Hello everyone! My name is DrewlovesKuinn, however I was here three months ago before I was blocked, and started here in may! My original name was Mysims, and I wrote twelve completed games before my block. None of which I have the intention of finishing. So take them if you want.
I know I'm against things which are not related to the series at all, because there is a game for everything now. Swimming, Olympics (no hate to those authors, by the way) and I'm not all for it. But before you judge by the title, this is infact a games.
And this games will rock your world. I bet you.
But these games will have a twist, I mean, what's a Mysims game without them?
The twist here will be the same twist for all of the seasons. But each season will have a new twist, carrying on with the last one until the fifth and final one has five twists. I'm being very strict this time. I want the best characters you can form, if I think you've slacked on anything! Trust me, I'm harsh.
You may want to know that this takes place during the 100th-110th time period, with a game being every two years, and therefore all of my characters from that time period (Arabesque, Kazzaman, The Lisbustens and Assains, Robalyn, Dizragon and many more) will all be featured here, so if anyone crops up that you don't know. It's them.
No one really knows all that much about Arabesque Lisbusten. Sure, they know he's the head gamemaker and that he's the son of Chasse Lisbusten, the president of Panem. But they don't really know much about him on the inside.
That's why he planned these games.
He and his wife Eleve, along with his gamemakers, Katerina, Robalyn, Kazzaman and Dizragon pondered for hours upon hours, hours turned to days, days turned to weeks. Katerina was the first to back out, on week three, knowing that this was too hard to continue with.
Only Robalyn and Kazzaman stayed to the end, even Eleve bailed, but finally, one night when Kazzaman was lighting the fire for yet another night in the cold, airtight bunker in which the gamemakers planned.
Don't play with fire; Play with the games.
And so it was born.
- All tributes must have some kind of minority about them. For those who do not know what I mean by minority, I mean someone who does not fall into the category of "normal" or "socially acceptable", or someone who's kind is just in short form in Panem. For example, Homosexuals, Mentally/Physically Handicapped, Black people. Just a reminder that I am in NO WAY against these people, I just find this a good twist.
Ordered in most important to least important.
- Tributes must be brand new, I will not accept them if they have been in ANY game on ANY wiki, which includes THGRP. I will search them on "blogs" in the search bar. I am vicious about this.
- Quality. They have to stick to the guidelines or they will get a big "Denied" stamp on the submission. I am very serious.
- Support. As for I, I do NOT want advice. If you give advice, I will merely not read it and perhaps kill your tribute. I am against advice, however by support I do mean, support ME. I find it hard to keep morale.
- Common Sense. Do I have to explain this?
- Try to take both of the same District, not forced to, but recommended.
There are some exceptions.
You can change names of a used tribute, but it'll have less of a chance.
IIII: Tributes and Templates:
Training Score Guidelines:
|District 1 (Luxury) Male:||Ernie Black, 18||5'10 (Dirty blonde hair, brown eyes)||Steel Claws||Mute||AxedFox|
|District 1 (Luxury) Female:||Annabella Esmerelda, 16||5'6 (Long, curly blonde hair, Bright blue eyes)||Long Knives, Swords||Homosexual||AxedFox|
|Disrict 2 (Masonry) Male:||Mason Spartan, 17||6'1 (Long black hair, pale skin, has no eyes)||Wooden Staff||Blind||Hybrid Shadow|
|District 2 (Masonry) Female:||Abigail "Gail" McMillian, 17||5'6 (Long brown hair, tannish, vivid blue eyes)||Spear||Lesbian||TheDeadlyOne|
|District 3 (Electronics) Male:||Maximus Ajax||Ninja~Toast|
