The 50th Hunger Games

From Maysilee Donner"s POV

Hunger Games Fan Fiction

Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.

Prologue

I'm walking through a wood with little supplies and low energy, I haven't eaten well in weeks, and the fear that lingers in my chest seems to be trying to eat me alive. I still can't believe I'm here, in the Games, fighting for survival.

It seems as though I've been walking for an eternity. My body aches for me to stop and rest, but something stronger than my lethargy keeps me going all through the night. I'm searching for something, I don't know what, but I know that I must find it soon or something terrible will happen.

It seems to take forever, but soon daylight breaks over the peaks and the mockingjays start to call to each other. If it were anyplace else I'd sing a tune and listen to them repeat it and feel so happy as it echoed all around me. but I'm not somewhere safe. I'm in the Hunger Games. I have to keep telling myself that as a deterrent to the insanity I feel rising in me.

It's been a day since the last death. That means that the Capitol will be thirsting for more blood. I'm still abhorred by the mentality of these people; Sending children into an outdoor arena to fight each other and try to be the sole survivor of this sick kill game. I know that there are only a two tributes left so I am sure there will be a confrontation for me today. I take out the last of my food and eat it then drain my water bottle. I don't know if I'll be alive tomorrow and if I am then I'll probably be the victor so I won't have to worry about food anyway.

I walk for an hour or so before it happens. Just as I'm passing a large tree she pops out. She isn't a Career so I know she probably won't know how to kill me.

She is shocked at seeing me and so I take this opportunity to make my move. I take the backpack I've been holding and swing it at her. It hits her in the head and she stumbles back. Then I see her pull out a knife and she lunges at me.

I sidestep out of the way and she flies by. In a second, she's whipped around and slices my arm. I scream and pick up a stick for defense. Swinging up high, I again come in contact with her head. This time she falls and doesn't come back up. The cannon fires and I sob in relief and horror. I never wanted to kill her or the others I was forced to kill; I just want to go home.

I inspect my wound. It's cut on the top so I won't die of blood loss, but maybe infection. I can't bear to stay here with death three feet away so I start to run in the opposite direction.

I'm getting away fast when suddenly a spear flies out of nowhere and sinks into my side.

I don't scream. It doesn't hurt that bad, but maybe that's just the shock of dying. I lay face up looking at the birds flying overhead, all different types. When the familiar white tipped wings of the mockingjay soar above me, I hear the cannon and then there's a bright light that blinds me from the past world.

Part 1

Pre-Arena

1

I jolt awake with cold sweat running down my face. It takes me a moment to register my surroundings. I'm in my room…I'm safe…everything's going to be OK, I think curling my legs up into my chest and wrapping my arms around them. I bite my pajamas and silently let my tears fall. It seemed so real. I can still feel the fear and desperation.

I rise from bed silently so I don't wake Melanie up. I pace the room, as silent as a trained hunter. Melanie, my sister, lies sleeping soundly. It's very rare that she does because of her condition. I tuck the covers closer to her and walk down the stairs to the candy shop.

The mornings in District Twelve are beautiful, but have a dreariness about them that is hard to overlook. I stand on the porch of our candy shop and lean against one of the pillars. Our candy shop is small and quaint, but so is everything in District Twelve. I love it here though. The brisk autumn mornings that can take your breath away with a slight breeze, the summer heat when you just want to run and jump into the small man-built lake that lies at the mines in case of a fire, the winters that chill you to the bone until you get a bowl of hot soup from Greasy Sae.

I close my eyes and listen to the silence. I can hear faint noises like a bird calling, or some mother running around in the kitchen making breakfast, probably wondering if it will be the last for one of her children.

This thought leads to the memory of the spear entering my side and I cringe. Just then I hear my canary start to call through the window. I go and lift the cloth off its cage and listen as it starts to sing a dainty little tune that calms me. I was given the bird on my fourteenth birthday by my friend Miller Mellark. I used to go over to his house and learn how to decorate cakes and pastries and I loved his canary bird. I remember that when he came over with it I flew into his arms and actually started crying. It was the nicest thing someone ever did for me. I named it Mill after him.

