DISCLAIMER: I sadly do not own the Maximum Ride series or Hunger Games. If I did, Cato would have won and Ari would have lived. Suzanne Collins and James Patterson have the pleasure of owning both. All I own is the plot and any OCs I throw into the mix.
Cato POV:
When I volunteered for the 74th Hunger Games, I thought I would win. I really believed I would come home, bringing honor to my district. Why else would I have volunteered? I may be not be a genius, but I'm not entirely stupid.
But how could I possibly win? The 'star-crossed lovers' of District 12 were destined to win from the moment the boy confessed his love for that girl, the girl on fire. It was what the citizens of the Capitol wanted. The Gamemakers would never do anything to jeopardize the success of their precious games, so naturally, they went along with it. What was the life of one tribute, a mere boy from District 2, compared to the success of the Games? I was disposable.
I suppose that in the back of my mind, I knew this. How could I not? It was so blindingly obvious. But I still held on to that foolish hope of returning home a Victor. I could not accept my imminent death and keep my sanity. But maybe I wasn't completely sane anyway.
Something was always missing, be it love, pity, or comfort. But this time, it was my mind. I was not completely whole. I should have died. But I didn't. Death would have be a mercy. I didn't deserve any. I certainly never showed anyone else any.
All I knew was death. I knew a thousand and one ways to kill someone, and I used my knowledge. Maybe I deserved death. I had sent so many to theirs. But the death the Gamemakers gave me was beyond anything I could ever inflict. It was cruel, slow, and painful. Being ripped to shreds by mutts was not a good way to go.
But I didn't die. Well, maybe I did. I should have. Now I'm not completely whole. How could I be? I was torn apart, both emotional and physically. My mind was broken. But it maybe it already was, and it was only my will that broke that day.
Max POV:
When we escaped the School, I thought life would be simpler. It's not. I now understand something normal teenage girls have known for years. Drama sucks.
Not only do I have to deal with whitecoats and their psychopathic experiments bent on destroying us, I have to deal with the members of the Flock.
Gazzy and Iggy seem intent on blowing up my stuff and the house, Nudge wants to use me as her living Barbie doll, Fang's moody, and Angel is trying to take over the Flock. Drama's the last thing I need. But it has a way of popping up when you least want or need it. I swear, if drama could talk, it would say, "There's Max. She doesn't need or want me right now. I think I'll go bug her."
One of these days, I'm going to snap. And then they'll be sorry that they ever annoyed Maximum Freaking Ride.
