./so this is where the end b e g i n s

Mita Renno

She was a nobody.

An outcast, a loner, the one that no one wanted to be partners with in group studying, a loser.

She didn't belong.

There was a mother and two daughters in that family. And the one, the nobody, she had waken up as soon as she could, to the sound of a cat's meow and a dog's early howl. It was a daily routine. She'd wake up to those particular sounds, as if to signal another day in the life of no one, and she'd take her two hands, dirt covered and slender, and wipe the two balls of eye wax from her tear ducts. And then she'd let out a small yawn, a tiny small yawn that brought her back to her childhood. To the days where she would play with red and yellow and green plastic balls and clap her hands together and giggle loudly. Those were the times where she was actually someone; something. Actually something worth looking at, worth stopping and telling the mother of that she was adorable, that her little blonde tufts of hair and blue eyes that stared back at you was enough to make one want to have a child of their own. But things were different, and her blonde hair was now a dirty brown, matted near the hairlines and practically incapable of brushing. But after she'd wipe away the wax, she'd commence to sitting up on her tattered mattress, passed down for some 6 generations, and slide out of the bed, swaying back and forth as sleep still tapped on her mind. Every little movement made a creak on that bed, but never would that family get rid of that bed. No, not after everything it'd went through. The fires, the floods, the threats and the bribery. Even through the toughest of times, that bed remained.

And then one of her feet took a step forward, the next one sure to follow, before her hand pulled the door without the handle open. The door was a solid oak color, smooth on the hand but not polished or stained. Where a handle should've been was an empty gap, a hole situated on the right side of the door, allowing whoever wanted to pass through to come and go as they pleased. She had little to no privacy in her room, even if it was covered in a layer of dirt and the only real valuable thing that was in it was a bed, in which she was usually sitting or sleeping on. A small string of dust landed on her head as the door swung open, reflexively being swept off by a dirty palm.

Sitting on a small table outside of her room was a red ceramic mug of hot milk, on a red ceramic saucer with 2 perfect sugar cubes warming next to the steaming white liquid. With the smell emanating away from itself, the fumes occasionally reached her nose, sending pangs of goosebumps and twitching fingers. The nobody knew better than to grab it as soon as possible, for the handle was probably still hot and she'd not be getting anymore. But initially, she was shocked, for the nobody usually did not get anything special for her birthday even, let alone an ordinary day like it w- No. It was the day of the Reaping. However, this did not make up for the milk. The family was part of the poverties in the District, and although they were the ones to do the milking for the District, the Peacekeepers decided had concluded that the only thing worth having to wash down the dry bread and spoiled meat was water. It was a pleasant thing though, truly, that she was seen as significant enough to be given a gift, as this was only her 3rd Reaping for her to be elligible for and only one tesserae had been bought. With all the others in the District, all the other thousands of teenagers and children that were to be in the massive glass bowl holding all of the names, the nobody had been seen as a somebody enough to be given a glass of milk.

Sleepily, she wandered into the room that served as all a kitchen, a bathrrom, and a family room. Slowly, her drowsiness began to diminish, and the realization and significance of the day finally began to set in. There would be no work, no sweat and no complaints. There'd be no early waking unless necessary, for avoiding the Reaping and dressing up would be what would
act upon.

"The milk's hot, wait a minute," she heard her mom say. Conversation between the nobody and her mother was always short and formal in replies. Though they had little money, she'd been raised on formality and proper manners, as the mother came from a rich family and being slouchy was not looked up to.

"Yes ma'am. I knew beforehand that the milk was to be hot, seeing as it was steaming, but I cannot help but to almost be

brought to tears with the thankfulness that I have to express to you mother. How is that you've come about even acquiring it,
let alone the sugar?" she replied.

Her mother sat a round table, sipping at her own warm milk, though in a pastel green mug rather than the red one that was on the table next to the nobody's room.

Suddenly, a loud squeak ran throughout the poorly constructed house, making the nobody's mom and the nobody herself have wide eyes, though the hot milk spilled onto the mom's robe, causing there to be a hiss to go with the shriek. Coming out of the
hallway was a small, blonde haired girl with a bottom lip being bitten by the upper teeth. Her name was Chryll, a sister of
the nobody, and unlike her, she actually had friends.

"Mom! That milk is hot! Did you not feel the need to tell me?" she asked, not near as formal as her worthless companion's reply.

"How should I have alerted you? You were sleeping, I couldn't just have awaken you just to tell you of the Reaping and the
temperature of the milk!"

"Yes, mother! You could have! A note, perhaps?"

"We've no paper nor anything to write with, Chryll."

"Well maybe you should've woke me up then! It wouldn't have been that bad. I mean, if it weren't for you two talking, I would
still be asleep right now!"

~~~~~~

The nobody wore nothing special; a black dress with a white ribbon wrapped around her waist. Her brown hair was only in a ponytail, and she looked evermore worthless standing next to the richer of those in District 5. Standing in the pit of 14 year olds, she stood near the front, seeing as she were closer to the District Square and they had left early. Her throat still warm from the sweet and warm milk that she'd finally gotten around to drinking just before they'd left out for the Square.

The mayor, a hefty man with the most formal of tuxedos on, began on the microphone, though none of the speech entered through the girl's ears. Was there really any point in listening? This had been happening for over 30 years now, the Treaty of Treason being read and then the peppy escort reading off the names. Out of the 34 Games that had been held, only one person from District 5 had survived, and that person's name was Thread. He had long black hair that was never found on his back, being split into two halves always resting in front of his shoulders or in a ponytail. Even in the Arena, he'd wrapped his hair up in a vine before eventually cutting it off with the knife he'd gotten from a dead Tribute at the Bloodbath. He'd be the mentor of whoever was Reaped, and the more the nobody thought of it, the more she felt that she'd be spending the majority of her time in the future with the man named Thread.


When the blue skinned, purple eyed male of the Capitol with the name of Pep walked out onto the stage, not a soul in the whole Square made noise. No one liked him, with his short blonde hair. His voice was deeper than one would expect, and everybody in the District that had ever heard him or seen him had their own theories as to why the voice didn't match his appearance.

"Hello, everyone! Still sleepy, are we?"

A pause.

"Nevermind that! Shall we begin? I believe that by now you all know what I'm here for, and we'll start out with boys."

And one more pause.

As his arm reached into the blue tinted glass ball of the boys' names and pulled out one.

"Whisk Clawn? Whisk Clawn! Yes. Please, come onto the stage? Yes. Do that!"

A boy in a simple brown t-shirt and black dress pants walked onto the stage. His face was emotionless.

"And so now I ask if there are any volunteers?"

And no one liberated him.

"Moving on then! The girls' names." He reached into the bucket, which was tinted pink, and pulled out a name. "Mita Renno!

Come stand beside your new District partner!"

And so the nobody, who's name was Mita Renno, moved on to the stage.

She told Pep that there was no use in asking for volunteers, because no one had even heard of her.

//opinions?