The Fourth Hunger Games Chapter 4: Solitude

Chapter 4: Solitude

“I never found a companion that was so companionable as solitude” - Henry David Thoreau

“Whosoever is delighted in solitude is either a wild beast or a god.” - Aristotle

Cassidee glanced over at Jaylon as they went their separate ways at training. She'd felt horrible explaining to him that she thought it would be best if they trained separately, but she really did feel as if it would be the best for both of them. This way they could each train in what they were good at without weighing the other down. The boy had looked slightly forlorn but had agreed readily, which only increased Cassidee's unfortunate fondness for the boy that she was beginning to see even more as someone she needed to protect.

Not wanting to wander and seem completely clueless, Cassidee headed straight for the nearest station, not even looking to see what it was until she was standing right in front of it. Plants. Well, Cassidee figured she might as well. Growing up in the district responsible for the Capitol's power had left her pretty clueless about both plants and animals, and she'd have to find something to eat in the arena.

Cassidee didn't pay much mind to the younger girl already present at the station until the girl spoke up.

“Um, hi,” Jocelin spoke softly to gain Cassidee's attention. “I'm Jocelin, one of the District 9 tributes.”

Cassidee stared at her for a moment in surprise. Then again, Cassidee reminded herself, Jocelin wouldn't be a career. Neither one of them wanted to be here.

“Cassidee. District 5,” she muttered before turning back to the screen full of pictures of various plants. “Not to be rude,” she spoke again after a moment. “But why are you at this station? District 9 is grain. Don't you already know about plants?”

Jocelin laughed for a moment. “I know about grains, sure, but the only thing I know about wild plants are the weeds that grow up in the crops, and those are only there until we kill them. I may be better off than you in this particular area, I guess, but not by much.”

“Oh, I'd never thought about it that way. I just figured it was all basically the same thing.”

Jocelin shrugged. “Nope.”

The two girls fell into an awkward silence as they continued looking through the long list of edible and poisonous plants.

XX

Kahner had abandoned her. That was all Chloe could focus on as she halfheartedly worked on a snare. It had been difficult for her to process. The two had been friends for so long, and he'd just declared out of the blue that they were better off staying as far away from each other as possible. Chloe had already lost almost everything, but she'd thought she'd at least get to keep Kahner for a bit longer.

She glanced over to where her former friend was attempting to wield a trident. She scoffed, something she didn't usually do, but she couldn't be bothered to reel in her anger. What was the likelihood of the arena having tridents? And even if it did that boy would never be able to wield one correctly. She would have told him that if he hadn't blown her off so cruelly.

“He your boyfriend or something?”

Chloe looked up to find a small boy standing a few feet behind her. It unnerved her that she hadn't noticed him there. That was obviously something she needed to improve. He looked maybe two years younger than her own age of fourteen, which meant it had probably been his first reaping. She pushed down the sympathy she felt.

“No,” she replied shortly. “But he used to be my friend.”

The boy looked somewhat longingly at an older girl over at the plant station. “These games kind of kill friendships don't they,” he muttered quietly.

Chloe willed herself not to get emotionally involved in this conversation. “They kill everything, kid.”

He snorted quietly. “I'd quit calling me a kid if I were you. It's harder to kill a child. You'd be much better off thinking of everyone as equals. That way you don't get too stuck up, but you also don't feel as bad when you kill someone.”

Chloe couldn't hide her shock at the boy's words. This kid was far too wise for a twelve-year-old. He was right. As the boy had said, she needed to stop downgrading the competition when they could have surprising advantages.

“What's your name?” She figured getting as much information as possible could only help her.

“Jaylon,” he responded. “District 5.”

“Chloe,” she stuck out her hand to shake his. “District 6.”

The two young children proceeded to work quietly on their snares. Neither one dared to strengthen their acquaintanceship into something far more dangerous.

XX

How Emilia had found herself at the shelter station she wasn't really sure. She'd wanted to be at a station far from the others, and it had been deserted and tucked somewhat into a corner far enough away from the action for Emilia to pretend that she wasn't being watched. It was odd to feel so alone when her every move was being tracked by at least one person in the large gymnasium.

No one approached, and Emilia was left to learn in peace with no one but the trainer placed at this station. She focused as much as she could. She knew nothing about finding shelter, but she knew that it was fundamental to survival. Food wouldn't be difficult for her to get, so Emilia figured if she could work on the shelter stuff she'd be a lot better off. As long as she forgot about the murdering part.

Whispers pulled her attention away from the trainer and towards two younger children that had come closer to the station. At eighteen, Emilia was one of the oldest tributes that would be going into the arena. These two looked to be the same age, probably thirteen or fourteen. One boy and one girl. She couldn't place their names, but she knew they were from Nine and Four. The District Four girl was even a career, which made it a bit odd that she was with a boy from Nine. It unnerved her how often they glanced her way as they talked. It wasn't the first time she had felt like prey, and she assumed it wouldn't be the last.

