Trigger Warning: misogyny, mentions of prostitution and child sexualization (nothing happens, just mentioned)

. . .

D1 F: Cherish Ward

Age: 18

. . .

Cherish sat with a straight back and proper posture as she looked at Headteacher Lux, who was reading over some paperwork.

The Headteacher was playing a final game with her; she knew he was testing her composure under pressure and intense silence. The joke was on him, though; she had spent almost every waking moment with one Aldrich Beauregard since the quell was announced, since the ordeal with Jaz, and Aldrich becoming the selected male volunteer.

She was used to intense silence, and if she was being honest, Headteacher Lux had nothing on Aldrich's silence.

She did not know much about Aldrich, if she was honest. Oh, don't get her wrong, she knew all about his quirks and habits and what could be learned by observing body language, but she had no idea about his thoughts and feelings.

Cherish tried to get Aldrich to open up and become attached to her like Jaz was, but she did not think she was successful. She did not believe Aldrich would hesitate to kill her.

Not like Jaz, Damm, that girl-on-fire. Cherish knew Jaz sometimes questioned things and was not as grateful as he should be to the Academy, but she coached him through it.

Then, when he watched the 74th games...

"You're really going to do this?" Cherish asked…

"You know why I have to," Jaz's eyes flashed hauntingly, but Cherish did not know. The Academy was her life, her family. It was everything she cared about, and Jaz wanted to throw it all away. Jaz was willing to get her whole family killed so he could have his little tantrum.

It wasn't right; the Academy saved them both; they were in the orphanage together. Did Jaz not remember the hunger pains and the beating where they weren't allowed to fight back? Sure, if he didn't get into the Academy, he might get a job in the jewel mines, but they would never accept her.

There were too many people and too few jobs, and everyone knows no matter how strong a girl was, they would never get hired; girls were a distraction. She wasn't a prodigy at sowing or the arts, and she was too angry and had no dowery to become a wife.

All that would be left for her was her looks, and she still remembered the matron talking about her looks to the street workers and pimps. She clawed her way out of there into the Academy. Furthermore, the staff were proud of her grit, fight, and temper. They cared for her, they gave her a purpose, and they believed in her.

Jaz wanted to throw all of it away to get her family killed because both of the tributes he was rooting for didn't win. For Panem's sake, they were not even from a career district. So no, Cherish didn't understand and wanted to yell, shout and scream.

But she didn't, because if Jaz wanted to become a rebel, she would take him down like a rebel, including all his accomplices.

So she said with a voice that trembled not from sadness but rage, "Don't leave me."

Jaz looked at her with soft eyes before reaching up and playing with a strand of her hair, "I won't; we are family, Cherish. Tomorrow, I will come to your room when it is dark, and we will leave together."

Jaz smiled at her with hope-filled eyes, and she took his hand and gave it a gentle squeeze.

The next day, when training started, instead of walking to class, she walked to the Headteacher's office and told him everything.

She chided herself for getting distracted by the past while in the Headteacher's office. Finally, Headteacher Lux cleared his voice and said, "You understand what you need to do tomorrow."

Cherish nodded her head, and Headteacher Lux looked back down at his work and said, "Good, dismissed."

Cherish blinked a little in disbelief; that was it; Aldrich's meeting had gone at least an hour, and it had barely been five minutes. However, as she looked at Headteacher Lux working away, she knew her meeting was over.

Cherish got up from her seat and left.

. . .

Cherish sighed when her alarm woke her up. Last night had been a long one; the new recruits had so many questions, and of course, Aldrich did not answer any.

There was something heavy in her stomach, and she felt almost nauseous. She tried one last trick to gain at least a modicum of affection from Aldrich; Panem above, she hoped he accepted the bracelet as his token.

But she couldn't worry about that now; Cherish shook herself, got out of her bed, and walked to her wardrobe. Her reaping outfit was a fluffy pink sparkly tulle monstrosity that stopped at her knees with a sweetheart neckline.

