Mercy Braun, 18: District 2 Female

Breathing in the dark

Lying on its side

The ruins of the day

Painted with a scar

June 26, 73ADD: 11 days before Reaping

"You can never trust anyone but me."

I ready myself in front of the dummy placed in the center of the gym, like I have thousands of times before. I stare at its blank, featureless face, the white hue of the gym lights reflects off the glossy silver mannequin.

"Everyone will always be out to get you."

My grip tightens on the axes that I have wielded for so long that they have become like extensions of my own arms. I'll never forget the way his eyes lit up when I first picked the axes up. I was only nine years old then. I had thought he was actually genuinely proud of me, but I soon realized he only cared about himself and his reputation. I still remember the day it all clicked. I found out that it wasn't normal for him to put me through such intense training at such a young age.

Then one particular night, it all boiled over in the worst way possible. It was a very intense sparring session. We had been going at it for hours. I can't remember exactly what he said to me or what he did, but he pushed me too far. I rushed him, swinging the baton in my hand with blind ferocity. He tried to block my swings, but I guess they were too much. He lost his balance and crashed to the floor. The next thing that happened still replays in my mind to this day. I swung the baton at his legs. The sickening crunch of his leg shattering echoed throughout the entire gym, followed by his screams of pain. However, when the pain subsided, I saw something in his eyes that told me something I thought would never happen.

My father was proud of me.

Five years later, Dad still has to walk with a cane and he can't teach any high-intensity classes at the Academy, but he didn't care. He had made his daughter the ideal Career and that was enough for him. But ever since that night, I realized he did much more than just that. He never really cared for me or my well-being. I was just a little project for him. I was a clay slab and he was the sculptor, molding me into what he wanted. He took advantage of me and used me so he could feel better about himself, and now I have to deal with the consequences.

From the far side of the gym, I hear the metal door swing open the click shut, echoing throughout the building. I freeze in anticipation of my father approaching, fully expecting his grizzled figure to come hobbling from behind the concrete wall. However, it sounds like there are two pairs of footsteps. Did he bring along one of his instructor buddies again?

"Look at Miss Femme Fatale with her cute little axes again." My best friend Cybele's voice rings through the gym. I turn around and give her a piercing glare. Right next to her stands Scout, our mutual best friend.

"Shut up, Cy. Or I'll bury these 'cute little axes' in your bird cage of a chest," I say, pointing one of my axes in her direction.

"I bet you won't," Cy says.

"Oh, those are fighting words." I feel a smirk creeping up on my face as I approach Cybele, but before I can get in her face, Scout plants her petite body in between us.

"Mercy, do you ever think about anything other than fighting?" she asks.

"Oh come on, I wasn't actually gonna fight her," I say.

"Yeah, we were just messin' around," Cybele confirms.

"Good, because I don't want Mercy getting hurt before the Reaping even starts." I scoff at Scout.

"I can't believe you think there's anyone in District 2 that's strong enough to hurt me," I remark, feigning offense. Scout doesn't acknowledge my comment, but Cy rolls her eyes.

"Anyways, there's less than two weeks before the big day," Scout says. "Are you ready?"

"Of course I'm ready," I answer. "I've been training for this moment my whole life."

"Nice! I think you're going to do great." I instinctively cringe at Scout's optimism. "You're going to make everyone in District 2 proud, especially your dad."

My face heats up at the mention of my father. Will he really be proud of me? Or will he just be proud of himself for molding his only child into a Career to be put on a pedestal for the entire country to see. Maybe that's why we train for the Hunger Games, but that can't be it. I was always told it was a way to solidify the line between the weak and the strong. But a twelve-year-old won last year, blurring the line for everyone and taking the honor out of the pageant. Dad said that it could possibly be up to me to restore honor in the Games, but how did that task suddenly fall into my hands?

"I hope so." The words come out grim, and almost hollow.

"I know so," Scout responds with childlike idealism. She doesn't know the half of it when it comes to my father. I don't believe he'll ever truly be proud of me. His sole concern seems to be how well he has trained me. That's the only thing I know for sure he's proud of. He always boasts about how disciplined and obedient I am or how much I respect him. Little does he know that he only has my respect because he snaps at anyone who questions him, but it worked. I'm everything he wants me to be. I'm strong, relentless, intense, and all of the other good things he trained me to be, so why isn't he proud of me now?

"We'll see." The words are hardly a murmur now. I can't afford to think like this. I should only be worrying about myself, but I can't shake it out of my head. Why do I care so much about what my father thinks when he doesn't actually care about me? It makes no sense.

Nothing makes sense anymore.

Felix August, 18: District 2 Male

I'm always ready for a war again

Go down that road again

It's all the same

June 28, 73ADD: 9 days before Reaping

I haven't felt this good in a long time.

Seriously. Everything seems to have been going my way for the better part of a month now. School has been over for a while, the weather outside has been nice, and my family is so busy that I have the whole house to myself almost every day. But that's nothing compared to the great news I got last week.