|District 3 (Electronics) Female:||Astrid Mae, 16||5'7 (Short, messy, amber hair, hazel eyes. Porcelain skin)||Knife||Autism and Mulitple Personalities disorder||Ninja~Toast|
|District 4 (Fishing) Male:||Catar Racta||The Boy With The Pikachu Tattoo|
|District 4 (Fishing) Female:||Cerah Kraystead, 17||5'7 (Tanned skin, gray eyes, chocolate coloured eyes)||Axe, spear or Trident||Physically Different (Missing her left arm)||Happy Meadows|
|District 5 (Power) Male:|
|District 5 (Power) Female:||Allana Darkbloom||Nommyzombies|
|District 6 (Transportation) Male:||Ramus Virga, 15||5'11 (Long brown hair, pale green eyes and tannish skin)||Knife/Dagger||Mentally Challenged||The Boy With The Pikachu Tattoo|
|District 6 (Transportation) Female:||Harriet Tussauds, 17||5'3 (Brown, mousy hair, pale skin, freckles, blue eyes)||Knives||Bisexual/Bipolar||TheMysteriousGeek|
|District 7 (Lumber) Male:||Rhys Stolt, 18||6'1 (Ocean blue eyes, tanned, creamy skin, brownish hair)||Axe, Sword or Spear at long range||Homosexual||Happy Meadows|
|District 7 (Lumber) Female:||Katarin Marita "KM" Lao, 18||5'3 (Asian, coffee/chocolate brown eyes, brown hair)||Axes, knives. Sometimes a bow and arrow||Ethnically Different (of Chinese decent)||Happy Meadows|
|District 8 (Textiles) Male:||Jason Frew, 14||5'6 (Sandy blonde hair, tannned skin, turquoise eyes)||Knife||Phyiscally Different (missing left leg)||Thena.airice14|
|District 8 (Textiles) Female:||Esme-Rose Crayer, 16||5'4 (Dark skin, dark eyes and black hair)||No paticular weapon||Ethnically Different (Black)||Thena.airice14|
|District 9 (Grain) Male:||Dustin Varrel||Cloveismywife|
|District 9 (Grain) Female:||Shannon Varrel||Cloveismywife|
|District 10 (Livestock) Male:||Javan Rino, 15||The Boy With The Pikachu Tattoo|
|District 10 (Livestock) Female:||Alira Lydon, 16||5'5 (Dark, curly hair, tanned skin, dark green eyes)||Awl and spears||Criminal (Prostitute)||Annamisasa|
|District 11 (Agriculture) Male:||Casper Noturn, 18||6'0 (Pale skin, light blue hair with pink highlights, green eyes)||Bows and arrows, decent with knives as well||Homosexual||ViniciusDeAssis1999|
|District 11 (Agriculture) Female:||Medeleine "Medusa" Serpent, 15||5'6 (Dark green hair with black lowlights, emerald green eyes)||Throwing knives and axes, machete||Mental Incapabilities||ViniciusDeAssis1999|
|District 12 (Coal/Mining) Male:||Ignis Carbo, 14||The Boy With The Pikachu Tattoo|
|District 12 (Coal/Mining) Female:||Detria Glass||Annamisasa|
The tribute I like the most get's the POV. If I dislike both of the tributes or like them equally, I will write it from from a random POV or third person.
District 1 (Annabella's POV)
Lesbian. That word . . . it's like a plague that surrounds me, every moment of every minute of every day. It's not like I would let anyone call me that to my face, but it's not the namecalling that hurts me. I can take it when I'm in the mood, but I'm not afraid to cut someone if they get in my way. Not that anyone would dare to call it to my face . . . just what they would say behind my back . . . But I can't let that get in my way, for if I did, what would I be? It's stupid to let what anyone thinks effect me. Or at least let them know it effects me. I, unlike many other in my life, have a reputation to uphold.
My dormitory in the Career School isn't like the other girls. When the semester started, several girls went up to the Head Trainer and formally requested that I would not be in a dorm with any of the other girls. Because I'm a lesbian. It's stupid the amount of homophobia they let slide here. I can't walk down the halls for one day, without being egged or called some disgusting name.
Except for Dianne. She's been there for me since the start. She knows I'm bad, socially, but she doesn't care. She lets me hang around with her even if it would decrease her reputation. She's told me her biggest secret too, she's a lesbian as well. My lover actually. But of course, we can't let anyone know she's a lesbian. Not only would everyone at the School hate her, but her parents would disown her.
