1st Hunger Games

I stand on my metal disc, taking deep breaths to calm myself.

The 'hunger games', the Capitols reminder the uprising was never to be repeated, was in its inaugural year, and I was one of the inaugural year's tributes.

I had always cracked under pressure; in fact, I have a large habit of almost going insane, so I try to repeat my name, to remember who I am, to stay in control ready for the bloodbath as the tributes were sure to engage in for the initial supplies.

No-one else really knows what's going on, and I can't boast of being more aware. We've never had to survive like this. Sure, we had to hide from bombs and the like in the war, but none of us are used to being on the front line.

Unlike the capitol, we don't kill children.

I survey the landscape. Trees in one direction, a swamp in the other, with a possible apothecary in there, but I've never been one for plants. A lake stands under the cornucopia, with all the supplies piled near the coast. It occurs to me that the lake might be the only water in the arena.

5.

I think I should rush in.

4.

Grab a weapon and some food then run.

3.

Should I really?

2.

I'm so unsure…

1.

Now or never…

Go.

I instantly begin sprinting. Most of my fellow tributes seem to have followed this plan of action too. I see a few slipping away into the woods, most from 3 and 5.

They always have been quite wily.

As I get my hands onto a sword, I feel a fist hit the back of my head; I instinctively whirl around, slicing my sword hard and deep into the assailants arm.

I step back, shocked at what I just did, watching as the wailing human before me grasped at their arm, which is barely hanging by a thread.

I realise what I've done, and it was exactly what I promised myself I wouldn't in these games, I which I am merely a pawn.

I have drawn the first blood.

I am no longer who I was before I stepped into the arena.

I am a monster.

However, those thoughts start to evaporate as I realise the giant peril I am in. The other tributes are beginning to recover from the action of first blood, and come to their senses.

I quickly pick up a backpack that appears to be stuffed with food, though I have scarcely time to check, as the other tributes are upon us. I sprint away, taking punches and kicks to various parts of my body.

As I reach the treeline, I realise that the bloodbath behind me is beginning to end, with bodies littering the floor. I almost retch at the sight.

I force myself to turn around and carry on running. Once I feel I'm out of sight, I stop and begin to check my supplies. Dried fruit, a bag of ham, some sausages, a variety of different bread and some other meat I don't recognise.

As I begin to stand up, I hear a rustling in the bushes, and then a sharp pain in my head. I reel around, and see the male tribute from District 9, and he is holding a rock in his hand, stained with my blood.

I react instinctively, slicing hard and fast towards his side, which he blocks with his rock, the impact ringing out and causing him to cry out in pain, I suspect the impact has broken some bones in his hand, but fear makes me act next, and I stab my sword straight through his throat.

As he convulses on the ground the impact of what I've done hits me.

I've killed someone.

My personal Hunger Games have begun.

I'm no longer Marble Caesar, the girl who cried when someone hurt a fly.

My mind reels with the implications of what I've done, and I begin to remember who I used to be…

.