The 2nd Hunger Games

by Lindsey9898

Davie's world is turned upside down when his brother, Harley, was killed in the 1st Hunger Games. A year later, Davie is picked along with tributes who seem tougher than the last Games. Davie is worried if he would suffer the same fate as Harley. If that were to happen, who would take care of his mother?

1. Chapter 1

Hey, guys! This is my first fanfic. I think that the Second Hunger Games was covered, but hey!

Enjoy.

Chapter 1

As much as I try, as much effort as I make, I can't get out. The blazes of orange and yellow lash me, giving me scars that will take months to heal. That is, if I make it out at all.

Anger makes itself known in her eyes. Anger and something else. It bugs me to know what it is, but I am still determined to get out of her grip and a tree limb that had all but crushed my ribs.

She wields a dagger to my throat. I knew in that instant that this could be the end of me. I tense up and accept my fate when I am all of a sudden upright in my District 8 bed.

The sheets, which were said to be super absorbent, were soaked through and through. My chest heaved deeply. I put all my effort into keeping the tears back. It's all coming back to me at once.

Today is Reaping Day. This Reaping thing makes me sick. It took my older brother away forever. The nightmare I just had was exactly the way I watched him die. Since then, I loathe the Hunger Games. I abhor the Capitol. Finally, I detest Gigi Barkon, District 8's escort.

The clock says 9:30 AM. The Reaping is at 10. I throw myself out of my bed and catch a glimpse of my reflection. Dark curly hair, unnaturally pale skin, hollow, green eyes, nothing really changed about me. Whatever.

I put on a pair of slacks and a button-up solid yellow shirt. Luckily, it's not wrinkled. I put on black socks and my brother's old dress shoes. I walk slowly downstairs. I silently hope that if I'm slow enough, maybe I might miss The Reaping altogether.

"Davie." Mom, who just fixed scrambled eggs and bacon for me, walks up to me and frames my face. Tears brim her eyes. It is clear that this day was as hard on her as it is on me.

"I can't believe that it's already been a year," I feel the tears welling up. I know I need to maintain my composure. Tear-stained eyes, especially at the Reaping, means you're weak. I hate that reputation.

Mom pulls away and fixes a plate. "Sixteen is too young to deal with this." It is true. My brother was sixteen when he died. Now I am sixteen. The age didn't really hold that ring it used to before the Dark Days.

My throat closes and all I could do is nod. I wolf down my breakfast. I walk alone to the Reaping. I have no friends. Since my brother died, I completely closed myself off from the outside world-for the most part.

They prick my finger for a blood sample and I stand in the 16-year-old guys section. I barely make it before Gigi Barkon takes the stage.