XX

Cassidee scowled at the tribute she could hear laughing from across the training center. He'd just ran a dummy through with a sword, which was something Cassidee didn't find nearly as hilarious as he did. Jocelin had wandered off to another station and had left Cassidee to her own devices at the plant station. Cassidee still wanted to figure out more about these plants, as she figured it might be useful, and she had to admit to herself, she was kind of reluctant to head to any of the weapons stations.

The District 5 tribute startled as someone appeared beside her.

“Jumpy,” the District 2 male tribute, who appeared to be about her age, commented with a smirk.

Cassidee rolled her eyes and turned back towards the quiz she was trying to take. She didn't want to give this guy the time of day. Instead of taking the hint, he leaned on the wall beside her and watched as she touched various plants on the screen.

“I haven't seen you over at any of the weapons stations,” the boy smirked as he crossed his arms across his chest.

“Haven't gotten there yet.” Cassidee's heart thumped heavily in her chest as she tried to come across as calm.

“Well,” the boy's smirk widened. “We'd love to see you over there if you ever get the time. It's only fair for us to see how good you are after you've seen all of us.”

“What makes you think I'm even paying attention to your little pissing contest?” Cassidee snapped.

The boy appeared slightly shocked by her words. “Because that pissing contest could be what keeps you alive.” He watched her closely for a moment before moving to whisper in her ear. “We all need to know how to fight each other, and you need to know how to use weapons. It's a beneficial situation for us all so just think about it.”

Cassidee shivered as the boy stalked off.

XX

Kendrick knew he was making a fool of himself. He hadn't been expecting to be able to handle the weapons, but he knew that this would be his only chance to learn. The snickers he kept hearing only hardened his resolve. He'd chosen the knife station because it was the most light-weight of the weapons, and he wanted something that he could wield easily even with his lack of strength. Still, working with knives required one to be extremely agile because of the close proximity required to use them, and Kendrick had never realized just how hard it was to move quickly and with precision. Maybe he would be better off yielding a heavy bow. He had time to try and build up his strength, and aiming from a distance had to be easier than this jumping around business he was currently trying to master.

Another outburst of snickers from somewhere behind him made Kendrick growl in frustration. His thoughts had made him lose focus, and he'd paid the consequence in his fight against the trainer. He got back up, not willing to leave the station after such a humiliating defeat. He had to prove himself at least a little bit before he let himself give up. Kendrick wasn't letting these assholes think about him as if he was a piece of meat they could kill off that easily.

XX

The spear hitting the target caused Coale to smirk. He'd never used weapons before, but Coale was learning that they were really useful for releasing some of his anger about the situation he'd been forced into. Still, they were only releasing some of his anger, and the boy wasn't sure he would ever be entirely free from the emotion that now fueled his entire existence. He would die hating everything and everyone because weren't they all responsible for this horribleness to some degree? They could be angry at the Capitol all they wanted, but everyone here was going along with it. They could have agreed to not become murderers and just let the Capitol murder them themselves, but they wouldn't. Because in the end, they all wanted to live. They were all monsters really. And the fact that he was a monster pissed Coale off more than anything.

XX

Ezra watched Coale strike the target with fear. There were so many tributes who could handle weapons, and every single one of them looked capable of murder. Very few seemed as terrified of killing another human being as Ezra was, and that was one of the single most terrifying realizations of his life. He was going to be slaughtered just like the cattle that his family raised. He couldn't trust anyone because they were all cold-blooded murderers. All of them except him. He wouldn't become like that. He wouldn't.

The Fourth Hunger Games: Chapter 3: Puzzle

Chapter 3: Puzzle

“A good puzzle, it's a fair thing. Nobody is lying. It's very clear, and the problem depends just on you.” - Erno Rubik

“I don't think there is a hidden purpose to the universe that you have to puzzle out.” - Robert Fulghum

“Boston Jacobson,” Tiara smirked as the two tributes were ushered towards the train that would take them to the Capitol. “I haven't seen you around the past month or so.”

“Tiara King,” the older boy mocked. “I haven't had to put up with you for the past month or so.”

Tiara laughed, not bothering to be offended by the obvious insult. “You know, it's kind of hilarious how an eighteen-year-old like yourself could so obviously be taken down by a fourteen-year-old like me.”

Boston ignored her taunts as they reached the train door.

“You don't stand a chance, Jacobson. You should just admit defeat now.”

“Funny,” Boston threw a quick glance back at her as he entered the train. “I don't remember ever claiming I even wanted to win these games.”

Tiara was left gaping after the odd boy as he sauntered off into the train.

XX

Huntur nudged Alissah's shoulder as they walked side-by-side towards the train, while smiling and waving at the cameras as they passed. “Excited?” he asked.

“Of course,” Alissah laughed, sounding genuinely happy. “I've been waiting for this for years. It's going to be so much fun.”