Mill usually works as an alarm clock so I'm not surprised to see my mother come into view. She is still in her nightgown and when she sees me, her face contorts into fear for a second then returns to a smile.

I understand her fear. Today's the day of the reaping, when all the children between the ages of twelve and eighteen must pool their names for the Capitol to select at random one boy and one girl and take them from their homes and are brought to the Capitol. They train and are interviewed before being forced into an outdoor arena, with twenty-two other children from each district, to fight to the death. Only one tribute comes out as a victor and the tribute's district is showered with food and gifts throughout that year. All twelve districts must do this as a reminder of the Dark Days when we tried to rebel against the Capitol and gain freedom.

I've been in the reaping for five years and haven't ever been picked, but this year is the Quarter Quell. A Quarter Quell happens every twenty-five years. It's a time when The Capitol can change up the rules and do awful things. In the first one, the capitol forced the districts to vote on who they would send to the arena. This year, The Fiftieth Anniversary of the Hunger Games, twice the amount of tributes are going to be picked for the Games. Meaning that instead of one boy and one girl, there will be two boys and two girls going to the arena from each of the twelve districts. Forty-eight tributes, It will be a horrible year.

"Hello, May, how about you help me make breakfast?" My mother asks.

I am drawn from my thoughts and I nod in reply. We start frying eggs and cooking bacon. District Twelve is a very poor district; most people starve to death than die of disease. Since most people can't get enough food here, the children must ask for tesserae. Tesserae is where you put your name into the reaping a greater amount of times and receive oil and grain as a gift for being so daring. When you turn twelve, your name is put in the reaping once and when you're thirteen it's put in twice. By the time you're eighteen your names put in seven times, unless you take tesserae. I have my name in five times, but I live in the market part of town which is the richer side. The Seam children must put their names in more times to survive. I know a girl my age that has her name in twenty times.

"So is Melanie doing okay?" asks mom.

"Yes, she slept through the night. I didn't even hear her groan, maybe she's getting better," I say. My mother nods, but I can see she knows it never will.

My twin sister, Melanie, has a condition. She gets headaches sometimes that leave her bedridden for days in the dark. We don't know what brings them on, they just happen about three times a month unless she does too much work or stays outside too long. My mother has had to teach her school since she can't leave the house most often.

As usual, my father comes down to the kitchen at the exact moment we finish making breakfast. The smile on his face that is always present is as bright as ever. My father never likes us to see him upset. If he ever grieves or is sad, he never shows us. I guess it's because the sweet shop owner must look like a kind and happy person if he wants to sell his merchandise. You never want to get anything at a store when the worker is sullen or rude.

We lay everything on the table and I go upstairs to get Melanie up. The room is still dark since the curtains aren't drawn so I have to feel my way to the side of the bed. Slightly tapping her arm, I whisper, "Mel? Melanie. It's time to get up."

She groans and turns over. I roll my eyes and shake her shoulder again. "Melanie! Breakfast is ready. It's time to get up now."

She suddenly sits up and shrieks. I start and then climb into the bed and wrap my arms around her. She silently sobs into my shoulder and I rub her back reassuring her that it is going to be OK.

"I dreamed that I was in the woods looking for you and I couldn't find you, but you kept crying out. Then my head started to hurt and I fell unconscious as your screams rang out." She gasps the story out and I hold her tighter.

"It was just a dream. I'm right here and I'm not going anywhere. How does your head feel now?" I ask.

"It's fine," she replies.

"Okay, I'm going to open the curtains then. Tell me if it starts to hurt," I say and she nods.

I rise and go to the curtain. Just as I reach it Mother and Father come rushing into the room. My mom runs right to her and my dad looks at me with a questioning look. I mouth "the reaping" and he nods.

I stare out the window as my mom and dad console Melanie. The sun has risen completely and from this height I can see across to the Justice building where the reaping will be held. The Peackeepers are hosing down the steps and setting up the roped off section were the children stand separated from the adults.