The Academy finally released the results of the final evaluation after about a good month of deliberation. I have no clue what took them so long to determine the designated volunteers considering that I was the frontrunner for quite some time. The only other guy that was close to me was my good friend Rommy. I can only guess that all of the deliberation was on the girls' side of things. The Academy went with instructor Merit Braun's daughter Mercy. I didn't talk to her much, but I think we'll be a great duo within the Career alliance. That is, if she does what I want.

I hear the faint chime of the doorbell coming from the front of the house. I sigh and sit up from my bed. I wonder who could possibly be at the door at this time of the day. I make my way through the hallway and to the front door. With my hand on the door handle I brace myself for the bright afternoon sun and baking summer heat. After the initial shock of the blinding sunlight, the slim figure in front of me comes into focus. Rommy stands on the front doorstep, fiddling with one of his thick black dreadlocks.

"Dude, didn't I give you a spare house key?" I could've sworn I gave him one considering he's always at my house.

"Yes, and I told you that it was a bad idea," Rommy says, stepping into the front foyer. "What if someone stole the key from me and broke in?"

"No one's gonna break into my house," I say.

"You don't know that," Rommy replies.

"Oh please," I interject. "Even if someone did break in for some reason, they'd be thrown out before they could even lay their hands on anything."

"And who would throw them out?" Rommy asks incredulously.

"Me, duh," I answer confidently. Rommy's lips curl inward as he looks down. His dreads cover up his face, so I can't really see his expression. But his shoulders are shaking.

"Rommy?" I tap his shoulder. "You good, bro?"

"Yeah, I'm fine," he wheezes. He stands up straight again, laughing like I said the funniest thing known to mankind.

"What's so funny?"

"The fact that you think you could throw anyone out of anywhere," Rommy says.

"Shut up dude." I push him lightly in the chest. "I could take anyone in District 2 and win."

"Sure you can."

"Dude, I'm literally the designated volunteer." Of course, Rommy knows this. But still, I gotta remind him every chance I get.

"And that's supposed to intimidate me somehow?" He asks.

"Uh oh, Rommy. Your jealousy is showing."

"I'm not jealous," Rommy says.

"Oh come on, man. You're practically turning green." Rommy looks down, takes his hand and rubs it on his forearm. Then he looks back at me.

"Nope, not green," he says.

"It's a figure of speech."

"I'm just trying to say that no one is jealous."

"It's okay to admit it," I say. "We all wanted that spot but only one of us could have it."

"Felix, stop it," Rommy says. "I'm not jealous."

"Whatever you say, man." Despite what he's saying, Rommy can't convince me that he's not jealous. I can practically see it in his eyes. I don't think it's anything to be ashamed of though. Who wouldn't be jealous of the designated volunteer? Everyone who trains at the Academy dreams of getting that coveted designated volunteer spot, but only two people in each class get the opportunity. Fortunately, I was one of them.

"Anyways," Rommy continues. "Are you gonna be free all day?"

"Yeah. I don't have anything going on," I answer. "Why?"

"Mollie is having a little kickback at her house starting in about an hour," Rommy says. "You tryna go?"

"Hell yeah, dude!" I'm always down for a little kickback, especially if Mollie is hosting. All of her functions turn into full-blown parties, and shit always gets crazy. At Mollie's last party, I got so fucking wasted and jumped off the roof and into her pool. After that I blacked out, but it was a hell of a night. I really want to get fucked up again tonight. I deserve it after all the hard work I've put in.

"I knew you'd be down, bro." Rommy pats me on my back.

"Of course I'm down," I say. "This'll probably be my last party before the Games. I gotta live it up while I can."

"You have a point there," Rommy says. "It'll be different going to parties without you."

"It'll only be for a little while," I say. "When I get back, I'll be hosting the wildest parties in all of Panem."

"But you have to get back first." Is Rommy doubting me? It sounds like he's doubting me. Why would he ever doubt me? I was chosen as the designated volunteer for a reason. If The Academy didn't believe I could win, I wouldn't have been selected. I can't lie, I'm a little disappointed that Rommy doesn't have much faith in me.

I've always thought I'd have a little more support, but Rommy should come around eventually. Once he sees me in action in the Capitol and in the arena, he'll change his mind. Going into the Hunger Games has always been the ultimate goal. Winning it all will just be the icing on the cake. I can see my name in the headlines already, and it's totally up to me to get myself there. And since it's up to me, I know I'll see things through. In fact, I think it's almost time to start planning my first party in Victor's Village.

But I have some other planning to do first.

Hey besties. It's been a minute, hasn't it? I'm sorry it took so long to get this chapter done, but college literally ate up all of my free time and I just couldn't get any writing done. But I'm here now, and so is District 2! Mercy and Felix were both a delight to write. Big thanks goes out to dirtwolf for Mercy and to rising-balloons for Felix.

Mercy: Little Dark Age by MGMT

Felix: Pray For Me by The Weeknd & Kendrick Lamar

That's all I have for now guys. I'll see you in District 3!

Until next time,

Ty