Homophobic parents, huh? Nothing really good happens to me and Dianne. She had to stay in the dormitory with the other girls while I'm forced to sleep out in the corridors. Seriously, I don't know what their problems are. Just because I like girls doesn't mean that I'm totally crazy around each and every single girl. Dianne does help me through that, but sometimes I just lose my temper.
Like last time, I wasn't prepared for that.
It was around mid-october and I was in the sports hall by myself, just throwing my knives across my room like I normally do. Just letting the control I had over the knives flow out of me and letting the anger go. Just keeping calm. The knives were a metallic silver, platinum to be exact. Each one was exactly five and a half inches long, plated with a gold handle and curve at the tip to help it sink into the target.
The girls cornered me. I didn't hear them at first, I was too engrossed in my knife throwing, but there was three of them. One was called Olivia, the other Bethany and the third Arabella. I don't know what made me turn round, perhaps I heard them, maybe some subconcious way to tell me I was in grave danger, but if I didn't turn round at that moment, I would be dead.
As I spun round, Olivia thrust her knife upwards towards my throat. I almost yelped in suprise, but I snapped my head back and the knife barely grazed my chin. Blood began to trickle down onto my neck as I dived left.
"Damn you! Go to hell fag!" screamed Bethany at me as she stabbed down at my leg. It bit into the flesh and I remember kicking my leg up, whacking her in the chest.
I grabbed my knives as fast as I could and threw them wildly while sprinting at the knocked down Bethany. As soon as I reached her, Arabella kicked me in the small of the back and I felt myself tumble down on top of Bethany, and therefore stabbing myself with the knife I was holding.
My white vest tore and the knife dug deep through the flesh and glanced one of my ribs. Normally I would try to bite my lip, but stabbed in the stomach? No way! I screamed like a freaking banshee. Arabella covered her ears and dropped to her knees as her eardrums literally shattered.
I wrenched the knife out of my bloodstained vest and threw it at her. A loud groan as it hit my target perfectly in the throat. Arabella spasmed there on the floor as the blood wept from her gaping wound, flooding the floor and staning the white marble a vicious red.
"You bitch!" screamed Olivia as she slashed her knife at me again, I grabbed one of my other knives with my right hand and used my left to block the attack, but to no avail. The knife ripped into the side of my arm, not quite hitting the bone or digging that far in. But by lord it hurt!
"Fuck! You!" I said in exasperated breaths as I jabbed my arm up to stab her. Olivia parried and the knife rammed straight between the ribs of poor Bethany who had just fought her way to her feet. Bethany crumbled, pale and unmoving, a bleeding ravine in her chest.
"You... you killed them! You fucking lesbo!" Olivia screamed at me. In utter rage, I bared my teeth and sunk my knife deep into her thigh. Severing the artery in there.
"Bitch!" she screamed as I walked over to her. I lifted my hand to my mouth and wiped away the blood that remained there and spat it down on Olivia. She winced, but she was in enough pain already.
"If there really is a God, and I really am going to hell. I guess I'll see you there." I announced with a sadistic grin, before raising my foot over her face.
"No!" she screamed, a second too late. I brought my boot crashing down and felt her nose and skull shatter under the impact. She screamed brutally and I couldn't help but feel a second of remorse as I lifted my boot a final time and wrecked her brain and skull beyond repair.
I collapsed. Exhausted.
I looked around the room. Three corspes. One with a knife through their throat. Another with a hole right through their chest, and the final one with no face remaining. My clothes were covered in blood, my wounds in my chest and arm and face were still vicious and I was beginning to feel the pain, now that the adrenaline was wearing off.
"Fuck... How am I gonna explain this?" I whispered to myself.
I felt my life beginning to ebb away slightly as my essences leaked out of the wounds on my body. My hand cupped the one on my abdomen as I began to scatter backwards, seeing the blood trail drip excessively and paint the tiles a vivacious red.
