This is my first Hunger Games story. It is set long before the days of Katniss and Peeta. I hope you all enjoy, please R&R. I have rated this story M because of later chapters; there will be swearing, sex and bloody violence. Thank you.
I'm good at reading people – that's why my mother used to say, followed by wearied sighs and looks of utter anguish. I'd have thought it was a gift, to be able to see into people's souls, sort the good from bad and those in between. But she never thought so.
This was probably due to the fact that I let it get in the way of everything. I'll be the first to admit that fact, because I know that it's true and that there's nothing much anyone can do about it. Boys have always tried to ask me on dates or offered to walk me home from school, but one look in their eyes and I shot them down. All of them. He wants you for your body, my mind would tell me. He's looking for a rebound. That one's a little too feminine and weak. And once, even: He's gay but hasn't figured it out for himself yet. Well, I didn't want to be the girl who helped him to establish it, did I?
You could say that my 'reading' skills have affected my relationships; by which I mean, I haven't had any. Ever. Not even a friend, because I know that they'll only stab me in the back, or they want to be with me because the boys might look at them for a change, or simply that they feel sorry for the lonely girl and want to make her look popular. I don't need these people, I can cope by myself. And that's exactly my status right now. I'm by myself.
I'm an orphan, but I'm not too upset about it. My mother was selfish and my father, although I never knew him, was a total jerk. They conceived me when they were both only 16 years old, on the day that my father was chosen in the reaping for the 12th Annual Hunger Games. Back then, victor's were allowed a whole hour with their family members to say goodbye, and my father liked to say goodbye with his penis. He had looked into my mothers' eyes and quite romantically said, "I don't want to die a virgin." Being a complete idiot, my mother took him up on this offer and nine months later I popped out. My father had died during the games. I didn't feel the loss.
My mother died when I was ten. It wasn't from heartbreak or stress. It wasn't because life was too hard being a single mother still grieving her lost love. It was because she was selfish and took her own life. One day, on the way home from school, the resident Peacekeeper Jyn had taken me aside and told me to go home with her instead. I obeyed, because that's what you do. Corrupt or not, a Peacekeeper is still a Peacekeeper. So I did as I was told and she ushered me into the warmth of her slightly more plush and well kept shack and told me everything. How my mother was found in the front yard, hanging by a thin rope by the neck, swinging on the porch. How she had a note in her hand, but all it had said was "I'm sorry."
Sorry wasn't good enough. Seven years on, and I'm coping. Like I said before, I don't need anyone to keep me going. Except for maybe today.
You see, today is the reaping for the 29th Hunger Games and I'm 17 years old, which means I'm still eligible to be a victor. My name is only in the bowl once, because living by yourself doesn't require that much food, especially when you're as small and slight as me. It also helps that I live in District 5, not exactly the poorest of the twelve Districts. We harness power, like electricity and nuclear. We provide the Capitol with their lights, and so their glamour. This means that the Peacekeepers are friendly and the food isn't rare. Not many children put forward for tesserae, and as I've said, I never have. I feel lucky living here though. Other Districts aren't so fulfilled.
I know that my possibilities of being chosen are as likely as the rest of the children here, due to the low rates of tesserae. I don't believe in luck, either. So when the bright turquoise coloured man calls out the name "Rhona Jade", I do not flinch, scream or panic. I simply take my place on the stage.