Chapter 1- Scars
The morning was still early as my fingers slashed the bags of grain. I gritted my teeth and thought incessantly on the speed, agility and force of each move. Even in the dim light I could see the bruises beginning to form on my hands. Then I began to throw a set of knives into the dummies, hitting the exact spot I was aiming for every time. Pleased, I moved on to my axe, my pride and joy. I threw it and it thudded into the dummy. The axe was an extension of my arm; it made me powerful, deadly. I got down on the floor and began to do push ups. Twenty-four, twenty-five, thirty, forty, fifty, sixty, seventy, eighty, one-hundred, two-hundred. That was twenty more than I had done before. I broke out into a grin as I lay on the stone floor. My heart was thundering in my chest, but it was one of the few times I felt truly happy. I wanted to scream and laugh. I got back up and did a roundhouse kick before sprinting back to the shed for breakfast, as the one meal of the day you didn't want to miss it.
The countryside was quiet in the morning except for the breeze. I relished the mornings, lived for them. It was just you out there surrounded by nature. You were as free as any animal there, relishing the same morning silence. The hate that consumed me temporarily evaporated into the air as I ran. My hate filled me with power but didn't control me. I had control. For a moment you could be free.
The streets of my district are crowded, houses piled together in a clumsy fashion. Hundreds of people live here, but the town looks deserted. I am invisible to the town and to its people. As dismal as that sounds it is a lot better than the alternative. With my history and status I am fresh meat for any bully who wants to deliver a beating. Only my strength and skills protect me.
As I weave in between the houses I see a bunch of boys. They all looked well dressed and sturdy, obviously from the upper side of the district. One of the boys, clearly new here begins to advance towards me. His sun-streaked hair blowing in the wind. I disappear before he can reach be but I still here whispers, 'stay away… Capital mutt … warehouse freak…' I'm used to it by now, so I don't show even a flicker of emotion, but inside I do feel… nothing, nothing at all.
The boy's blue eyes stay with me that day. They haunted me while I worked, I imagined the hidden depth behind them and I couldn't help wonder his story. Although I knew I was being delusional. That boy had no connection to me, he had it easier than me, everyone did and he was probably better than me.
I belong… no live in district seven, the lumber district and therefore spend most my hours cutting down and processing lumber. My arms ached, for I had been working for ten hours straight doing intense exercise. I felt a burning sensation, I felt content in it, and was addicted to it. It reminded me that I was alive, breathing. As the sweat poured down my back and my cheeks turned bright red I only pushed harder. It was a nice variation to the ghosts that you see around the slums of district seven, especially around the warehouse.
I headed back to the warehouse. I stared glumly at the lines of people in the same warehouse uniform. I hate the bloody thing. It is just a reminder that I am a parentless freak that no one wanted. Not just orphans live in the warehouse poor families do too. Though it is worse for them, as you are not allowed to speak to anyone of the opposite sex so girls, boys, women and men are separated. Soon I had arrived at the warehouse. I sleep in a dorm with fifty girls. There is no furniture except for a pile of sheets. The peacekeepers don't bother to police the warehouses so there is a brutal pecking order. Due to the fact most people think I have crossed the bridge to insanity, a violent, bloody insanity, I am left alone. I have my sheet and nobody touches it. Other people aren't as lucky. In winter you can always here the faint sound of teeth chattering coming from those whose blankets have been stolen. Then there are those with ten blankets looking profoundly pleased with themselves. I hate those selfish bitches. But then I hate most people, myself included. Then I remembered, Oh shit, tomorrow it the Quarter Quell announcement. I fell into a troubled sleep.
He stared at me, the boy with the deep blue eyes.
"You are capital filth! You are a murderer! A hopeless orphan!" He shouted, pointing a bloody knife at me.
"I must kill you," He screeched as he drove a knife into my heart.
I woke screaming, which received very nasty glares from the girls around me. I sent them an apologetic look but then remembered myself and glared back.
The warehouse doors blasted open and the peacekeepers began to shout us awake. They are dressed completely in black with red strips down their uniforms. The stun guns in their hand stare at us threateningly. These shoot sharp metal into your body, which inject a poison that causes your body to freeze in astonishing pain. The peacekeepers screamed and bantered on until every girl was standing but still shivering from the cold. There are some days where I feel senseless. When I feel that I am but a ghost scraping away at the shell of the world but never inside of it. I can never decide whether that is a good thing or not, for do I really want to be part of this world. Isn't it better to be nothing?
