THE FIRST VICTOR OF DISTRICT 12

Written by Tora-chan

Disclaimer: I do not own the Hunger Games in anyway. All rights belong to Suzanne Collins, I'm just here to write a fanfic.

Rated: T(+) for violence.

The First Victor of District 12
Prologue

I awake, my head pounding, the light shining through the windows. The light only makes my head feel even worse. I try and remember what happened last night. I had drowned myself in a bottle of whisky, is what I had done.

I fall out of my bed, the burning sensation in my stomach rising. I need substance in my stomach before the last bit of liquid in me leaves. And the fiery liquid wouldn't be leaving out my behind, is all I knew.

The image of whisky coming out of my mouth bores into my brain, and spurs me on to the kitchen, where I crash around in search of food. My body hurts and my joints creak. I have given up count how old I am.

It did not take me long to seize some old bread and cram it into my mouth. I chew ferociously fighting down the urge to vomit. As I chew, I look outside the window. I remember why I drown my sorrows in whisky. I did it yearly. To avoid pain. Like it really helped. The day when I have to watch two sobbing children torn away from their families, be put in an arena and be killed. Two sobbing children torn away, trained, put in an arena, and killed. And repeat…

And I had to witness it. Every year. I have to train these two children, only to watch them being slaughter for the pleasure of the Capitol. In many ways, mentoring was almost as bad as being in the games.

I hate myself. I hate watching the children die. Most of all, I hate it when I can't help myself and get attached to some of the kids. Only to watch them die. Their screams will always haunt me. So loud and full of anguish.

The thought of the children dying makes me tighten my grip on the bread. I throw up despite the bread. Washing my mouth, I stare hatefully into the sink, whishing I didn't make it out alive. I push back salt and pepper coloured hair out of my face, as I think dark thoughts.

I get ready for the day. The horrible day. It's nearly two before I make my way to the Hall of Justice. I pass the children who have faces of terror. There is a silence that can only be described by one word. Fear. It lingers in the air, like a black sweaty cloak, engulfing the District.

I pass by children who gaze at me with haunted looks in their faces, like that's our mentor. That's the woman who will in the end be the reason why we die. I refuse to look at the kids as I make my way along the dirty street. I refuse help up on the stage. I hear whispering among the people. I ignore them. I'm the crazy woman who only manage to win the games by a terrible price. I'm the crazy woman who won the games, because I was driven with craze to get out of the games. My instinct was to survive. And I did. I won the game. Olivine Gneiss, otherwise known as Scout, was the First Victor of District 12. I should be proud. But I wasn't. And I'm not proud. I betrayed all I loved to get where I am now. And now I am being punished for what I did to win. What the Capitol and everyone else saw was the 16th Annual Hunger Games, where you take twenty four kids and only one comes out. And one did come out.

I take my place. There's a long speech, but all I see is children, waiting in horror. Who would be chosen? It could be any of them.

I suddenly have flashbacks of my own game. Unwanted memories flood my mind. When I was reaped. When I was pampered. When I was put in an arena. When I was force to do the unthinkable.