The two teens glanced around the train as they entered. Alissah let out a little sigh at the beauty of the compartment. “This isn't too bad either,” Huntur breathed.

“Almost makes me want to avoid the games,” Alissah smiled as she plopped down on the most comfortable couch she'd ever seen.

“It'll just make us fight harder.” Huntur took a seat beside his fellow tribute. The two watched their other traveling companions flitter around the compartment.

“Of course,” Alissah smiled up at him. “District 2 is going to have a victor this year.”

“Well, don't be too confident about my chances just yet,” Huntur smirked. “We haven't seen the competition yet.”

Alissah let out a snort as she aimed a kick at Huntur's shin. “I didn't mean you, asshole.”

Huntur shoved her shoulder jokingly as he laughed.

They continued on with their banter over who was going to win. Being competition didn't mean they couldn't be friendly. After all, they'd been competing with each other for years.

XX

“Do either of you have any talents that will be useful in the arena?” Their so-called “mentor” looked upon Jocelin and Etin with cold eyes, as if she already knew the answer.

“None,” Jocelin mumbled quietly from where her head rested on her arms at the table.

Etin shook his head to show he was in the same boat.

Their mentor sighed and shook her head. “There's not much I can do,” she voiced what they already knew. “Just hope for the best. Try your hardest, and try not to die too gruesome of a death.”

Jocelin buried her face in her arms to hide the tears streaming down her face. Etin turned even paler. Their mentor almost looked sympathetic before she left the two children alone.

“Some help she is,” Etin muttered, unsure whether or not Joceline was listening. “I bet she doesn't care at all to help us figure out what to do. There has to be some skill we could learn. It can't be that hard to throw a knife or something.”

He glanced over at Jocelin expectantly, but the girl was still crying softly. With a sigh, Etin wandered off to his room where he could puzzle over his future chances alone.

XX

Brianne didn't bother more than a quick glance at her surroundings as she entered the train. Her parents' tearful faces as they said goodbye to the daughter they had tried so hard to protect were still vivid in her mind. All she could manage was to ask where her room was in a tearful voice before she rushed off towards it.

Troy sneered as he watched her go. Brianne was the most pathetic excuse for a career that he'd ever seen. It both angered him, as he knew how much potential she had if she would just get over it, and also excited him. After all, he would no doubt have District 1's united support. No sponsors would dare support such a wimpy girl who did nothing but cry even though she'd volunteered. The thought made Troy smile as he found his way to his own room.

XX

Chloe's first view of the Capitol brought a familiar tune to her head, and she couldn't stop herself from singing along softly. The song was one that she'd learned from a man back in District 6 who'd fought in the rebellion. Apparently they'd sung it a lot back in the day to make fun of the Capitol. Chloe thought the Capitol citizens surrounding her probably wouldn't be too happy with her if they heard it, but it brought comfort to her as memories entered her thoughts.

Kahner's frown only deepened as he realized just what it was she was singing. He'd been strangely distant the entire train ride. He stayed by Chloe's side often, but he never spoke. Even now he was standing quietly by her as they watched the large city come into view. Chloe wanted to reach out and take his hand in comfort, but the look on his face scared her. So she stuck with her singing.

XX

Nobody bothered to really explain what was happening to Emilia and Ezra. The two District 10 tributes were ushered off the train and off to this strange room where people began poking around their bodies and doing the strangest things.

Emilia had seen a couple of the slightly better off girls in District 10 wear make up before, but she wasn't even sure if the things being put on her qualified as make up. The people surrounding her had so many different tools designed to make her more beautiful, and she didn't have a clue what most of them did. All the eighteen-year-old could do was watch them work in amazement. Even after seeing the Capitol citizens on television all of these years, she'd never known that this was how they altered their appearances so significantly.

Ezra wasn't as cool and collected as his prep team prepared him for what was to come. The young boy squirmed as they brought make up to his face, not wanting to be covered with the foreign substances. The people were forced to hold him down and apply it by force. Not only was Ezra going to die, but apparently he was going to do so as an entirely different, much too "perfect" person.

XX

Tifanee stuck close to Demetrius' side as their stylists put the finishing touches on their horrendous farmer costumes. Tifanee thought they looked like one of those ridiculous scarecrows that people people in the past were convinced scared away birds, but she didn't say this out-loud. She didn't want to get on anyone's bad side.

She hadn't left Demetrius the entire ride to the Capitol, and it had been difficult to hold back the tears when she was forced from his side upon reaching the city. Demetrius seemed to understand. At any rate, he didn't seem bothered by the younger girl's presence, and he had almost seemed relieved when they were reunited just moments ago.

Demetrius didn't like the fact that he was letting himself get attached to Tifanee. Sure they'd known each other before, but they'd never been particularly close. One thing was for certain though: neither one of them was cut out for this. They shouldn't have been here. He may have only been one year older, but Demetrius wanted to help Tifanee in any way he could. He just wished it wouldn't come back to haunt him.

