Sorry, I haven't been able to be working on any of my fanfic lately, I just got married...and my job has been pretty demanding lately. Well, here goes with Anastasia Ratcliff. :) —

Anastasia Ratcliff hurried up the steps of the District 11 tributes' train, Quin Cornelia at her side. Quin hadn't taken his eyes off her in the entire time that they had been walking together, but she pretended not to notice. She kept her eyes on her feet, doing her best not to trip on the steep climb up to the train.

She looked up and peered at the train. There was approximately thirty yards left of just steps to get there. The train had orange curtains covering the small windows, and the train was painted bright, neon green, making her eyes ache when she looked at it. She was about to look around at her surroundings when she accidentally hit the front of the stair with the front of her foot and fell backwards.

She opened her eyes and saw two feet in front of her face. She wrinkled her nose in disgust, and peered up at the face of the man before her. It was just Quin, but her face flushed with embarrassment.

He grinned, "kneeling for me, are you?"

Her face turned a deeper shade of red and he laughed. He held out his hand to help her up. She stared at the hand in shock, and he said sarcastically, "you're supposed to take it, you know, so I can help you up."

She growled and grabbed his hand, heaving herself to her feet. "Thank you," she hissed through her teeth, brushing the dirt off her red, strapless dress.

"You know, stiletto heels aren't appropriate for a games tribute. You can't properly fight in those," Quin said, gesturing to Anastasia's heels.

She ignored him and pivoted away from him, stomping up the stairs. He burst out laughing, "What's your name again?"

"Anastasia Ratcliff," she said without turning around.

"Ratcliff, are you kidding?"

She ignored him still, but he still didn't stop his bantering. "Not the talkative type, are you? You ever had a boyfriend before? I mean like—if you don't prefer girls, but that'd be a pretty big misfortune to all the poor guys out there."

She whirled around, her knee-high stiletto heels lashing out causing him to crumple to the ground. When his body silently thudded onto the concrete sidewalk, and he finally shut up, her mouth dropped upon into a gape. She clamped her hand over her mouth to muffle her laughing.

Quin clutched his hand over his injured neck, his face flushed in anger. He pushed himself to his feet and lunged.

This next thing she felt was the sensation of his lips on her neck, sucking their way up to her lips. She struggled, but he held her firmly against the railing of the stairs. He murmured in her ear, "I'll bet you're good." She kneed him, hitting the weak spot between his legs and he clutched himself, his fingers fumbling. She hissed angrily, and he unzipped his pants, pulling them down slightly.

A loud crash sounded many yards away and her eyes darted to the entrance of the District 11 train. A tall, pale man had just exited, and was gaping in bewilderment at the sight of the Quin Cornelia and Anastasia Ratcliff together. Quin immediately backed away, breathing heavily.

"Kids, you've barely met each other! At this rate, you'll be in bed with the girl by tonight," the man said, he tilted his head in a slight amount of approval and she recognized him as a past tribute of District 11, Jack Bail.

Anastasia's face flushed a dark, angry red, and Quin laughed the laugh she'd already begun to despise. "Oh, we know each other very, very well, Jack."

Jack chuckled. "Why don't you go two go inside? We've got good beds, and maybe even a few toys."

Anastasia could barely hold in her disgust as she followed behind Quin and Jack. When Jack bid them farewell and wished them a good time, she fled the room, quickly finding her bedroom. She spent the rest of the night there, ignoring Jack when he said it was time for dinner, and ignoring Quin when he attempted to flirt with her from outside the door, making small moaning noises.

She ignored the racket coming from the hallway outside her bedroom, and when it finally quieted, she drifted off to sleep.

That night she dreamed of what could've been. A life with Primrose. A life where she wasn't chosen to be in the Games. A life where Prim wasn't chosen for the Games and her dearest sister, Katniss Everdeen had to volunteer to take her place. A life where males respected her for who she was and respected her body as her own property.