A/N: All original Hunger Games material belongs to Suzanne Collins. The rest is mine.
"Get up! Now!" my father yells, yanking open my bedroom door. He is never in a good mood. "You're not going to be late for another day of training!" He slams the door so hard a couple of shells fall off my dresser.
I pry myself out of bed, my body still aching from yesterday, before picking up the shells and grabbing my uniform out of the top drawer. As I slip it over my body I have to grit my teeth to ignore the pain of the bruises that cover me.
The wall shakes a couple of times and I hear muffled screams, but I take a few deep breaths before going into the hallway where my parents are fighting, yet again. My mother flies into the wall and collapses into a heap on the floor. Her knotted dirty blonde hair lays on the left side of her face, hiding her scars. Her hand trembles with fear as she shakily pushes it out of her face to reveal a black eye and swollen lip that lay on her purple jaw. Her pale blue eyes glisten with tears that slowly drip down her cheeks. My father steps closer to her, but, before he can swing again, I rush across the room and stop him.
"Hey! Don't touch her!" I yell, pushing him back.
"Why don't you butt out of this?" he shouts, shoving me out of the way. I hit the ground hard, all of my limbs racing to reach the floor first. Blood drips from my nose and forms little puddles on the white tile as I stand up.
"Why don't you lay off—" I growl, stepping in front of her, my hand clenching into a fist.
"Just go," she pleads, stopping me from going any further, with tears streaming down her face. "I'll be fine, Finnick. Just go. Please."
I don't want to leave her with him, but I have no choice. We both know that if I stay it will only get worse. It always does. I brush the sand off my uniform and walk out, slamming the door behind me. I wipe the blood off my face as I make my way to the sidewalk. Girls stare at me and giggle to themselves the entire way. It's not uncommon, but pretty annoying.
When I finally get to Kai's house his mother answers the door.
She is a petite woman with a slim waist and small build. Her face is dotted with so many freckles that it is useless to try and count them all. The peak of her nose looks dusted with fresh pink from a sunburn, but the rest of her is deeply tanned. Her stick straight dark brown hair is braided loosely to the side and pecked with a daisy at her left ear. Her eyes are a subtle green color, like the Hydrangeas that grow in the grassy patches of the district. She wears a simple long light gray cotton dress that reaches the floor and a white braided rope tied around her middle. Her unpolished toes peek out from under the dress in tan sandals.
"Oh, Finnick," she says, sympathetically. "Come on inside and let me clean you up." She opens the door and guides me in. "Kai, go get my rubbing alcohol!" she yells.
"Okay, just one second," he calls back, grabbing a stool from the other room and sitting it next to the kitchen counter. I sit down and his mother rushes to the sink with a small cloth to wet it.
"He got you bad today?" Kai asks, his eyebrows knit together tight with worry. He knows it's free fight today at The Acadamy today. Everyone will be there to watch and take part in training.
"No, I just didn't land right this time, I guess," I say, looking down at my exposed knee. It looks pretty beat up, dented and bloody towards piece of flesh, my skin torn over the whole thing.
His mother comes up to my side and pats the wet cloth against my face. "Does it hurt?" she asks, concerned. She gently brushes my cheek with her hand. "Now, this might sting a little," she says, taking a cloth and cleaning out the cut with rubbing alcohol. I wince, at first, but eventually my face relaxes.
After that, we head out the door and walk to the rest of the way to The Academy. It is not that far away, but by the time we get there it is packed. District 4 has a reputation for succeeding in the games, so they always open up The Academy for everyone eligible for the drawings the day before the reaping. No one has to go to classes, it's just organized free fight. That way, if someone who doesn't attend gets picked, they won't make a complete fool out of the district like the non-Career districts. There will be some sort of advantage.
I go up to the weapons table and grab a silver trident, my specialty.
"Hey, check out that girl," Kai says, nudging me and nodding towards the girl in the corner. She is tall and slim with flowing long dark brown hair and a good arm with her machete. She wears a tan sweater that slips off her shoulders with tattered jean shorts and a simple seashell hanging around her neck on a worn out leather chain. Definitely not the uniform. "She's almost Academy material," he adds, impressed.
"Why isn't she here?" I ask. Everyone who has a chance at winning is usually evaluated and placed in The Academy when they turn 10. Why is she so different?
Coral steps behind me, her stick straight sleek blonde hair resting on her shoulders. "Her mother can't pay for it," she says, parting her bright red glossy lips to show a slight smirk towards how pathetic she thinks this is. "She's too drunk most of the time to pay any attention to her." She crosses her arms and narrows her cool blue eyes at the girl.
"Yeah, I think her father's the one who they found dead with the salmon last year. I guess, you never really get over something like that," Kai says, looking over at the girl. She takes her machete and slices the dummy's arm off and then swings it back around to its head in one swift move.
"Maybe that's what makes her so good."