XX

“You better not panic on me,” Coale growled at Fayth as they were ushered onto their chariot for the tribute parade.

Fayth wanted to glare at him and make some snappy comeback, but her trembling hands and nauseous stomach didn't exactly up her confidence. “So many people,” she whined too quietly for the cold boy to hear.

It was hard for her to climb up onto the chariot with her sweaty palms slipping across the metal, but somehow she managed it with no help from her district partner. They were dressed as coal miners, and Fayth wished she could go hide somewhere before she looked even more like a fool after her panic attack at the reaping. There was no way this would help her get sponsors. She was doomed. Why couldn't they just let her hide until throwing her to her inevitable death?

Coale didn't seem happy about this either, but at least he was handling it better. Fayth had no doubt that some sponsors would appreciate his ever present frown. It was much more threatening than her own terrified expression, even if it didn't inspire warm feelings in audiences.

XX

Her connection to Jaylon was a weakness. Cassidee had known that from the moment his name was drawn. It would have been far easier for her to shove him away now instead of pretending like she could protect him from everything in the arena, but she couldn't. Every time Cassidee looked at the younger boy all she could think about was how he was her little brother's best friend. She couldn't think about Ezekiel's face if he thought his sister had been somehow responsible for his best friend's death. And for that reason alone, Cassidee gripped the young boy's hand tightly as their chariot rolled past the vast crowd of Capitol citizens.

As usual, their costumes were horrendous. District 5 didn't really give its stylists much to work with being the district in charge of power. Cassidee and Jaylon were clad only in leotards with a jumble of different types of electrical cords wrapping their way around their bodies.

Jaylon was stiff next to her, and Cassidee could feel the sweat on his palms. She tried to appear open and friendly as she waved at the people around her. Jaylon just looked like he was about to puke. Despite her gut telling her it was a bad idea, Cassidee squeezed his hand in the most reassuring way possible. The least she could do was make the boy feel as if he had some companionship in the last few days before his inevitable death.

XX

Ahnette knew what Gerald was trying to do, and there was no way she was playing along with it. He'd hardly said two words to her during the train ride to the Capitol, although she'd caught him staring several times. That was nothing new. Ahnette was used to boys staring at her. As soon as their chariot had come into sight though, Gerald was suddenly looking at her with an odd look in his eye.

Ahnette had a few hazy memories of two tributes trying to play the “hopelessly in love” card during the second games, and she was not going down that route. She thought they'd looked more ridiculous than in love, and she was not going to look like an idiot in front of all of Panem. Gerald ignored her glares during the parade, even being so bold as to reach for her hand which she'd instantly jerked away.

“Leave me the fuck alone!” she screeched as they finally left the spotlight. Ahnette knew that Gerald had no choice but to be in her presence at the moment as they were being led to the apartment where they'd be spending the next several days, but it felt good to let her anger out.

“I'm trying to save us,” Gerald growled. “The lovers story could work if you just gave it a chance. It's not as if it'll be hard to pull off. You're attractive enough that no guy watching is going to doubt that I'd want in your pants.”

Any tiny bit of Ahnette that may have been softened at the compliment immediately hardened again at the phrase “want in your pants.” “Jerk,” she muttered angrily as she pushed past Gerald to walk beside their escort, who was doing her best to ignore the teens' argument. It was going to be a long few days.

XX

“Here's where you'll be staying during your time in the Capitol,” the escort trilled as he led them through the doors.

The two District 3 tributes stared around in wonder. Even coming from one of the wealthier districts, neither one of the teens had seen something like this. Kendrick, always eager to learn more about electronics, was drawn the the high-tech television taking up a large wall that was one of the first things noticed upon entering the large apartment. He had seen these being prepared in a factory before, but he'd never been able to actually use one. Kendrick immediately set to work discovering everything it could do.

Mina, much less intrigued by the television but not having anything else to do, took a seat on the sofa to watch her older district partner at work. This grew frustrating, however, because the second she started to figure out what was happening on the screen, Kendrick had hit some new button just to see what it would do. Growling in frustration, the young girl went to investigate her bedroom instead.

XX

“I'm not killing anyone.” Joelle turned to glare at Bryan, who had snickered upon hearing her words. “I'm not,” she repeated firmly. “I'd rather die than become a murderer.”

“Whatever you want,” Bryan shrugged. He sent her a smile that Joelle figured would probably have most girls bowing to his every whim. “One less tribute for me to worry about.” He smirked at her for a moment before adding, “Although, I'm not too sure that'll be true.”

“What do you mean?” Joelle snapped.

“I think you'll kill or at least die trying.”

“I'm not a sick monster!” Joelle rose to her feet in fury.

