Keep Your Enemies Closer

(A/N: This is my first fanfiction so I'm kind of nervous about publishing this! I'd really appreciate it if you could take the time to review this, constructive criticism is very welcome!)

Chapter 1

I can't breathe. The fear inside me swells and I know I'll black out if I'm not careful. I try to steady my breathing, inhaling one breath slowly after another. My whole body shakes, threatening to wobble me off this circular platform and onto the mine-littered ground before me. I know the cameras will be doing quick close-ups of our faces right now though, so I force myself to hide my fear. Instead, I allow myself to focus on my surroundings: the golden horn of the Cornucopia, the dense forest surrounding the open plain, and the 23 tributes spread equally apart, waiting for the countdown to hit zero.

Some, like me, look absolutely terrified; while others – especially the Careers – look like they can't wait for blood to start spilling. I accidentally make eye contact with another tribute across the field – the girl from District 8, I think. There's not much about her to be honest; she doesn't really look capable of wielding one of the many evil instruments that lie scattered around the Cornucopia. She gives me the faintest of smiles and I instantly look away, worried that she'll want to form an alliance. She doesn't look much of a threat, but how can you be an ally to someone knowing that you'll only have to kill them later in order to ensure your own survival?

But I've no idea how I'm going to survive. There are 24 of us. Only one of us will live. I bet half of us will already be dead by nightfall, and I have a feeling I'll be among them. I can see the Careers sizing me up, staring at me like I'm easy meat. Which I am. A short, skinny girl from District 11? I'm not going to kid myself. I won't last the night in here.

Briefly, I wonder if this was how Rue felt when she stood here three years ago. But then I stop thinking about her because I can feel the hot tears springing to my eyes, and the last thing I need right now is another way to look weak.

I hear the countdown reach ten and realise that I have no plan. All the advice given to me by my mentor seems unreachable, locked away by panic, and I can't find the key. I know that throwing myself head first into the inevitable bloodbath is not going to be a good move, but I'm just debating whether to try for some supplies or head straight for cover when the timer announces the start of the first re-established Hunger Games.

For a moment I'm frozen, unable to take in the reality that suddenly hits me. But then my legs kick into gear and I find myself sprinting forwards and grabbing the first thing I can find.

A torch.

Oh great, I think. 'Cause it's really easy to blind people to death.

I haven't stopped running and even though I'm not entirely satisfied with the pathetic piece of equipment I've managed to snag, I swerve away from the Cornucopia and run full pelt for the trees. My mind is spinning and I'm petrified that I'll feel the head of a spear in my back at any moment. This thought spurs me on, yet just when I think I'm going to make it, something winds round my ankles and I cry out as I fall to the floor. My arms are trapped, tangled in the net that has entwined itself around me. I thrash about, desperately trying to get free.

Somewhere in my head, a little voice is saying: Rue died after being caught in a net.

A strangled cry escapes my throat and I taste the saltiness of my tears. Subconsciously I wonder if they're watching me now, laughing even, as I claw at the insanely strong material that weaves the net that incarcerates me. I imagine it would seem quite hilarious to the people in the Capitol. Just another tribute that they eagerly anticipate the death of.

I know there's no hope of getting free, but I refuse to give in. I even try to bite my way out but the bonds refuse to break. Feeling a panic attack coming on, I give it everything I've got and manage to haul myself up into a sitting position. But it's too late.

The boy from 4, Griffin, advances on me with a grin. It's clear he's the one who threw the net. He doesn't hurry though, but I'm sure that's only because the other Careers have his back. Someone speaks to him, a small, pleading voice raw with fear. And I realise it's me.

"Please…" I beg. "Please, don't kill me…"

He raises his trident directly over my stomach in reply, and all I can think of is Rue. I guess the odds definitely aren't in my favour.