Alistair Ranger | D8M {FIN}

I grew up for the first twelve years of my life with my parents, as well as my younger brother Adrian and my younger sister Alexandra. Unfortunately, Dad passed away when I was ten, and Mom passed away when I was twelve. That's when my aunt (Dad's sister) and her wife took us in. Since then, they've raised the three of us for the past six years, as if we were their own. They've shown us love beyond words, and I love them both just as much.

To our dismay, however, their love couldn't prevent what happened. I was reaped for the Third Annual Hunger Games, which is practically a death sentence. I'd be leaving behind my family and my friends. I'd be leaving behind my home, my job as a tailor, and my dreams of running a community home, getting married, adopting children and so many other things that I looked forward to in my life.

It was all taken away from me, and I was taken away from them. Nothing could fix that unless I won these Games, but the problem was, I didn't want to fight. I didn't want to kill anyone. I didn't even want to so much as swing my fist in someone else's direction. The only thing that would likely get me to fight was if someone came at me first. Even then, I don't know if I could really do it. I was always taught that fighting was wrong, after all.

When it came to the conflict between the Capitol and the Districts, I didn't even choose a side. I remained as neutral as I possibly could. I didn't like the thought of conflict.

I knew the war was technically over, but it seemed to me that it had just begun, and I was no soldier.