Then I hear the train whistle and see the Capitol train pull into the station. Its silver sides and golden top is an odd combination with District Twelve's drab grays and blacks. The trains that I normally see are the coal trains that transport the coal we mine to the Capitol. This train is used specifically for the transportation of the tributes to the Capitol.

I have no doubt that at this moment, Georgette Pelling, the woman who comes from the Capitol each year to read the names of the tributes and who acts as the tribute's chaperone over the time there in the Capitol, is waltzing down the train station in one of her crazy outfits that the people in the Capitol wear.

We eat most of breakfast in silence, putting in a word or two here and there. When we finish and Melanie and I have all the dishes done, we go upstairs to get ourselves ready. I go and put on a muted red dress that falls to my ankles and has a black belt that wraps around my waist with a golden colored belt buckle, imitation of course.

Melanie decides to wear a white dress with a pink sash and pulls her hair into a bun in the back of her head. I, on the other hand, like my hair loose and let my blonde tresses wrap around my face. As a last minute I grab the pencil-looking hair pin that is a staple for many of the girls in District twelve. I put it in Melanie's hair and it sets it off nicely. She smiles at me and I say, "Now you look good."

That wasn't my real reason; I always put something of home in my sister's hair in case she is picked since you are allowed one keepsake from home in the arena. I'm not sure if a hair pin would be allowed, but she'll have it in the Capitol at least.

I turn her around and look into her face. We're identical twins, yet we have such different personalities. Her green eyes show deep into me and I say "Promise me that if I'm picked, you won't volunteer. You have to promise."

"I promise only if you do," she replies.

I shake my head. "No deal. I have to; you can't go in there with your head. I, at least, stand a chance. If you got one of your bad ones and then died, I'd never forgive myself. Promise me."

She looks reluctant but then says, "I would stand a chance, but fine, have it your way. We're not going anyway."

I smile and nod. "Okay then, let's go."

We walk down the steps our goodbyes and see our parents standing on either side of the bottom of the stairwell. They both look upset, but dad still has a smile on his face. He is the definition of strength. Most people see the merchant men as weak and unworthy because they don't go into the mines every day. But my father is neither. Yes, he owns a tiny shop that sells cookies and sweets, but if there was ever a catastrophe at the mines or anywhere he'd be the first to respond and risk his life to save another. My mother is a little more emotional and is crying silently.

I walk down first and stand in front of my father. He puts his hand on my shoulder and lifts my chin. "Remember, you're a Donner and we don't hang our heads low," he says. This breaks me and I start crying into his shoulder.

I regain myself and stand straight. Then I turn to my mother and switch places with Melanie who was talking with Mom. Now I stand in front of her and she wipes some tears from her eyes. "Always know that your father and I love you with all our hearts and are always with you," she says. I nod and hug her as well.

We've said and Melanie and I stand at the door. Our parents turn to us and Dad says "Go now, we'll see you in the square." We nod and leave the house.

We walk for a few minutes in silence and then when we pass the apothecary, I see our friend Amelia saying goodbye to her parents. I stop Melanie and she looks up, realizing what I'm doing. She nods and waits with me.

Amelia comes out at that moment and when she sees us, her face lights up a bit. "Hey, what are you doing here? I thought you'd be in the square by now."

"We thought we'd wait for you, since you don't have any siblings. We thought if you wanted, we could be temporary sisters so you don't have to stand alone" I say.

She smiles and says "I'd like that. I'm sorry I'm just so scared." her tears start to fall.

Melanie walks up to her and puts her arm around her. "Hey so are we, but we have to believe we're going to be okay," she says. She always knows what to say. It's something I admire about her. Amelia starts to breathe deeply and then she stands straight and grabs both mine and Melanie's hands and says, "Well sisters, let's go face our inevitable doom." She says the last word in mock horror and I find myself doing something I never thought I'd do on this day.

I'm laughing.