Kane Darren-District 2

My appearance? I don't care about my appearance. I have ragged dark hair that is the same shade of brown as mud and eyes to match. I've been told by some people that the eyes are the window to the soul, I've also been told that my eyes are always angry.

Some girls have apparently swoon over my muscular body, I hate all of the attention they give me. If they could see my entire body they would scream in terror, scars cover every inch of the cover-able part of my body. Why is that? You'll find out later.

Apparently I'm heavy, weighing in at 204 lbs. I'm also fairly tall, 5 feet and 10 inches. Stop asking about my appearance.

Hatred. Hatred for everything. Hatred for my parents. Hatred for my brother. Hatred for my district and all of the naive career tributes. Why do I hate so much? You'll find that out later.

Some call me sadistic. Some call me uncaring. Some call me cruel. I don't care what they whisper about me it only fuels my hatred.

I'm not one of those people in the career center who gains confidence and feeds off of the attention of their lackeys and admirers. If you get all of the attention in the arena then anyone could kill you, even some twelve year old from district 9, I laughed when that exact scenario happened to an overconfident career a few years ago. It's when no one pays attention and you see an unsuspecting tribute, that's when the fun part of the games begin.

I'm a sadist apparently. Everyone says so. Okay, so I laugh when people die in the Games, and I enjoy it when I break the bones of my enemies in training. I guess I am a sadist.

I can still remember it vividly. He was standing at the metal plate, the light reflecting from the shimmering golden cornucopia. Cyrus gazed to his right and saw the insane fourteen year old from district 10 screaming and shaking.

The gong sounded and Cyrus ran straight to the cornucopia and grabbed his spear. The bulky boy from one decapitated the boy from eight. "Better catch up!" he taunted my brother. Cyrus knew the Capitol would sponsor who ever got more kills.

My brother sent a spear towards the insane district ten boy and it landed in his leg. My brother pinned the fallen boy down and decided to give the Capitol a good show. He pulled out a knife and began carving into his arms. After a while my brother paused and looked at the insane boy with pity. The boy saw his chance and took the knife out of his arm and slit my brother's throat.

My brother died in the Bloodbath. That is the greatest shame one can bring to district 2. The brute from district one won. During the Victory Tour the victor taunted my brother and said he was pathetic. This drove my parents to the breaking point. I found them both in the bathtub with slit wrists. They had killed themselves.

I was sent to live with my abusive uncle, Vulcan who constantly taunts me about Cyrus and shows me footage of his death everyday. I train to win the games and do what my brother failed in. Everyday everyone used to whisper about my weak brother. I began to challenge everyone who talked about my brother to a fight. Every single one of them came out with broken bones. I've earned myself a reputation as the one to not be talked to or associated with. No one pays attention to me when I train any more, now they simply swoon over the newest most-likely-to-be-a-victor career. I've challenged him to a fight a few years ago and I broke his legs. He is pathetic.

My hatred and pain make my training more efficient. I cut one area of myself that is easily hide-able every morning. I take pleasure in my pain almost as much as I take pleasure in other's pain.

I will volunteer for these games. And I will win, I am a career. But I'm not your average career, I'm not one who is arrogant and stupid enough to underestimate everyone else. But I'm not nice enough to show mercy as my brother did. And I will manage to give the Capitol a good show.