Let the Games Begin
The sound of blood rushing in his ears drowned every other surrounding him. It was cold. Colder than the winters he had survived so far, without getting picked. It was as if the frost didn't only wash over him, but through him. It made him into ice. Ice he became as he stepped into the tube, drawing a breath as he closed his eyes. It was moving. Time seemed slow as he was sluggishly lifted into the arena, like the world was stuck in slow-motion, but soon the tube that surrounded him disappeared, and the sunlight hit the back of his eye lids. He slowly opened his eyes, and the sight that met him wasn't exactly what he had hoped for: A large field that went on for as long the boy could see. He swallowed a lump that had formed in his throat. This was it, he realized.
A boy. Only 15. Sam was his name. District 7. This was his home, where he belonged, and now he belonged nowhere. If he would ever get away from here alive, it would be nothing else but luck. He doubted of course, and could not find the courage to keep his head high and have a little faith. He tried, but he knew that it was only dreaming, but try he would.
Letting his eyes run over the other tributes, he saw the fear on their faces. They all shared a growing fear, in the heart at the reality of what was about to happen. They all stood little chance against the careers, and they all knew it. Sam was sweating, but he would not let them enjoy his fear. Then he would only give them what they wanted. Some predators hunt because it's fun. The careers are that kind of animals. Lions. Waiting for their prey, the fear simply satisfying their egos.
The numbers on the clock were already down to 20 now. 20 seconds to go. His heart was beating fast now, and its pace quickened as the countdown reached 10. He watched it, ready, every muscle in his body tense as he figured where to run, and then it happened. Everything was moving so fast now, he couldn't react... This was his worst realization. Let the games begin.