10. Here it is. 9. 8. 7. This is it, 6. 5. 4. 3. 2. 1. Go.
I take off like all the other tributes. Off the platform, past the mines in the ground that my mentor told me about. Nobody pays any attention to me, probably not thinking that I'm a threat. I will show them. I will win.
While I'm running past people, I hear the sound of misery and death start. I grab a small backpack as I watch people fight over the simplest items. Time pause for a second as I watch my fellow tribute from 5 fall to the ground. His eyes meet mine as he's hand falls limp over the object he and another tribute were fighting over. I look closer at the fallen water bottle and time unfreezes. I sling the backpack over as the tribute turns to face me. He smiles and I turn and run.
I run and run till I can't hear the fighting anymore and I also fall from exhaustion. I lean against a rock, catching my breath and try to come to terms with what I just saw. Everett is killed, I never knew him well, probably only talked to him a handful of times. But he still meant something to me. He meant what little home I have left.
I go through my backpack on the soft, pokey pine-needles at the base of a tree. Inside was one water bottle, half gone pack of crackers and a small knife that looked more like a pocket-knife, also a small first-aid kit. I turn the small dirty, white box in my hands. It couldn't hold more than a few Band-Aids.
I look up at the sky as the sun was at the horizon. I hadn't noticed, soon it would be cold. I found a wedge in-between the rock and the tree and piled needles along it.
I wedged myself as far back as I could and pulled the backpack against my chest. I looked up at the names in the sky and closed my eyes before Everett's name to make sure I wouldn't cry. If I cried, I would forget about my strategy. And strategy is everything.