Chapter 1: The Reaping
JUSTIN'S POV
Slash! Snick! The mannequin's head flies off, neatly seperated from it's neck. I grin and grab it. 'Ain't you a pretty little sucker?'I say too it's face, before tossing it aside. My trainer, Donnabel comes over to me. 'That's the tenth mannequin today Justin. Let's take a break.' She says to me. I look at her. 'Excuse me, bitc*? I need to train.' I look at the decapacatated mannequin. 'Soon enough, that's gonna be a tribute's head.' This year, I'm finally 18. This is my last year to participate in the games. All the other years, some uppity bastar* had the quicker tongue and got volunteered. Only 2 of them lived. I was annoyed, but Donnabel told me something. Observe.
I observed alright. I watched them live. I watched them die. I noticed how smart they were, and I noticed how dumb they were. I analyzed every move for the past 6 year- no, I've been analyzing the games as LONG AS I CAN REMEMBER- and today is my day. My year. The year I make District 2 of the winner of the 64th annual Hunger Games.
I've been training as long as I can remember. I like to think of myself as supple. Surely my body is strange. Even though I'm limber, I hit like a log and am as tough as a rock. My stomach has a solid six-pack with an ugly scar in it's center, when another trainee accidentally missed and it hit me. It went through my skin and hit my intestine, but strangely it hurt little.
I guess I can thank my dad for that. People said he was as tough as an oak and twice as strong. I guess I get my thick skin from him. He won the 32nd hunger games, and when I watched them, I noticed how he laughed off even the most grievous of injuries. He could afford to, the crowd loved him and sent him medicine whenever possible. Anyways, he won and that's what mattered.
I head outside, brushing my black hair away from my forehead. I wear a black sweatshirt, which allows me comfortable movement. It looks with my white shorts and boots. I step outside The Nut. Damn. The reaping's begun. I have to hurry now. But I see my girlfriend Clara. She's a past victor, but still younger than me. I run to her, she runs to me, and we hug. 'You're gonna win this one, you hear?' She whispers in my ear. 'Of course I am, baby.' I grin at her.
Soon enough, we both are running off and I'm getting in line for the Reaping. I'm grouped into the 18'ers, and the pipsqueakers sidle away from me. The ones as tall as me look uncomfortable, but only one giant, Magix, looks me in the eyes and grins. 'Let's see who gets in this one.' I look at him irritably. 'This is my game.'
Soon enough, I hear the name of the girl from District 2. Our escort, an overly powdered red haired freak, Klipper (What a name.) hops onto the stage. 'Greetings District 2, and welcome to the 64th annual Hunger Games!' She burbles. 'As usual, Ladies first!' She hops over to the big bowl and puts her hand in. She takes out a piece of paper, and carefully says the name.
'Trilby Hicks.'
Oh Goddamn. 'Shit.' I whisper under my breath, then I say something else that would surely get me a slap. If my mother dared to hit me anyways.
I watch Trilby take the stage. She looks 15, maybe 17 at the most. Her red hair matches her freckles, giving her an almost innocent look. But I don't trust it. I've seen how deadly she can be.
She was the one who threw the dagger.
I remember that day perfectly. I was as usual practicing with my sword, 3 years ago. I was practicing with my fists. As a result of using weapons nearly twice my size and handling weights, I had strong, hard, durable hands that gave me an advantage in case I ever didn't have a weapon during the games. I was just doing my normal practices, sparring with some mannequin when she called me over. 'Hey Justin!' She called.
'Come over here!' I jogged over to her, wiping my face with a towel. 'Sup, Toots?' I say, grinning. She laughs nonchalantly. 'Well, I've been watching you practice a bit. Mind helping me out with some throwing?' Well, I didn't mind, she looked strong and confident and besides, I wanted to see how good she was. I hoisted up a mannequin about 40 metres away from her and stood by it's side with my arms crossed.
'Alright, hit it with a tomahawk.' The words are barely out of my mouth when I see the ax hurling through the air, neatly impaling itself in the mannequin's chest. I look at it. And laugh. Really, it was funny. She was hardly 14 at that time and she hit it.
'Alright, nice fluke toots, now hit it again.'
I shouldn't have said that.
I saw her become angry. 'Fluke?' She whispered. 'I'll show you fluke!'She yells, and the next thing I know the mannequin is chock full of daggers, tomahawks, throwing knives, anything you name. Then she threw another one. And it didn't hit the mannequin.
I look at the steel hunk lodged in my lower rib cage. I fell on my knees. It didn't hurt as much as it shocked. She looked shocked too and ran to help me. But she whispered in my ear,'That's a fluke. Toots.' I get angry. Very angry. With an animalistic roar, I rip the knife out my rib cage. In a moment of pure insanity, I give a twisted grin. My blood is pouring, gushing out of my wound. It landed deep. Before she knows what I'm doing, I lift her up with both hands and throw her onto the weapon rack. She hits it hard and falls. I run to her leaving a trail of blood behind me. I grab her by her hair and look in her eyes. She tries kicking me in my manhood, If you know what I mean, but by then I was already so hurt I couldn't give a lesser damn. I punch her in the face. Her nose is broken, blood gushing out. I see a tear come out of her eye and I soften. But not enough to give her another shot. I give her another blow to the side of her head, knocking her out. The last thing I remember before passing out was that the trainers were rushing towards us. Then the world went back.
The aftermath was terrible. Trilby barely spoke to me. I was off training for one solid month. I couldn't do anything but lie down and listen to Clara talk about how much she was shocked that 'That bit*h' could even think of harming me. I would just laugh. When I was off this hospital bed, I would be back in training.
I look at the poor bitc*'s face. The only reason she'll live is cause she has me as a career mate. Of course I can't exactly say she sucks. I've seen her aim with tomahawks. She can hit from 60, maybe 90 metres away and hit something. So I guess that's the plan. I kill everyone, and she stands there looking small and weak.
'Now the boys!' says Klipper and she hops over to the other side of the stage and puts her hand into the large bowl. 'Magix An-' 'I volunteer!'
I say before Magix's full name can come out of her mouth. Magix eyes me brutally. Why shouldn't he? He's lost his last chance to be in the games. 'Well then, it seems we have a Volunteer! Come up to the stage.' With a cocky grin I climb the stairs. 'Your name?' she asks in that annoying capitol accent, really, do they do that on purpose? Anyways, she asks me what my name is. 'Jason. Jason Brode.' I turn and look at the girl across me, the girl named Trilby.
I shake her hand, and am immediately startled. She has a strange fire in her eyes and I recognize it. She's gonna go solo. She can't trust me. She wants to kill me.
For the first time in my life, I might have a challenge.
'Happy Hunger Games! And may the odds be ever in your favor!'