Timothy Sar

Background
I’ve been small all my life. In height, weight and thinking. I go about my life as normal as possible. I don’t want to stand out. That’s why I don’t have a lot of friends. But I do have a handful of friends. I don’t like to have too many or too little of anything. The only thing that keeps me sane is my knife. I took it from my families’ kitchen when I ran away. I didn’t run because I didn’t love them, it was because I couldn’t stand all the people at “my” house. It was too overcrowded. I tried to get them to come with me. They said peacemakers would have a harder time if they were looking for just one boy rather than an entire family. I cried. A lot. But they let me go. Because I didn’t deserve the living conditions. They sent me to my grandparents. It was too crowded there too. So one night without telling a soul, I just left the elderly home. I lose all contact with anyone I even remotely cared about. I wondered about the district looking for hiding spots. Never ever even go near the electric fence. It’s heavily guarded and it’s a dangerous area because of the people who live there. I found refuge behind one of the factories. I hid in a storage shed for fabric to be made into beautiful clothing. I never really had a knack for knitting but the steam coming off the factory was more than enough to keep me warm.

He sees the peacekeepers with their fancy guns. I hate guns. They mean you too afraid that you’d lose in a fight without a bullet heading toward a person’s skull. Anyway, all I do is just cut away at clothing they throw out of the factory. They're shrunken (to the point of saying it’s a washcloth) or burnt clothes. I save as much as I can but the irreparable? I cut at it with my knife. It gives me a sort of soothing sound. The rip of the clothing? It is music to my ears.

Now the games? I go to the square every year. Not for the Hunger Games, but so when the peacekeepers do a head count, they won’t see that I’m a run away. I think watching the games on the big screen in the square is quite amusing. To think that my great, great grandparents said OK to this in the treaty blows my mind. I wonder what the alternative was...Although the games seem entertaining enough. I can see why people in the capitol would love them. Never having to be a part of it and at the same time acting like they are. Aw well. I’m not too different. In a district so overpopulated I’m almost as much a candidate as they are. HA HA HA. I know, how can I laugh at that? Ah, maybe because I have nothing to lose.

Personality
He has a pale white skin, accompanied by brown eyes. They are a type of hollow. Like they just don’t care. Of course he wears worn and torn clothing. Just like anyone who lives in the lowest of low classes in District 8. He's very distant, doesn’t have any friends. He is extremely small for his age, even in his district. Because he dislikes all the food in district 8. He actually thinks of volunteering for the games just to get a decent final meal, he’s going to die anyway. But common sense pulls him back into reality.

Likes

 * Hunger Games
 * Knives

Dislikes

 * People
 * Guns
 * Fear
 * Everything pretty