DISTRICT 3 FEMALE- BAYLOR RAYLEENS

I like to think that I'm a pretty fearless person. Calm, cool, collected. In the face of danger, I'm in control.

In the face of a Cyclops... you'll cut me a little slack, right?

Well, it's been a good life.

It settled right over the prizes and challenged us with its gaze and a roar that shook your teeth. Some especially brave tributes (or stupid) crouched into a fighting position. Others looked about ready to pee themselves. I was probably in the paralyzed group.

Three....

I really hoped this wouldn't hurt.

Two.....

I'm going to regret this, aren't I?

One....

I cursed wildly inside my head.

GO!!!

A tidal wave of tributes rushed forward. The Cyclops appeared momentarily unsettled, then he blinked and snarled, slashing sharp, flashing claws.

Blood. Red, metallic, thick blood ran for its life. Splashes after slashes, floods after cuts, rips after tips. Waterfalls of death.

Me? Oh, I stood on my platform. Penny for my thoughts? Yeah, I really wanted one of those prize bags. Actions speak louder then words, yes? My actions said I wanted to GET THE HELL OUT OF THERE!!!

I bolted. Like, if someone had seen me, I would've been nicknamed the Flash. In that moment, I saw two options. Run to the grey house neighborhood, which seemed a lot more friendly, or to the colossal castle of a house, which seemed a lot less friendly.

Of course, I took my chances with the castle.

I took another step, to turn in that direction, when something heavy smashed into my temple, throwing me off balance and momentarily stunned. A bigger something rammed into my torso a moment later.

"You catch another one?"

The thing on top of me sat on my back and straddled my ribs with the legs I knew it had.

"Yeah, it's a young'un though."

Oh. So a male was currently shoving my head into the dirt. Heh. Trust a boy to take the physical way.

"I'm thirteen, hardly a young'un to you," I muttered around the earth in my mouth.

"What was that?" the boy lifted my head by the hair and asked.

Tears formed in my eyes. Boys have a weak spot and girls have a weak spot. I honestly believe that hair is the spot.

"I said I'm hardly a young'un to a fifteen year old. And would you mind getting off? You do realize how bad this looks, right?" (A/N: I'm sorry, I had to.)

He immediately dropped my head and stood up hastily. I smirked into the ground, satisfied. Works every time. But ow, though. That really hurt my nose.

"Be careful," I heard one whisper, "she's a snarky one."

I had only a moment to ponder what that meant before I was lifted by my collar and brought face-to-face with another boy.

"Well, hi there," I said casually. I raised an eyebrow in a questioning manner.

The boy looked shocked, before schooling his features and sneering.

For all of those kids who don't know what just happened, I basically turned the tables. That sudden movement was meant to unsettle me, leaving me vulnerable and scared. That would be the ideal time to frighten a prisoner out of her wits and question them or something like that. I didn't act according to plan. Acting casually and raising an eyebrow like I did was the exact opposite reaction they wanted. The reason he was so surprised was because not very many people can react the way I did. Seldom will someone be casual about being lifted by the collar.

"Did you get a bag?" he demanded, shaking me a little for dramatic effect. He basically highlighted the fact that he was the one in control, not me.

"No. Did you?"

That was just me being snarky.

The boy opened his mouth, eyes flashing furiously, when a huge claw swiped into him and his grip opened.

I fell.

I landed heavily on my side and could only watch in horrified fascination as the Cyclops ripped through my enemies like they were warm butter.

The boys' screams filled the air and the teeth-gritting sound of splitting flesh and splashing blood was deafening.

I lay completely still.

Suddenly, the Cyclops stopped and opened his mouth, dropping whoever's bloody corpse he was holding, and stood on two legs. He walked away, to the Cornucopia, then disappeared behind it.

"Run," a scratchy, pain-laced voice said. "Run to the Fowl Manor!"

I didn't look back, I didn't acknowledge the voice. I just stood up and I ran.

DISTRICT 7 FEMALE- AMBER SKYE

I walk to the glass tube that will take me to the arena and possible death almost calmly. I twist my wooden ring on my finger and the smooth wood brings a sense of acceptance. It's not like I've accepted my death, more like I've accepted that I will have to bring death to live. I slowly force my heavy feet to move towards the tube as I think. I think about Joan, about the children who I will have to watch die, about what I did to deserve this. What did I do to deserve this? It's not like I've committed a crime or anything, in fact I mind my own business most of the time.My thoughts wander to the day where my fate was sealed with one simple, small piece of paper. The reaping.