"H-help..." I called out as my eyes fluttered shut. I tried to bare the pain but with each second it lasted it was getting more and more impossible to deal with. I heard footsteps from the other gym, running towards me, as my eyes shut.
"Annabella!" screamed a voice as the darkness enveloped me and I leaked out of conciouness.
The next morning I woke up in a sterile, white, hospital bed. I could tell from the uncomfortable pillows, the light pink decals on the duvet and the flowerly scent in the air that this was in fact our school's infirmary. Matron Lynch was walking, more like creeping, up and down the hall. Past the other three empty beds and mine at the far right.
"What happened?" I asked. Looking up at her with no emotions. My memory felt utterly zapped and I could barely muster the energy to move my lips to form that setence. My voice sounded croaky and horrid.
"You were stabbed. Once in the stomach, once in the arm. You were found in a pool of blood along with three other girls." said the Matron matter-of-factly, not looking even my way. Her hooked nose glaring down at me with more vigour than her eyes.
"Three others?" I choked out, my memory beginnning to come back.
"Arabella Richmond, Bethany Nike and Olivia Read are all dead. Lying in the same pool of blood as you were."
My heart leaped when I finally realized what I had done. I had killed three girls.
"But... why?" I asked the Matron. But I already knew the answer.
"The cameras in the dormitory and the gym say that they were planning to kill you for your... sexuality." With that final word, she gave me a look of disgust and turned away. Leaving me lying in the bed. Alone. I'd hug my knees up to my chest, but I would have blacked out from the pain.
"Annabella?" calls out Dianne as I blink, bringing myself back to reality. Staring out the window at the old willow tree outside. A young boy swang back and forth on the swing in the courtyard, the Matron's son. I turned round to meet Dianne's eyes.
"Yes?" I answered back. Looking into her eyes. Knowing I want to kiss her, but I can't. Not here.
"We have to get to the square, reapings, remember?" she said, her fingers snaking their way between my fingers and clasping them together. We're holding hands.
It may not seem like much to the average lesbian, but when you go to an all girls school, three people have tried to murder you and you have a closeted girlfriend... holding the hand of the one you love can be a very big thing.
"Come on. Lets go." I said, giving her a light kiss on the cheek. Before we both ran down the corridor, laughing as we reached the stairs. I leaped down all six on that part, but Dianne just walked.
"Don't spoil the fun!" I yelled up at her as she gave me a devilish grin, before leaping down the stairs and coming to a halt just in front of me. She looks into my eyes and leans closer to my face. Her ivory skin against my tan one. She clasps her hand in mine as I look up at her. Her head falls down ever so slightly and she captures me in a magnificent kiss.
Lips mash against lips in a frenzied kiss as my hands worked their way up her back, pulling her closer and getting more of her full lips. She cups either side of my face in her hands as she pulls back.
"I love you..." she mutters.
"What!?" screams the Matron as she runs down the stairs. Brandishing her cleaning rag (she works as a maid on the side for the extra cash).
"I... I-i!" flusters Dianne, blushing bright red. The matron looks at us both and then screams.
"Lesbians! Fags, get out!" she screams at a near crying Dianne and I. I bring my hands back up to my face and clench them into fists, before punching the matron right in the chest. She doubles back as I bring my foot up and kick. Dianne looks at me, jaw wide.
"Run!" I yell. She sprints down the other stairs, tears still falling madly as she knows she's going to be outed by the matron now. I follow her down the stairs as the matron tries to stand up, but we both make it quickly out of the school.
"I'll meet you at the square." I scream at Dianne as she boards a bus. The matron comes tumbling down the stairs as I leg it away from her. Her 64 year old legs aren't gonna catch up with me, so I manage to lose her pretty easily. I move over to a brick fence and collapse, crying.
The white cobbles mixed with the black bricks mark up and down the street elegantly, making the place seem nicer than it is. This place is overrated. They paint the tiles black or white and stick them everywhere. But right now, all I can do is feel sadness.