She hated it, but Glimmer, her mentor and last year's tributes namesake, said it was what the Capitol wanted, so she didn't complain. After she finished getting dressed and applying makeup, she walked out of her room and into the dining hall.

Technically, she didn't have to eat breakfast here this morning, but for routine's sake, she grabbed a tray and sat down by herself. Nobody disturbed her, but they started wondering why she was there. She ignored them and ate her breakfast idly.

When she was done, she cleared her tray and walked with the crowd to the reaping square. Almost immediately after she signed in and got to her assigned spot, the victors, mentors, and Zinthia Lomouth walked onto the stage, and the screens flicked to life.

War, terrible war. Widows, orphans, a motherless child. This was the uprising that rocked our land. Thirteen Districts rebelled against the country that fed them, loved them, protected them. Brother turned on brother until nothing remained. And then came the peace, hard fought, sorely won. A people rose up from the ashes and a new era was born. But freedom has a cost. When the traitors were defeated, we swore as a nation we would never know this treason again.

And so it was decreed, that each year, the various districts of Panem would offer up in tribute, one young man and woman, to fight to the death in a pageant of honor, courage and sacrifice. The lone Victor, bathed in riches, would serve as a reminder of our generosity and our forgiveness. This is how we remember our past. This is how we safeguard our future.

On the twenty-fifth anniversary, as a reminder to the rebels that their children were dying because of their choice to initiate violence, every district was made to hold an election and vote on the tributes that who would represent it.

On the fiftieth anniversary, as a reminder that two rebels died for each Capitol citizen, every district was required to send twice as many tributes.

On the seventy-fifth anniversary, as a reminder to the rebels that even the united rebels cannot overcome the power of the Capitol and to show the mercy of the Capital, the twenty-four tributes will be split into twelve groups of two decided by the Capitol, and those two, if they make it to the end, can become joint victors.

The microphone screeched as the video finished, and Zinthia Lomouth began speaking, "This year is a very special year, as we all know, so for that reason, I decided to start with the boys!"

Cherish watched the stage intently, "Shine Smith," Zinthia Lomouth called.

There was a moment of pause, and Cherish heard Aldrich speak louder than ever before: "I volunteer as tribute."

A path cleared as soon as Aldrich spoke, and a sea of children parted to let him get to the stage. Cherish carefully looked him over and spotted the bracelet she had given him on his wrist. Relief filled her; thank Panem, he accepted her gift.

Zinthia Lomouth then asked Aldrich, "And what is this confident volunteer's name?"

"Aldrich Beauregard"

As usual, there was no hint of any emotion Cherish could detect from Aldrich. All Cherish could hear was his monotone, never-changing voice.

Zinthia Lomouth shrieked in delight before announcing, "Now, the ladies!"

Zinthia reached her hand in the reaping bowl before calling, "Shimmer Glaze, where are you, dear?"

Cherish didn't even check to see where the movement was coming from before calling, "I volunteer as tribute." Again, the sea of children parted, but this time for her.

Cherish fixed a smile on her and made sure to have a bounce in her step as she walked on stage.

Zinthia Lomouth clapped and said in a sing-song voice, "And what is the name of the stunning tribute?"

"Cherish Ward," she replied, pitching her voice delightedly and adding a girlish giggle for the Capitol, just like Glimmer taught her.

Zinthia Lomouth grinned like a cat who had just caught a juicy mouse before yelling, "Now let's hear some applause for District One's tributes for the Third Quarter Quell."

Thunderous applause rang from everyone watching; this was it, let the games begin.

. . .

Hi everyone, this is WinningGlory with another finished chapter! I have exciting news to share: Paradigm of Writing has agreed to become my beta reader/editor! They were amazing help, and helped me immensely this chapter. I hope you enjoyed it. I invite you to please share some love with Paradigm of Writing, and shout them out if you leave a review.

Everyone's support has been amazing and thank you for all the kind words, reviews and help! Thank you to everyone who submitted a tribute! And THANK YOU EVERYONE FOR READING!

Ps. I love to hear everyone's thoughts, so drop a review and tell me what you think of my work so far!