*****flashback*****

I watch, horrified as a bullet is shot into the man's skull. The dead man slumps onto the pavement, a red ooze emerging from the wound, his eyes staring into the nothingness.

I did not know him. All I know is that he defied the peacekeepers. The peacekeepers leave, not caring that they tore apart another family and I turn away, heart aching as his crying family rushes to his side, his wife cradling the man's head in her arms. I should be used to this, I mean this is a child's reality. Seeing people die every second day. But every time someone is killed, trying to do good I can't help but despair.

I want to run away from this madness, this fenced in district, but I know that it is impossible. I would end up like that man. A bullet through my head, lying on the pavement. But would someone even ever miss me anyway? No. I can't think like that, I'd have to leave Joan. And that's out of the question.

So instead I run through the fields and trek up a hill to find my spot underneath the lone willow on top. No one comes up here. I can see most of the district from here. On one side, the crumbling houses and the other, the endless fields. I sit up against the tree, my legs in front of me and I can just imagine myself running. My long red hair billowing behind me as I run, running away from everything and everyone.

I put my head in my hands and tears start to appear and a couple fall. I am only twelve. A mere child. What do you expect me to do? My whole family is dead because of the peacekeepers. They didn't deserve to die. No human deserves to die - the peacekeepers do, but they're anything but human. They are machines meant to do work for a president that kills 23 children and scars another for life. Every. Single. Year. Children who haven't even lived their lives yet. A small part of me even wants to be reaped, to let out my anger, however a larger part is terrified at the thought.

But Joan, no, I have to be here to protect her like I've done before. I've killed a wolf protecting her and myself. I'd throw myself in front of a bullet for her for gosh sake! She does that to people; enters their heart and once she does, they realise she's an angel. So kind and helpful, seeing the positive even after all that's happened. I may look innocent and oblivious with wide green eyes, but after all that's happened to me, after all the horrors I've seen, I am anything but. Joan however, I have to protect, I have to stop her from becoming like me. A broken girl.

She deserves so much more than this. More than growing up in a world where hope is muffled thanks to our society. And even in this horrid world, Joan had to grow up and quicker than normal thanks to the death of her father and brother and then having to take care of her mother.

I don't know what I would've done without Joan. Even though she's four years younger than me, she sometimes acts wiser and is my rock. That's what happens when you're forced to grow up at the age of eight. Even though I have no family by blood left, I have Joan and that's all I can ask for. She's the one person I have to take care of. She's the one person I want to live for. It may sound dramatic but our friendship is a bond that nothing can break.

My thoughts are interrupted by the sound of a set of small footsteps coming towards me and I look up, eyes probably puffy and watering. It's the one person I was reminiscing about. Joan.

I furiously wipe my eyes and force a smile upon my face, "Hey Joan."

"What's wrong?" She asks in her small, delicate voice, a frown on her face. Joan is a very small girl with blonde, wavy hair and sparkling grey, intelligent eyes. She's smarter than nearly every child her age and more responsible and mature than even children older than her.

I just smile softly, "Nothing Joan. I'm fine."

She sighs, "The reaping is going to start soon Amber."

As soon as those words leave her mouth a sense of overwhelming dread comes crashing down on me and my shoulders slump. It is my first reaping but I've seen enough of them to know it's painful and terrifying. But why would it be me? It's my first reaping, and although I've purchased two lots of tesserae for me and Joan, I'm only in three times. I try to calm my heart threatening to beat out of my chest and close my green eyes, breathing carefully and slowly. I play with the ring on my index finger of my left hand, the feel of the smooth wood calming my nerves only slightly.

My eyes open and I see Joan still standing there with a patient look in her eyes and I push myself up, about to enter in my first reaping.

*****

The reaping is seen by the Capitol as a penance for the districts rebelling against the Capitol. A source of entertainment and excitement. The districts see it as a barbaric time when two children are torn away from their families to an arena where they will most probably die. Well, apart from the Careers, the children in district 1 and 2 who volunteer to participate in the Hunger Games for glory. They almost always win. The latter, although harsh is more accurate as we do live in a harsh world after all.

After I get ready, we walk down the badly paved streets where rickety houses barely stand on either side of the road. I pull Joan along hurriedly, trying to get to her house before 1 o'clock when the reaping starts. As we come to her house, I walk up the dilapidated steps onto her rotted wooden balcony and open the door with a bit of a struggle.