“Neither are any of us,” Bryan leaned forward and looked Joelle in the eyes. “But you get in that arena, and your survival instinct takes over. You're not an angel, Joelle. You're a human like the rest of us, and humans, like every other animal, do what they have to in order to survive no matter the costs. Some people like to pretend that the brain's something complicated that can be puzzled about for days, but when it comes down to it, the brain has a pretty simple function: survival.”

The Fourth Hunger Games Chapter 2: Last Hope

Chapter 2: Last Hope

“You don't forget the face of the person who was your last hope.” - Katniss Everdeen, The Hunger Games by Suzanne Collins

“Optimism is inevitably the last hope of the defeated.” - Albert Meltzer

“Why? Why did you do that?” Mrs. Abercrombie seemed unable to stop her incessant questioning. The same question was repeated over and over, not even allowing Brianne enough time to answer.

“We wanted you to be safe if you were forced into the arena,” Mr. Abercrombie spoke over his wife's ceaseless mutterings. “You were never meant to volunteer!”

Brianne knew that her father's anger came out of his worry for her. He knew that he'd just lost his daughter for good. Brianne wanted to curl up in a ball and just die. It was destined to happen later anyway. She couldn't handle her parents' reactions. Even though she'd seen this coming, she hadn't been prepared.

“I'll have a word with the man.” Brianne knew that her father was speaking of Kodanda. “This is all his fault! He will pay for this. I'll see to it. That man had no right to suggest anything to you when we forbid him from doing this. No right!”

Brianne knew that her father's threats were useless. Kodanda was well respected for his status as victor. He had plenty of students under his control. Nothing Brianne's father could say about the man would change anything, and Brianne's death would bring nothing to Kodanda except a brief disappointment that the current victor wasn't one of his students.

So caught up in their emotions were they that neither of Brianne's parents were able to say goodbye before being whisked out of the room by peacekeepers. Brianne was left utterly alone without one ounce of comfort from either of her parents..

XX

Troy expected the cold firmness of his parents' dispositions upon being allowed to see them. They'd resigned themselves to what he must do long ago. Troy figured his mother had held onto a small bit of hope that he wouldn't go through with it, but she was too proud to reveal this now. She offered nothing more than a stiff hug and a warning that he'd better do his best. His father wished him luck and said that he knew he would win. "There is no competition really."

Troy wasn't sure if his father really believed this, but he figured he was better off not questioning it. He would win. Troy was sure of it. He'd been well trained, and he had no intention of letting his parents or the district down. He dismissed the wishes of good luck. Luck was useless. Things like hope and luck would get him no where. But he had the skill to win. He knew it. For that reason, he allowed himself no tears while bidding farewell to his parents and the select few friends who had bothered to come. There was no need. He was determined to see them later, and sadness would do nothing but hinder him.

XX

“Mom!” Alissah exclaimed as the woman, with tears flowing down her face, smothered her with hugs. “Calm down.”

“I can't help it, Alissah!” The woman's voice was full of emotion. “Losing your father during the rebellion was one of the hardest things I've ever had to go through, and now you're going off to fight in these games. My little baby girl.”

Mrs. Vasser went to wrap her arms around Alissah again, but the girl wiggled her way out and exclaimed, “Mom!” yet again.

“Dad was loyal to the Capitol until his dying breath,” Alissah reminded her mother. “He fought hard for Panem, and I don't intend to let him down. I'm doing this proudly. I'll fight just as hard as he did.”

“Let's just hope for a better outcome then,” Mrs. Vasser sobbed as she finally got her arms around her daughter and refused to let go.

XX

“You'll do well, son,” Mr. Sherman clapped Huntur on the shoulder. A bit of sadness shone through his eyes, but the man seemed determined not to crack in front of his son. He knew that this was his son's dream, and he would never think of stopping him. Still, he couldn't help getting a little emotional. Mr. Sherman had a lot of faith in his son's abilities, but a father had to be a little worried about whether or not his son would make it.

Mrs. Sherman wasn't faring quite so well. Silent tears were streaming down her cheeks, but she seemed determined to ignore them. Instead, she stepped forward and embraced her son tightly.

“You'll do well,” she spoke in a tight voice. “I know you will.”

“You'd better.” Mr. Sherman's words were full of emotion, as if he was losing his battle against tears.

“I will,” Huntur assured them while forcing himself to stay positive. “I promise.”

XX

No words were exchanged as Mina said goodbye to her friends and family. Her mother and father looked upon her with tearful looks that were impossible to hide. She wasn't coming back, and they all knew it. Her two closest friends were a bit better at hiding their emotions, but Mina could tell by a certain look in their eyes that they knew she wasn't coming back either. Embraces were exchanged. Words seemed useless. There was nothing they could do but offer false comfort. Mina was doomed, and her friends and family were helpless to save her.

XX

“You'll have to outsmart them.” Mr. Jobs spoke matter-of-factly with only a hint of emotion showing through his voice. “It's the only chance you've got.”