Training gets out early so we can go home and get ready for tomorrow. Kai, Coral, and I all walk together on my way home, trying to guess who is going to go to the Hunger Games this year, picked or volunteers.
"I've got 10 aureus* on Romeo," Kai says. "And if he doesn't get picked he's definitely going to volunteer."
"I don't know. What about Emmett?" I ask him. They are both pretty good, but Romeo is not showy about his skills like Emmett. He has some of the best scores the Academy has ever seen, but he doesn't seem like the type to volunteer. To do that takes more than guts. To bargain your life for the sheer joy of torturing others on live TV is not for everyone.
"You guys are such idiots," Coral says, pushing the sleek blonde hair out of her face when the wind blows by. "It's going to be Finnick."
Kai and I just stand there looking at each other, confused.
"Don't tell me you haven't thought of it," she says, in total shock.
I stop in my tracks the second she says that. What if I do get picked this year? I have not really thought about it much because usually the older ones usually get picked, but it could happen.
"Your father is the Mayor. You know, that gives you greater chances of getting picked. I mean, the Capitol does love the drama," she smiles, shaking her hands around. "That's why they let us have The Academy."
My face stiffens as I start to explore the seriousness of what she just said. I could get picked. I could give up my life and everyone I know to actually kill complete strangers for the Capitols amusement. The idea itself is unnerving.
Coral comes around to my front and places both of her delicate hands on either shoulder. "I'm sorry, Finnick. I didn't mean it like that," she says. "I mean, how amazing would it be to get picked, to be the youngest victor? Just think about it." She takes my hand in hers and looks at Kai. "I'll see you guys tomorrow, okay?"
"Yeah," I say, looking down at her. She wraps her arms around my neck and pushes her body close to mine, her smooth hair hitting my face. She gives me a lingering kiss on the cheek before leaving.
When I finally get to my house I hesitate before slowly opening the door. I come in and see my mother sitting at the kitchen table with a cup of tea in her hands, staring into thin air. Her hair is a frizzy mess and her under-eye circles are so dark they blend into the bruises from this morning. I can see a bloody gash on her leg peeking out from under her long flowing black silk skirt.
"Oh, H-hello, Finnick. H-how was training?" she asks, struggling to get the words out. She mats down her hair with one of her hands and offers me a seat next to her.
"No. That's okay," I say. "Hey, where is..." I point to my father's office in the front corner of the hallway.
"He went into town for business. He should be back home soon," she says.
I go into my room and shut the door before sitting down on the bed. My shoes and uniform peel off of me like a sticker that has been sitting in the hot sun. I grit my teeth as the gray spandex inches off my arms, replacing it with a white tank top and khaki shorts, before going back out into the hallway. Just as I shut the door, I hear the front door open.
I freeze.
I can not hear all of it from where I am, but I know he is angry. He comes in with smoke flying from his ears, already halfway to losing it again. My mother tries to calm him, but it doesn't seem to be working. All of a sudden I hear something shatter on the floor and a scream. Large footsteps stomp down the hallway, each one driving a hammer into my chest. I rush inside my room, trying to get away from him, but almost as soon as I close the door it opens again.
"What did you do?" he yells, letting the door slam into the dresser, causing everything to tumble off and shatter on the floor.
"What—?"
"You know exactly what I mean! You are on lockdown until tomorrow," he yells, slamming the door shut, so hard that it makes the floor shake.
Shards of glass and shells cover the ground beside the dresser. I pick up a broken picture frame, the picture inside crinkled and almost fully revealed from under the broken glass. The frame itself is chipped at the corners and roughed up a bit. I look at the picture inside, a photo of me and my mother making a sand castle on the beach. We both look happy, something I have not seen in a while. I place it back in its place on my dresser once again, making sure that it does not wobble on its newly found short end.
I lay down on my bed staring at the smooth plain white ceiling for hours, letting its simplicity bore me to sleep. By the time I wake up, it is late, but not dark yet. I go over to the door to jimmy the lock like usual, but something seems to be jamming it. I hear a small whimper from the other side that seems to quietly die out, but I know it was there. My father must have gone to sleep, leaving my beaten up mother to drown in her tears.
I pace back and forth around the room, trying to think of a way to open the door, when the sweet ocean breeze hits my face from the slightly cracked open window. Before I can fully think it through, I grab a blue cotton sweatshirt from the chair at my desk and climb out the window, towards the unknown.
*I took the liberty of making the currency of Panem the aureus, otherwise known as one of the most popular coins of Roman times, made of gold. I figured since Panem was based on Roman society and economics, it made sense.
A/N: I hope you all liked it. I'm always trying to improve my writing in any way possible so PLEASE REVIEW.
Also, I tend to reuse some of my own original characters in other fanfics so you can have fanfic of a fanfic feel, then all existing within the same universe, so if you want more check out Flightless birds, Forbidden, or Clove.