I saw nothing but red as I launched the spear into the air, right through the core of the dummy. My nostrils flared as I looked at it, pierced and lifeless. Clenching my jaw, I took a step back and closed my eyes, trying to calm myself down. This was the only time I ever really got worked up, when I'm training. Any other time, I'm reserved and actually quite reluctant.
"Great job, honey!" I heard my dad coo as he walked through the doors of the training center, clapping his hands. I spun on my heel to face him, finding someone else following behind. I immediately recognized the guy following him. He was tall, muscular and short, golden locks of hair sat atop his head.
I regained my composure and instantly became nervous. It wasn't every day that you were in the same room as Cato Myers, winner of the 74th Hunger Games. This only meant one thing…
"Dahlia, I've got some good news for you." Here it comes… "Your father got you possibly the best trainer of all time." I bit the inside of my cheek as my father brought his arm around and let it land on Cato's shoulder. Bingo.
Now, don't get me wrong, Cato probably is the best trainer out there, considering he came out victor of the most difficult game yet; but have you seen him? He's intimidatingly scary. I mean, there's hardly ever a time when you see him without a scowl on his face; and ninety percent of the time, his arms were crossed across his chest in an unapproachable manner.
A lump the size of a grapefruit grew in my throat as Cato's eyes looked me up and down, surveying me. I caught his gaze and a small smirk rolled over his lips.
"Well? I thought you might be a little more excited about this." My dad stepped in, catching my attention.
Averting my eyes from Cato's grey orbs, I looked to my father, shrugging my shoulders. "It's been a long day, dad."
"Understandable. C'mon, sweetheart. You can start training with Cato tomorrow morning." I nodded and followed my father and Cato out the double doors that lead to the stairs back up to the Pub.
The Pub was empty, unusual for a Sunday night. "You head on home. Cato and I are going to talk for a bit." I nod and start out the doors, making sure to grab bottled water before heading out.
"How was training?" My older sister, Kinsley, asked when I stepped in the house. Last year was her last year to be in the drawing, and she couldn't be happier.
"Eh, it went okay." I plopped down next to her on the couch and kicked my shoes off carelessly. "Dad got me a new trainer, and you're never going to believe who it is."
"Who?" she asked, not sounding very interested.
"Cato Myers." I told her nonchalantly.
"Shut up. Really who?"
"Cato Myers." I told her again. Kinsley stared at me for a moment, as if trying to spot some kind of proof that I'm lying, a lip twitch, excessive blinking. When she realized I was telling the truth she smacked my arm. "I'm jealous. I've been trying to get my hands on him ever since… well, ever."
I rolled my eyes and laughed at her.
"You know, the anniversary is next week." My sister's joyful voice filled with dread almost instantaneously.
"I know." My voice matched hers. I looked down at the scar that stretched across my forearm; it clashed against my dark skin. I remember how I got that welt, attacking the Peacekeepers that took my mom away. But I didn't like talking about it.
An unnerving silence settled over us. "I-I'm going to bed." I told her, standing up from the couch.
It wasn't that late, but if going to bed meant avoiding talking about mom's death with Kinsley, then so be it.
Walking into my room, I stretched my arms overhead and stripped down in just my underclothes, just the way I liked. I slid into bed and stared at the ceiling until my eyes fluttered closed, enveloping my in darkness.