Io Haskell

Nano Byte (foster brother)

## History

Io had been born without a name, dropped off at the front steps of a house her parents had had no connection to whatsoever. At least, that was what Io thought had happened. That must’ve been the reason why she, not even as a baby, remained in one place for too long. Handed from one person to the next until they no longer had the means to care for a growing child. On and on, without a constant home and constant care, with no one who had enough of a connection to her or her birth parents.

In the end - because one had to have a name on the streets, otherwise you were nothing and nobody, a ghost to be overlooked and waved away - Io named herself.

Short and sweet, straight to the point, squeezed through clenched teeth and forced out of strangled throats easily enough to be understood without question. After all, there was not much time for questions when you had no roof over your head and hardly anyone to trust as far as you could throw them. Io was simple and easy, came from desperation and fear, and Haskell - Haskell came from the woman that made sure Io could carve out a small space for herself, could sleep on a mattress instead of the cold, hard ground.

Her best friends for many years were her fists and her teeth, the only things that defended her when situations turned tricky, dangerous. Io could throw punches and bite until her teeth were stained red and even if it saved her from many things, not all of it could she fend off. The streets were not kind to children, no matter the weight behind their punches.

The streets weren’t kind, but the orphanage was, as far as she was concerned. It was the first, serious roof over her head, the first people she did not need to feel so panicked of when she was sitting with her back to them during lunch instead of keeping an eye on them at all times. Trust came slowly, but the more time she spent amongst the other children, the safer she began to feel.

But, even despite the roof over her head and the security of a warm bed to sleep in, she never lost touch with some of the children that still had nothing. It was a crowd that continuously changed, though never lessened in volume. There was no shortage of children that had been dealt a bad batch of cards, that had been left alone to fend for themselves much like Io had been, but there was a shortage in good will and beds when it came to those who could offer shelter. And so, for some of them, she began to care. She took up tesserae so some could take less, she smuggled bread and the occasional vegetable out in her pockets for the hungriest, the ones most in need for sustenance to grow.

To Io, the Games were generally the cherry on top of an already rotten cake. Once, one of the children she’d grown close to while she’d still been without a home, had been plucked from the reaping bowl, thrown into the Arena and had never made it out again. She’d sometimes managed to catch glimpses of the TV through storefront windows, sometimes she’d been lucky enough to find someone living on the ground floor who hadn’t drawn their blinds shut. Most of the time soundless suffering, some of the time the faintest sounds. The Hunger Games, a wicked construct designed to pray on the weakest, unless there was someone stronger to take their place.

There generally was not, at least in District Three.

Nano, a boy she knew from the group home, someone she’d known long enough to comfortably call him her little brother, found his name being pulled from the bowl, picked straight out of a life of work and thrown into the harshest test of survival. Against all odds but to Io’s relief, he survived, crowned a rare victor from District Three.

Nothing ever remained nice, though, there was always a price for good things. Some were more costly than others. This good thing cost Nano his voice, and Io her little brother as she had recognized him before all of this had happened. It was devastating to watch the transformation. Selfishly terrifying to live alongside.

When a young boy, just around the age of twelve, who she knew as one of the children she was trying to take care of, was called as a tribute for the 133rd Games, Io could not keep her hand down, could not keep her voice quiet.

So, she volunteered. Not for a brother, but for someone she was trying to protect from death. Or worse - Nano’s fate.