his eyes. "I always thought I'd have an older brother to look up to, but I know now that that's not the case at all! You're a horrible brother, a horrible son, a horrible person!"
"You take that back!" I screamed at him, pushing him. He didn't fall over, though, and shoved me right back.
"Boys!" my mother cried out.
"You're a dickhead, Isaac!" I shouted, shoving my brother again before the peacekeepers had to grab us both and separate us.
"That's enough," the one that grabbed me said sharply. "Mrs Cunningham, Isaac... Ezekiel is going to go now, and you two can return home."
They were dragged away, and I clenched my fists as I watched Isaac, hating the idea that my mother was going to be stuck with him alone for a few weeks.