"What the hell do you think you're doing taking this long to rise? That's it no breakfast! Get into two lines, all of you and walk to the town square," the head peacekeeper shouted and I bet underneath her mask there was an evil sadistic smile. I gripped the knife under my bed, slipped it into my pocket and marched to the town square.
Shine Stiles, our tribute escort, stepped onto the stage. Her hair was golden and she wore a multicoloured dress that made her body look the shape of a a snowman.
"Hello, hello, welcome to the announcement of the Quarter Quell. I bet you are all dying in anticipation," she giggled looking extremely excited. I snorted in reply. "So I don't want to hold you up," she continued and a video of President Snow appeared on the screen.
"In honour of the Quarter Quell this year, the Reaping for the Hunger Games is going to be much more intense. This year, as a reminder to all that it is the district people who betrayed the Capital, you will vote for the tributes of the 25th Hunger Games. In order to start the excitement earlier the Reaping will be tomorrow instead of next week. May the odds be ever in your favour!" President Snow announced. I was shocked once again at the brutality of the Capital. They were so pathetic that they needed to pit each of us against one another. They needed to make our deaths even more cruel and brutal to erase their guilt and our power.
I knew one fact for sure. I knew one undeniable truth. Tomorrow was the Reaping and in a few weeks I would be going into the Hunger Games from which I wouldn't survive.
Shine pranced back on stage.
"Isn't this just going to be the most compelling Hunger Games ever! I will see you all tomorrow. Happy Hunger Games!" Shine exclaimed as she skipped off.
Blood pulsed through my veins. Hatred burned my throat. I wanted to inflict pain so desperately. I saw the signs of relief in the children's eyes around me, for they were sure that they wouldn't be voted in. I stared at the people around me and pushed through the crowd, seething. A peacekeeper stood in my way and in a burst of total wrath I pulled the knife from my pants and cut the man's cheek. I elbowed him in the stomach and pushed him out of the way. He groaned and I thought 'great, let him feel the pain'. Then I punched him if the face and blood spurted from his nose. A voice screeched out in the crowd,
"Stephanie Parker, GET BACK HERE NOW!" It was head of the workhouse.
"It's Spikes," I shouted and disappeared into the woods.
I climbed up the tree and instantly the anger evaporated. It was so unfair, I didn't even get a chance to make something of myself. I will die the unwanted freak I was when I entered. Tears rolled down my cheeks and for once I didn't curse myself or stop them. I had no reputation to uphold, no honour. I got my knife and held it firm in my hands, until they bled. Pain is so real, everyone feels it, and everyone is equal when it comes to pain. Pain is empowering. Pain affects everyone… Why keep living when you're destined to die? It would be so easy to end the pain. I raised the knife to my stomach, about to drive it through my heart.
"STOP IT!" shouted a voice from the distance. I turned round in fright, the knife just touching my skin.
"What the hell do you think you are doing?" the blue eyed boy shouted.
"I could ask you the same question," I replied angered. The boy smirked and his eyes twinkled.
"Leon Williams," he announced climbing up the tree. He did it gracefully, not as good as me but impressive. I glared and jumped to the next tree. It wasn't quite as pretty as I had hoped but still Leon looked pretty impressed.
"Welcome to the woods monkey," he laughed. The anger returned to me.
"What are you here for," I cussed. Suddenly his face turned very serious. He jumped onto my tree and whispered,
"I thought I should meet my tribute partner," he grimaced.
"You're not," I replied. But wait, people will vote for him cause they don't know him, it'll be easier for them that way. As a look of realisation and pain flickered across my face he reached out to touch my hand. He saw the scars along my arms, the blood dripping from my hands and looked at me with pity. I pulled back in shock and jumped from the tree. I hit the ground.
"Stay away from me. We are completely different, we are enemies," I shouted and I ran off. I saw a look of hurt cross his face but I continued running, a tear slid down my cheek.
As I lay on the floor my head replayed Leon's touch. It was so different to everything; it was so sweet, caring. Stop it, I can't think like that. The scars on my arms are there to remind me of what people are. They are vicious, abusing. It was years ago but the scars still remain, proof of how bullies pry on the weak, how the people of this town allowed me to be beaten and abused by the head of the warehouse. People are all the same they let you down and hurt you. What had been the purpose of all my training if not to rely purely on myself? Anyway I had the games to stress about and a friendship with Leon, another tribute is not what I need. I fell to sleep; it was the second night I had dreamt of the boy with blue eyes. This time though he teamed up with the boy of my nightmares.