Kendrick's family didn't handle emotions well. It wasn't that they were ashamed or anything. No, they were just a bit awkward about affection, and comforting each other wasn't really something they did. Now Mrs. Jobs was sobbing on the other side of of the room, and Kendrick was at a complete loss as to what to do. His father seemed determined to ignore her, at least for the moment, as he hid his own emotions by talking instead of Kendrick's chances like they were discussing a random tribute from a past games in their living room. If Kendrick hadn't known that rational discussion was how his father kept his emotions in check, he may have worried that he didn't care.

It was far too soon when a peacekeeper entered to take his parents away. Mr. Jobs' emotional wall seemed to break slightly as he embraced his son in a tight hug. Mrs. Jobs rushed over from the couch she'd been crying on to join the family embrace. It was the only time Kendrick could remember getting such physical affection from his parents. He just wished it wasn't going to be the last.

XX

Tiara's father had always been a rather stern man, at least as long as Tiara had known him. Tiara had heard time and time again that he'd been much different before her mother died, but Tiara would never know for sure, since she hadn't been around back then. She was pretty sure that he blamed her for her mother's death, and to be completely honest, she didn't resent him for that because she blamed herself too.

Dying during childbirth wasn't an unknown occurrence in Panem. There wasn't a hospital that you could rush to in District 4 if things went wrong. It was just unfortunate that Tiara's birth had been one of those where things went wrong. She'd been told over and over again that it was just bad luck, but both her and her father knew better. Tiara knew she couldn't have done anything to save her mother as a helpless infant, but the fact still remained that, if she wasn't here, her mother would be. Maybe it was that thought that drove her to train for the games. The thought of dying didn't phase her the way it apparently did others. She might as well go out with a bang, especially if the reward for staying alive was as great as it was.

Her father had been rather uncaring when she asked him to pay for the training. Mr. King had grumbled about the expenses, but they were well enough off that they still had enough to live off of in relative comfort. Tiara got the feeling that her father actually liked the idea of her going into the games. The money and glory of her winning would help ease the pain of having a daughter who had murdered her mother, and if she died, that wasn't of much concern to him anyway.

Tiara's suspicions seemed to be confirmed as her father came to bid her farewell. A stiff, awkward hug, and a “good luck” where all that she received. She almost called out to him as he went back out the door, not bothering to wait for a peacekeeper to fetch him, but she quelled the temptation. She had even more resolve now. She would win, and then her father could surround himself with riches to forget that his daughter was a killer.

XX

“I'm not expecting to win this, Dad,” Boston snapped at his father. He didn't want useless words of comfort. He was going to die, and it was better that he just accept that now.

“You don't know what will happen,” his mother implored with a distressed expression marring her face. “What about that one year where that little girl made it through? She didn't have many skills at the beginning, but she made it.”

“Yeah, because no one wanted to attack a twelve year old girl,” Boston rolled his eyes. “It won't be like that with me. An eighteen year old boy? Everyone will be going after me.”

Boston leaned back against the wall and buried his face in his hands. Neither of his parents said anything, but he soon felt his mother wrapping her arms around him.

“Just try,” she whispered. “That's all we ask.”

XX

“I don't want you to go in the games!”

Cassidee's younger brother had latched onto her the minute he was through the door.

“I have to, Ezekiel. They drew my name. You know I have no choice.” Cassidee knew that any comfort she could offer her brother was useless. The twelve-year-old couldn't be reasoned with, and nothing she could say would change the fact that he was about to go through his worst nightmare. He continued to wail into Cassidee's chest, and she made no attempts to calm him with words. Instead, she wrapped her arms around him and let him cry. She knew it would be the last time she was able to hold him, and that thought made her relish the moment.

Neither of her parents said a word. For a few moments they just watched their children from afar with utter sadness showing on their faces. Then, Mr. and Mrs. Powers wordlessly stepped forward and wrapped their own arms around their children.

XX

“You'll be with Cassidee,” Mrs. Arlington assured her son. “She'll protect you and keep you safe. I know she will.”

Mr. Arlington looked disparagingly as his wife. Not bothering to shield Jaylon from his words, he spoke, “Don't give him false hope! That girl may try to help at first, but she wants to win just as much as everyone else. Besides, what good will she do. We both know she's not going to be the victor!”

“Shut up!” Mrs. Arlington exclaimed as she pushed her husband to the side and turned her attention back to her son, who had been watching the exchange with fear in his eyes. “You'll be all right, sweetheart. Just stick to Cassidee and try your best. We love you, okay?” It was then that she dissolved into tears and gripped her son tightly. Jaylon buried his face into her neck and began crying as well. Mr. Arlington's tough exterior finally evaporated as he took his wife and son into his arms and his own tears began to escape.

XX

Mrs. Faden gripped Chloe tight. “I love you,” she whispered into the young girl's hair. Chloe responded with the same words but was unable to speak any more as the tears bubbled over. She began struggling through a song Mrs. Faden had sang to her when she was small. The same song that had been running through her head during the reaping. The familiar lyrics caused Mrs. Faden's grip on Chloe to tighten. The small family stayed in their embrace until the peacekeepers came to take Mrs. Faden away.