As I walk in I see Joan's mother seated in her rocking chair by the empty fireplace with a distant and dull look in her eyes like normal. Her once lush hair is thin and dirty, no smile on her face. Her frail body doesn't move and hint if she's heard or seen us, but as always we walk past and go into Joan's bedroom. It mirrors mine, a dirty, dull room with nothing personal or colourful. Because we're running short on time and she's not going into the reaping anyway, I quickly dress her in a white skirt and baby blue buttoned up top and step back and smile, "You look beautiful Joan."

She smiles at me.

*****

As I enter the town, I meet up with all the children going towards the Hall Of Justice, Joan latching on to my hand like she normally does. As I come closer to the line, continuing to build up with children, the twelve and thirteens shaking like a leaf. And the older ones, although used to the reaping, still play with their hands or fidget nervously. My heart is beating so hard in my chest it's almost painful and I can't help but start shaking in fear even though I know I won't get picked. But there's always that small voice in my head saying, 'what if'.

I turn to Joan and plaster a smile on my face, but I know she can probably see through it, "I'll be right back, okay?"

"Okay," she whispers in a small voice.

I turn and put one leg in front of the other, repeating the pattern until I get to the line where I wait. Stand in line, take a step forward, stand, step, stand, step, stand and then finally I step up to the peacekeeper who asks for my hand. I hesitantly put my hand forward and she roughly grabs it, flips it, pricks my finger and I wince. She smears the blood on a piece of paper, scans it and nods, "Next." And like that, I am part of the reaping. Three pieces of paper in a pool of hundreds. A pool of children awaiting their fate, whether it be as safe as you can be in a district or most probable death.

I let out a breath and walk in line to my spot with the other twelve year olds. I stand there as all the others file up and move into their places. I just wish it to be over already.

I focus on my breathing as it fills my ears, but I snap back in to focus when our district escort basically prances up onto the stage, with a giant smile on his extremely made up face, not quite distracting everyone from the giant blue wig balancing precariously on his head. Sakata Efo. I almost snort; this man turns up to the reaping like its some sort of party. I find a sneer has found its way onto my face and I quickly mask it, replacing it with a blank expression.

I practically zone out completely as Sakata drones on and on about how the Hunger Games exist to show a sense of unity of the districts and ignorant stuff like that. My eyes snap to the stage as Sakata finishes his speech and his voice echoes into the microphone, "And may the odds be ever in your favour," he laughs merrily, "Ladies first.'

He walks over to a large glass bowl with dozens upon dozens of slips of paper inside. Three of them with my name. And with a dramatic flourish, still smiling so cheerfully it's almost obnoxious, he plucks a piece of paper out of the bowl. A sense of dread and even horror finds its way into my stomach as Sakata walks over to the microphone and opens the slip of paper. With another smile he calls out the name I never wanted him to utter."Amber Skye."

*****flashbackover*****

A peacekeeper at the back of the room interrupts my thoughts, "20 seconds."

I turn back to the tube and step in as the glass doors close behind me, my heart beating painfully in my chest so loud I can hear it drumming in my ears. I close my eyes and choke back a sob as the tube begins to rise; this is not the time for crying, this is the time for being strong. So I will be strong. I will be the underestimated one who will win against all odds.

I will win these games.

I'm surrounded by darkness as the platforms lift into the arena for a few seconds before light suddenly shines down upon me and I squint, looking around.

All the other tributes along with me surround a gleaming gold structure I believe to be the cornucopia, shimmering in the sunlight cast down from the sun above. To my left is an enormous hill, and the castle that stands upon it is none other than The Fowl Manor (the Fowl's home for centuries). To my right lies a grassy field sweeping across immeasurable land and in the distance sits numerous dull, grey houses, each lined up perfectly with the other. The Abnegation sector.

Suddenly a voice announces that there are 19 silver drawstring bags in the cornucopia which will give a great advantage to those who are able to get one. The only thought that passes through my mind me, 'Should I risk the bloodbath or run to safety?' My eyes widen as I spot a creature of some sort crawling through the cornucopia. My head darts to the other tributes and I realise none have seen it, so for me the answer is clear and a plan starts to form in my mind. A great plan with terrible outcomes. I shake my head, these people want to kill me and to survive I will have to kill as well.

As the clock counts down, with a plan in mind I ready myself.

3.

2.

1.

I run towards the manor.