When did my life end up like this?
I don't know how long I sat there for, but by now the sun is right in the middle of the sky, I can tell it's probably midday. I somehow fight my way to my feet as I walk towards the bus stop. Before the thing hits me. Two things, actually.
One. Dianne's just been outed.
Two. It's the reaping. Right. Now.
"Damn!" I curse aloud as I realize that as I'm late for the reaping, I have a 100% higher chance of being killed. Because for not attending death will ensue.
I sprint for the square. It's a wonder what adrenaline can do to a person, a route that could normally take half an hour I completed in ten minutes and thirty four seconds. Ducking right under the barrier as the male peacekeeper began to close it.
"Hey! You!" he screams at me as I disappear into the crowd, fighting my way to Dianne, who I quickly clasp my hand with. She looks to me and smiles ever so slightly. Her eyes are puffy, red from crying. Her cheeks are a bright red and seem to be covered in tears. She leans in to kiss me and I slam my lips against hers.
"That's enough of that!" says the escort as she walks on, Luna Radcliffe. Long term escort for District 1, before Dianne and I were even born. She's also a renound homophobe. She looks at us with a disgusted look, her purple eyes shimmering with hate and rimmed with anger.
This girl is almost entirely purple. Her hair is purple, with undertones of black, her eyes. All her clothes too. Only her skin remains an ugly, pale white as she hunches discreetly (depsite her appearance) over the microphone. No one can lie that this woman is getting older every day.
"Right then, children, let's begin." she starts, her voice cracked and croaky, as if she had just had lead rammed down her throat. She sweeps her hair over her shoulder as she picks out the first card.
"As you all know, the twist this year is minorities! Meaning that... homosexuals," she chokes the word out as if she should need to be burned for saying it, "blacks, mentally and physically handicapped and others of their...," she searches for the right word...
I'm deadly serious when I say that this woman will end up dead if she doesn't stop it, despiciable to be a homophobe these days. Too many people are.
"Anyway, that basically halfs the entire population from a chance of going into the games! Yay for normal people!" she smiles, baring ugly, yellow teeth that hang like tombstones over her bottom lip. Her purple lipstick doing nothing to make the look any more discreet.
I look at Dianne once again, before looking up at Luna. Dianne grasps my arm, sensing I'm about to do something stupid.
"Don't do anything silly, I love you, remember." says Dianne.
What one would call stupid, another would call bravery.
"You think gay people are freaks?!" I scream up at Luna, she looks dumbfounded. How dare a citizen speak to a capitol citizen like that! As if, this bitch is getting what she deserves.
"I'll tell you who's a fucking freak you half-witted dumbass. You are! You and your kind with their bizarre looks and their weird voices and god knows what else. You say you hate gays, but we all know Luna Radcliffe. We all know you have a lesbian daughter!"
Luna looks taken aback, staggering over a mic stand. The entire district is quiet. No one moves a muscle until Luna manages to get to her feet. She walks closer to me as I feel her disgusting yellow teeth bare down on me like some kind of dog.
"What... Is you name...?" she asked, utter rage being spat out in my face with every word. I swallow and keep down my fear. I've beaten off three homophobes before, it's not like I can't take this aging, probably never seen a fight in her life, mess of a woman.
"Annabella Esmerelda," I shout out at her, she winces from the utter anger in my voice, "but what's it to you?"
"Well, Miss Esmerelda. Looks like we just got our female tribute for this years games!" she snorts at me.
My mouth opens in shock horror as she lets go of me, letting me clatter to the stage floor. She looks down at me as I glance to the side.
"Oh, and the male is Ernie Black!" announces Luna as I try to get back up, but she slams one of her heels down on my leg. Nothing is cut or bruised, but she won't let me stand up.
After Ernie joins us on stage and after about five minutes of Luna trying to figure out his minority, the mayor tells Luna that he's mute.