XX

“Promise me you'll try your hardest,” Mrs. Kid pleaded with her son. “And stay with Chloe as long as possible. You both need a friend now more than ever.”

Kahner turned angrily towards his mother. “A friend!? I can't have a friend now. That privilege has been taken from me. Everyone in that arena will be my enemy, even Chloe. I don't care about past friendships. If I don't kill her first, she'll kill me.”

Mrs. Kid looked sadly at her son. “You've been forced into a terrible situation, but don't let it turn you into a monster, son. There's a difference between cold-blooded killing and surviving. Remember that.”

Kahner turned away from his mother, not even looking back at her when the peacekeeper came to take her away.

XX

Joelle discreetly glanced up at her mother, father, and siblings as they prayed. It was traditional to keep your head bowed at such moments, but Joelle wanted to memorize her family before she was taken away forever. Prayer was typically when Joelle felt most peaceful, but today the faces of all those around her were marred by grief. How many times they had prayed just like this for an end to the games, and now one of them was going into the games themselves.

“Lord, please bless Joelle.” At the sound of her name, Joelle tuned back in to what her father was saying. “Help her stay strong in faith while in the arena, and guide her and help her achieve her purpose. We know that there is a reason behind her reaping. Help her discover what that is.”

Tears began streaking down Joelle's face as she silently agreed with her father's words.

XX

“I have no doubt that you'll be able to get sponsors,” Mr. Kennedy lectured his son as the sat in the Justice Building. His arm was around Bryan's shoulders, and he looked sadder than Bryan had ever seen him. “Sponsors are helpful, but they aren't the only key to winning. I think your best bet would be to join an alliance. You make friends easily enough. Get people willing to help you, and only leave the alliance when you think you can make it on your own. It's your best bet.”

Bryan nodded woodenly at his father's words. He appreciated the advice, but he didn't want to be talking about this. He didn't want to be in this position in the first place. His mother was sobbing horribly at his other side, and Bryan had a line of friends outside waiting to see him. For the first time in his life, he didn't know how to handle the people around him. He didn't know what to say.

XX

Mr. Phyrne spoke no words as he stepped forward and embraced Ahnette. It had only been the two of them since Ahnette's mother died during the rebellion, and now Mr. Phyrne was losing his daughter as well. Ahnette sobbed into her father's shoulder. No words were spoken until the peacekeeper came to take Mr. Phyrne away.

“Good bye, sweetheart,” Mr. Phyrne whispered as was pulled from the room. Ahnette sobbed even harder.

XX

“I'll try my hardest, Mom,” Gerald murmered to his mother as he gripped her tightly. Mrs. Chayse refused to let go of her son, even to let her husband say goodbye to him. Mr. Chayse contented himself with patting his son on the back as he tried to control his cries.

Mr. Chayse had always been awkward about physical affection, but Gerald appreciated the effort his father was making. It wasn't a crushing hug, but at least his father was there and cared. This was the first time Gerald had ever seen his father cry, and that was a sight he could have lived his whole life without seeing.

XX

“All I've been raised to do is harvest wheat!” Jocelin screamed at her shell-shocked parents. Her two younger siblings had been cowering behind their parents since they entered the room and heard Jocelin's screams. Mrs. Aurora could do nothing but stand in shock and fear at her daughter's screams. There were silent tears streaming down her face.

“Why did you have us!?” Jocelin accused her parents as she gestered to herelf and the two younger children that were staring at her in shock. “You knew this would happen!”

Jocelin collapsed on the couch with her face in her hands. “I'm only thirteen! Thirteen! This isn't supposed to be happening. It isn't.” Her screams got softer, but were no less filled with emotion. Mrs. Aurora took the opportunity to step forward and hug her daughter fiercely.

“I'm sorry,” she whispered into her daughter's ear, and for the first time since entering the room, Jocelin didn't bother to respond.

XX

Etin had never seen his father look so shocked in his life. As far as Mr. Faal was concerned, this wasn't supposed to happen to his family. They were too good for the games. It sickened Etin. He'd watched his father observe the games with no emotion for the past three years. It wasn't his family being punished because Mr. Faal had remained loyal to the Capitol during the rebellion, which had led to his relatively wealthy lifestyle. His children wouldn't be chosen in the games. The games weren't his problem.

Now that feeling of security had been taken away from him, and Etin was watching his father's beliefs come crashing down around him. The very Capitol that Mr. Faal had trusted to keep him safe was now taking his only son. Etin wasn't stupid. He knew that his father had always favored him over his sister. Only Etin could carry on the family name. Etin figured that as soon as they watched his death from their comfortable home, his parents would begin work on having a new son to take Etin's place. After all, it wasn't him they'd be missing. It was their familial namesake that they wanted.

