"Ladies and gentlemen, let this year's Hunger Games begin!" the announcer crows.
I stand on my plate, trying vainly to see who stands on the plate next to me through the thick fog that covers the arena like a wool blanket. I instinctively reach for the knife in my pocket. We all have them. All twenty four of us tributes, that is. I was puzzled when I first reached into my pocket and pulled the blade, but now I can see why we were armed beforehand.
The plates ring the cornucopia closely. I'm only a few feet away from the mouth of the giant golden horn. And in that horn, there is nothing. Except piles of fruit.
Oh, how the gamemakers must be laughing. I am certain there are no swords or bows hidden under that pile of apples.
Then the gong rings, and the games begin.
I jump down from my plate instantly and run towards the person closest to me. Because of all this damn fog, I can't even tell if it's a boy or a girl. All I know is that they're about to die.
And that I'm going to kill them.
I tackle them to the damp ground. Guessing from their physique, it's a boy. The masculine grunt of pain they emit as they hit the ground only proves my theory.
When I finally gets the struggling boy under control, I press my knife to his throat. His eyes widen in pain.
His eyes.
"Kal? Get off me!" my district partner hisses.
"No can do, comrade." I flip my hair over my shoulder. "You see, you're my biggest threat in this competition. And I'm smart enough to know that it'd be wise to eliminate all threats as quickly as humanely possible."
"They'll know you did this, you know. When you get back, you'll be shunned." He gives a disgusted grunt. "Killing your district partner before the final two. Before even the final five. Disgraceful."
"They won't see it. No one can see anything through this fog. And who cares? I never really fit in back home anyway." I smile. "And they certainly won't be able to see this." I slice my knife across his throat as if I was cutting through bread.
His emerald green eyes glaze over, and his chest deflates.
"Shouldn't have underestimated me, you worthless piece of Career Academy crap."
Quickly wiping off the blood on my knife with my jacket, I stand up. Around me, the sounds of the bloodbath slowly die out. To complete the act, I stagger backwards and utter a very convincing terrified scream.
"No!"
My allies seem to appear from nowhere. "What's wrong?" the girl from District Two asks me. "Why are you-" she looks past me and sees the body. "Oh."
"How could this happen?" I fake weep. "He was so strong…"
"If it makes you feel better, we found some real weapons," says the girl from District Four. Her district partner wasn't part of the pack, so she doesn't yet know what it's like to "weep" over your partner's death. "On top of the cornucopia, of all places," she adds jokingly. "Here." She tosses me a crossbow, a weapon I can use but don't really prefer. A packet of bolts follow.
I give her what I hope is a weepy smile.
"Let's set out," the girl from Dsitrict Two says. "We've got weaklings to kill."
No, I think. I've got weaklings to kill.
The others turn away from me and the body, slowly vanishing into the rapidly retreating fog.
I load the first bolt into the crossbow and take aim at the head of the boy from District 2. He's the strongest, the hardest to take down. It's got to be him first. I calmly pull the trigger, watching as the bolt flies from the bow and into his brain. He falls to the ground, and a cannon booms.
"Aiden?" the girl says, sounding shocked. "What-" She looks back to see me loading another bolt into the crossbow, like I didn't kill someone merely seconds before.
"Why?" she asks, right before the bolt enters her head. Then she collapses, and says nothing more.
Two down, one to go.
"Hello?" I cry out helplessly to the girl from Four. "Did you just kill someone?"
"No. Did you?" Her voice sounds close. I start creeping silently towards it.
"No. Where are you?"
"Over here. Follow the sound of my voice."
Instead of coming at her head on, I sneak around behind her. Readying my knife, I silently lower myself to the ground, to the level in which my hand is level with her ankle.
Then I slice through her Achilles' tendon, cutting through with one efficient stroke.
Now she won't be able to walk. She falls to the ground, screaming and clutching at her ankle. In a flash, I am on top of her, pinning her to the ground and holding my knife to her throat.
"You…" she gasps. "You betrayed us."
"Are you really that surprised?" I growl.
"You're the one who killed your district partner, aren't you?"
"Yes, and I would do it again if I had the chance."
"But- but why?" She sounds so hurt; I almost decide to answer her nicely. Almost.
"You and District 2 were so busy assuming that I was just another dumb bitch from District 1, but I am so much more. And when the others see the faces of four careers in the sky tonight, they'll have the same realization that you did. That I am the one to watch out for. Difference is, they will actually have time to be scared."
"District 1 will scorn you. You'll be an outcast"
"Why doesn't anyone get that I already was? I'm not like them; I never will be. I will never lower myself to that level." I take a deep breath and calm myself. "Any last words?"
"Rot in hell, you backstabbing bitch."
"With pleasure," I say, as I drag the blade in my hand across her neck. I roll off her and give a triumphant whoop. Not even thblood getting under my perfectly manicured nails can bother me now.
I look up at the sky, at the cameras that are broadcasting my victory all over Panem at this exact moment.
"See, District 1? Proof that I don't belong with you is right in front of both of us. I'm not sure your average tribute is smart enough to carry out those kills, much less plan it for a week and a half ahead of time." I will get in so much trouble when I get back to the Capitol, but I don't even care anymore.
But when I turn around to set off to kill other tributes, a wall of extremely disgusting-smelling hair collides with me, and I tumble to the ground.
I have just time to say, "What the hell?" before a dog's face explodes into my line of vision.
"Crap," I say, as the dog mutt sniffs my face hungrily. It opens its bloody maw, revealing long, saber-like teeth, and-
I bolt awake.
I almost scream, but I catch myself just in time, glancing at the glowing numbers on my digital alarm clock. 2:53 a.m.; if I had screamed, I would have woken up my entire family.
Why did I want to scream so badly, if what I was scared of was just a dream?
I had dreamed of the Hunger Games. If I was a victor of the games, having these dreams would be a normal occurrence, reliving the games in nightmares instead of dreaming good things.
But I am not a victor. I do not relive my experiences from the arena, because I do not have any experiences from the arena.
No, I am scared because tomorrow- sorry, today, since it's 2:53 in the morning- is Reaping Day, and I'm scared that what I dream might happen to me in the near future.