Ernie walks inside the justice building and leaves me and Luna on the stage. I look out to Dianne as she is barged away by a peacekeeper. She will get to see me for the final goodbyes, right? .... right...?
My mind gets more uncertain every second.
"Sweet little Anna." says Luna as she turns around, looking at me and walking towards me. The only sound being her huge heels, clattering against the stage on every single step.
"Don't call me that." I say, roaring up at her.
"Now now, Sweetie. You really aren't in the position to make demands. If you don't believe me, just look behind you." She says that with a sly grin on her lips and an evil cackle as I begin to turn around.
I'm met with a shock which makes my heart stop beating for about four seconds. I'm staring at the faces of the three girls I thought I would never see again in my life.
At the bottom of the stage stands Arabella, Bethany and Olivia.
I black out as all hope of my life fades from the world. My last thought being Dianne's last thing she ever said to me.
"Don't do anything silly, I love you, remember."
District 2 (Gail's POV)
Remember. . . Remember that you are never too old to lose things. Never too young to gain things. Never too old to leave things. Never too young to see things. Remember that when everyone around you hates you, there will always be someone willing to lend a shoulder. And most of all, remember that you should never give up. Even when it seems like nothing can get better. It will get better.
Lies. All of it. Plain lies.
You know, at first I believed all that crap. At first I believed that I was a freak. That my subconcious attraction to girls was just a phase. My mother forced me to believe that I didn't really like girls. She would tighten the leather belts around my wrists and knot them with a fierce fire in her heart, around the legs of the chair. And my ankles to the bottom of the chair legs too.
My mother tightened the straps so hard that the skin began to burn and tear away. Leaving retched, disgusting, purple scars in their place.
"You do not like girls!" screamed my mother in my face as she raised one of her belts. I didn't open my mouth, so she struck it down. The lash stinging deep into my skin as it feels like thousands of burning hot needles being forced right into my arm. The bone threatens to shatter as my vision flashes a burning red.
"Fuck!" I scream up at my mother, my eyes brimming with red.
"You don't deserve to live you fucking faggot!" she yelled down on me with a vicious spit. It lands straight on my face and I move against the restraints to try to wipe it from my cheek.
She raised her belt once again and brought it down on my arm. The bone did shatter this time, into pieces as I felt it fracture. The pain was so brutal that tears began to roll down my cheeks. My mother looked down at me one last time. I couldn't even see her do it for the pain that was searing through my arm like a thousand infernos. My eyes were creeping with red and black and I wanted the pain to end.
"Make sure you learn your lesson." said my mother calmly, as if she hadn't just shattered the bone in my arm with her abuse. She set down the belt, covered in my blood, as my wounds began to start a soft stream of blood leaking down my body.
She walked upstairs and shut the door. I heard the locks bolt. One, two and a third. There was no way I was getting out of here. The bloodstained belt at my feet a constant reminder of what just happened. The taught straps around my wrists and ankles uncomfortable and painful.
I was a burning inferno. And my mother just added gas to the flames.
I was ready to explode.
My left arm shot up, ripping through the dull fibers of the frayed belt. The leather shackle brakes suprisingly easily. I knew I'd feel the pain later, but the adrenaline was still pumping through my veins. I felt the sickly sweet trail of blood trickle down my wrist, as I used my left hand to rip off the right one. My wrists were in a blaze, burning with blood.
My feet were still locked in place, in their imprisonment of the chair. My bleeding hands now in my command, I was able to lean down, feeling the lashes on my back strech out and begin to bleed again. I knew from my career studies (before I was kicked out for being gay) that losing too much blood could kill you as easily as being beheaded. But was excruicatingly painful.
I didn't want to die.
My hand fumbled with the latch, my pained and calloused fingers failing to open the lock the first time. With each failure and more bloodloss I became weaker, but even more determined to escape. The eighth time my fingers coiled round the golden chain, it came loose and I freed my leg. Not even bothering to free my other foot, I grabbed a hammer from the table and swung it at the chain.
