I walk into the academy, like I have been doing every day for the past eight years since I was 10. I'm 18 now. I am ready to go. As I reach the main training room, I realize that I am ready to fight. My muscles are prepared for the toughest opponents. My instincts are sharp as a sword that could decapitate someone. I am also extremely skilled with a sword. In fact, if I have a sword, I can take down any one that comes in between me and the sweet victory that I will take away from the games. I have become the ultimate weapon of destruction. My whole body is designed to kill. This academy has transformed me from a small, innocent boy, into a rogue, and ruthless, violent assassin. I know that they have prepared me for the games. Every time I approach a training dummy, I am able to slice through it within mere seconds. I am more skilled in hand to hand combat than the person who trained me. I can take them down with ease. My punches are strong enough to knock the punching bags down to the ground. I can even lift them and toss them a good 20 feet. The reaping is tomorrow. I have proven myself worthy of volunteering to represent District 2. No one will beat me. I know I will go down in history as the victor of the 74th annual Hunger Games. I know the odds are in my favor.