Etin clenched his fists as fury filled him. His only comfort being his older sister's soft hand on his shoulder. The only one who was hopeful for Etin's return was the girl sitting beside him, and she was the only thing that made the boy want to push to win.

XX

“People aren't that different from animals really.” Emilia wrung her hands as she paced back and forth. Her father was watching closely from several feet away.

“I suppose that's one way of looking at it,” Mr. Arnout spoke softly.

“What other way am I supposed to look at it!?” Emilia suddenly cried as she whirled around to face her father. “I have no choice but to kill now! How else am I supposed to look at it!?”

Mr. Arnout looked shocked at the outburst, but once Emilia had collapsed on the floor in tears, he kneeled down to wrap her in his arms.

“Just think about it that way, sweetheart,” he whispered into her hair. “Just think about it that way.”

XX

Ezra could tell that his parents had no hope of him returning. They'd always been slightly ashamed of him. It was one of those things that Ezra had always known on some level, but it had taken him until he was eleven to fully realize it.

Ezra Barton who tried to nurse a bird back to health when none of the other kids cared. That was what he was known for in District 10. A boy too sensitive for his own good. He'd grown up caring far too much for the animals they had to raise for slaughter. Even at fourteen, he was unable to watch the slaughterings because he couldn't stomach it. How was he supposed to kill people when he couldn't kill a simple animal?

Mrs. Barton wrapped an arm around her son's shoulders as he cried. Mr. Barton stood above them, looking as if he wanted to protect his son from what he must face but not knowing how. Mr. Barton has always struggled as to how to handle Ezra. He'd never seen a male child so shaken by suffering, and now that very same child was going to have to become a murderer or be murdered.

XX

“You can't pull any more stunts like you did earlier during the reaping,” Mr. Timotheus preached to his daughter, who sat wimpering in her mother's arms.

“I won't, Dad,” Tifanee cried. “I was just scared. It won't happen again.”

Mr. Timotheus' stern facade vanished as he looked down at his tearful young daughter. He took a seat on her other side and rubbed her back to offer her any ounce of hope that he could spare. Her face remained buried in her mother's neck, not once looking up. It was as if she was trying to escape the cruel world that had thrust her into this position, even though she knew that it was useless.

XX

Ms. Iver wasted no time in throwing her arms around Demetrius as soon as she was allowed in the room. Tears shone in her eyes, but she was successfully stifling them for the moment.

“Do what you must,” she muttered into her son's hair. At the age of fourteen, he was just beginning to surpass her in height. Demetrius' growth had been a bit dismaying to her as she watched him gradually become a teenager. Now she was forced to think about the fact that he would never grow any taller. “But don't lose yourself. That's all I ask.”

Demetrius tried to reply, but all that came out were sobs. He forgot all attempts at speaking as he broke down in his mother's arms for the last time.

XX

After a while it became increasingly obvious to Fayth that no one was going to come see her off. It was to be expected. She'd never had any family, let alone friends. Having every one of your family members die in the rebellion and having to grow up in an orphanage didn't exactly help you make friends. On top of that, Fayth had been living with panic attacks for as long as she could remember. No one wanted to associate with someone who regularly panicked over seemingly nothing.

Fayth didn't blame them really. If she was one of those other kids, she wouldn't have befriended herself either. She heard the whispers. Kids at school, and even in the orphanage, were always joking about, “that Ammadon girl.”

Maybe being sent into the games was a good thing. She would have lived her life alone anyway. This way there would be no more panic attacks. No more getting made fun of by others. No more suffering. If she could just get through the next few days, it could all be over. Fayth thought she might like that, and for the first time since she woke up that morning, she didn't feel like panicking. She just felt calm. Hopeful almost.

XX

“It's what you've always wanted,” Coale grit out at his father. “One less mouth to feed. Less tesserae to take.”

“Don't talk like that!” Mr. Marcellus yelled at his oldest son. It was silent for a moment before the man continued in a choked voice. “I know that you're angry, and you have every right to be. But I didn't ask for this. I never wanted you to have to go into these games.”

“You did though,” Coale stared at the ground. “You asked for it when you had me and the others.”

“There were no games when we had you four,” Mr. Marcellus was pleading with his son, not wanting their last conversation to be a fight.

“As if living in District 12 before the rebellion would have been much better,” Coale snorted. “Why aren't they here now? Don't want to send their big brother off to die?”

“I thought it would be better if they didn't see you like this. I don't want this to be their last memory of you.”

Coale finally looked coldly up at his father. “Just make sure this doesn't happen to any of them. They'll have watched both Mom and me die now. If you let anything else happen to them-”

Coale was silenced by his father firmly gripping his shoulder. They were silent for a moment before Mr. Marcellus pulled Coale to his chest. Neither one shed any tears, but Coale could just barely make out the, “I love you, son,” that his father muttered before being pulled from the room.