It gave a loud clang as it fell to the tile floor. The chair, stained with my blood, remained in the center of the room. Glassy orbs known as tears began to roll down my porcelain cheeks. The painful memories flowing out with them. There wasn't enough time to cry.
I needed out.
My fingers, numb and trembling, latched onto my hammer as I stumbled up the stairs, my legs not used to being able to stand after days upon days of torture at a time. Tiny, miniscule streams of blood ran down my legs and over my tattered, ripped clothing.
Tripping over my own dead feet, I made it to the door.at the top of the stairs. I had to stop for a second to compose myself.
Get it together Abigail.
I opened the door, weilding my hammer. Drips and drips of red ran down my leg, staining the skin and hair a dark crimson. My mother turns, her beady eyes popping out of their sockets.
"H-how did you...?" she half questions, half orders. She suddenly leaps to her feet when she sees the hammer in my hand, blood running down my sides and dripping down the outside of my legs, as well as the blinding pain all over my body. I'm in enough pain that if I stepped forward I might actually black out, but adrenaline does crazy things to a human being.
"You ruined my life. You won't let me be who I am. You ruined my life. You ruined my life. And for that, just watch me take yours." I screamed at her, repeating the words as I glided closer with my hammer.
"N-now, Abigail," my mother tried to reason, her voice clearly and obviously straining under the pressure and horror of what she was faced with, "Think about what you're doing..."
With a solemn and dark face, my eyes rimmed with purple bags etched deep into my skin, I closed my eyes in thought as I collected my thoughts. This was my mother. Did I really want to do this? Any doubt I had was washed away as I opened my eyes to see her reaching for a knife.
"Oh no you don't!" I screeched, swinging the hammer towards her face in a frenzy. It connected, with a sickening grunt, my mother catapulted backwards, toppling over a table. With a nasty crunch, she landed on the floor, obviously winded. I stepped back to look at what I had just done.
Blood dripped from her nose, and her mangled jaw (which looked broken in about four places) hung loosely from her face. One eye bulged in its socket, while the other was screwed shut in agony. She made an unintelligable moaning sound as she stumbled towards me.
I would have cried, but one glance down at my battered body reminded me of the horrible woman she was, so without any doubt in my mind, without a single tear to shed and without a single piece of guilt weighing my soul down, I raised my hammer, and brought it down in one stinging blow.
With a loud crack, her skull shattered under the blow. One of her eyes was ripped out of its socket and thrown carelessly across the room. Blood shot out of her face as the skin tore. Her body was knocked backwards, slamming onto the glass table, which then shattered. I threw the hammer down at her mangled face.
Glass mingled with blood stained the carpet floor, as without a single glance at the body I left the room, entered what I assumed to be my mother's room (the house had seriously changed since I was last up here). Quickly, I took off the clothes stained with my mother's blood, and pulled on a sundress - yellow, one of my favorite colours - with small girly ballet flats.
It's not who I am, but it's who I need to be.
About an hour later, standing in the grey, dirty and gloomy capital city of District Two, I was literally the only thing that had any light. Not only the light in my beautiful cerculean eyes, but the light of my yellow sundress, small checkers entwined with orange dancing gracefully across the soft fabric.
Looking both ways before crossing the road, I came to a halt near the baker's store. The last time I was here was when I was nine.
When I was nine...
That's when I discovered I liked girls. That's when my life got fucked up. Within a year after that, I had blurted it out at school that I had a crush on a girl. Everyone thought I was kidding. It was all fun and games - until it wasn't. My mother pulled me out of school and locked me in that fucking basement.
Like, what the hell? How did I deserve that just for loving who I wanted to love, because the world decided it was wrong? Actually, District Two isn't all that homophobic, it's just those stupid tits who think it's funny to make someone's life a living hell because of something that they are. Sick, just sick.
What satsifaction - what measly satisfaction - would one get from that?
With anger rousing in the pit of my stomach yet again, I made my way inside the bakery, forcing myself not to let my rage spew up on this poor man. The tinkle of the bell as I open the door brings a smile to my face.