Hey FF community,
First off I would like to say thank you for taking the time to come and read through my first story on here. I am very new to this but want to put material up if a decent quality, that being said I am always open to reviews/comments/concerns to improve the content of this site and provide a better experience for everyone. I hope you all enjoy my first story, I have a few others in the works and may post the beginnings of those at some point as well.
Happy Reading Everyone (and please let me know what you all think (good or bad!) in the reviews,
EralissëGrace
Being a career is supposed to be fun. Right? Wrong. Dead wrong. Its necessary because of where I live but it's not fun. Living in District 2 I volunteered as a tribute when I was nine, as per the norm, but I offered up myself not only to keep my family fed but to keep my little sister out of the games. In Panem the government has an annual competition where two teenagers are chosen from each of the 12 districts to fight to the death with only one emerging victor. It supposedly wasn't always like this though at least not until District 13 rebelled. They were stupid and ill equipped so the peacekeepers quickly squashed them, and in return we are reminded every year who we owe everything to. The Hunger Games are our District's way to prove how we deserve the favors of the Capitol as we can and do bring pride to our district by winning regularly, every family is required to do their part. These are the reasons why I am now a tribute in training for the 73rd Hunger Games.
The morning sun came much earlier than I would have liked. Today was the day I was to leave my little room on the floor my family occupied to travel to the center of the city and enter the training facilities for the first time. I kept reminding myself how I was helping my family and how my volunteering would provide tessere for them, as well as keep my sister from being thrown into this chaos. I was still staring at the ceiling when my mother walked in, I could see it out of the corner of my eyes she knew too, the way her shoulders were slumped. We had a pretty good relationship, nothing overly affectionate, just an understanding of each other and the way things had to be. I knew there wasn't a reason to delay the inevitable, that a trainer would be at my house shortly to collect me on their trip down to the capital and I slid off my bed, my bare feet hitting the cold tiled floor effectively waking me up the rest of the way. "Morning mom". I said looking up at her. She looked tired and like she had been crying. I knew she probably was, she never became a tribute as her older brother volunteered for her family, and so she never had to learn to control her emotions and expressions, something I had already been schooled in. "It'll be okay mom". I murmured in hopes she'd understand I was okay with this, or I was trying to be.
"I know sweetheart. I know." She pulled me up into a hug and I remember letting myself cry just one tear at the thought this would be the last hug I got, probably for a long time. "Come on we got to get some food in you. The trainer will be here soon and we wouldn't want you to leave without breakfast." She smiled and I nodded. Hoping she wouldn't see the faint traces of the path that tear left on my small cheek. "Change into your clothes and I'll have something ready when you're changed" and with a click of my door she was gone and I was alone again. Alone was something I used to cherish, that is before I became a career, before everything happened. I relished the quiet times when my brain could work uninterrupted. Now I realize just how much things have changed even if I didn't understand that then.
My family wasn't overly wealthy by any standard and living on the bare necessities was commonplace for us, so once I had pulled on my clothes which consisted of worn leggings and a plain pullover shirt, I was surprised when I walked into the hallway leading to our kitchen and smelled cinnamon. Greeting me was my mom holding a generous bowl of cinnamon oatmeal and a tall glass of milk. I couldn't remember the last time we had something other than plain oatmeal made with hot water and a slice of bread, if we were lucky. Everyone from my family was already seated at the small table, my dad and sister already tucking into their own bowls of oatmeal and for some reason seeing this made me happier than any amount of food could.
I barely had time to finish my small bowl of oatmeal before there was a heavy knock on the door. My mom hadn't even opened it up yet and I knew who it was, the trainer was here already and before I could really process what was happening I was being ushered out. I didn't look back, if I had I would have seen my frail mother clutching her sweater around her waist, tears slipping off her chin, I'm glad I didn't. As soon as the door closed an iron fist was clamped around my upper arm dragging me to the street. I didn't bother resisting, but that apparently didn't matter to the trainer as the hand stayed where it was to the point where I had begun to feel my pulse in my fingers. Only once we reached the transport did my arm get released and as another person in a similar fitted jumpsuit opened the door I was shoved soundlessly inside. Stumbling up the steps I made sure to straighten as quick as I could before taking in my new surroundings. The transport wasn't full by any means, only two other kids who looked about my age were on it. A small girl with shoulder cropped brown hair sat at the end of the one down bench seat and a lean guy with a stone cold exterior and pale blonde hair to match his icy persona on the other end, leaving me no choice but to sit myself between the two of them. Damn. Given the other seats not being pulled down I didn't really have a choice either. Keeping my back rigid and feet together I looked straight ahead and the three of us remained quiet the entire ride to the training facility.
Suddenly the doors slid open revealing a man who was clearly the superior to the other men we had previously seen, his hair slicked back and a gruesome scar stretching from his left temple to his chin. "Cheer up kiddies!" He said sarcastically, "You're gonna be heros" and he turned finishing his proclamation with a malicious smirk as he sauntered off onto the platform. Turning my head I glanced out the windows, it didn't seem much like a hero's welcome to me. Just a line of more transports arriving and then others unloading more kids with expressions whom I guessed matched mine. The guard who collected us stepped up to me and grabbed my arm again, his other hand grabbing the arm of the boy who rode with us. The second guard grabbed the girl's arm and we proceeded to the large glass paned building in front of us where we were ushered to points that looked like information centers. I came to discover they weren't though. They were check-in points, where the guards gave information on the kids they had brought from the transports. The guards who were insistent on keeping an iron fist on our arms shoved us forward when it was our turn. The other girl was roughly nudged forward her eyes remaining downcast, the guard gruffly announced,
"Clove Merriman, second daughter of Suzanne and Shane Merriman, third ring".
The man holding my arm then shoved me forward much like his counterpart had done to Clove. I kept my eyes up and looked directly at the stoic man recording our information. "Rachel Wilkins, eldest daughter of Diane and John Wilkins, third ring". Then he shoved the boy forward and similar to how I reacted he kept his chin up, a defiant look in his eyes. "Cato Hadley, third son of Julliane and Stephan Hadley, third ring". Up close his eyes held more ice than they did on the train, an almost knowing look about his features. Then again he has two older brothers. But, doesn't only oldest usually get sent? My thoughts were interrupted as upon the completion of our check-in the guard shoved Cato and I in front of him again and began marching us towards yet another room. Clove was towed behind us, looking much like a rag doll with her limp posture. "You go in there" the guard gestured to Cato with a nod of his head towards the door to our right. "N' you girls go in that room" Clove and I were directed towards the door on the left. I numbly walked to the handle and pulled it open, not giving the acknowledgment to the guard that I had heard him, since he didn't seem to care if I did or didn't.
Inside was a table, behind which three girls in red stood. Piles of identical black, grey, and red jumpsuits were stacked up, but that wasn't the most intimidating thing. In the front of the room stood an older lady who was anything but what her frail body begged you to believe. Even at nine I could tell she could kill me right here and now, probably not even blinking an eye at it, and I wouldn't even put up a fight in trying to stop her. Her silver streaked hair slicked back into a tight functional bun gave her head an even sharper look than her immensely pointed nose already did, but when she talked was when I was fully intimidated. A voice which didn't match her body barked out for us to strip down to our undergarments and put on the jumpsuits assigned. Neither of us even thought of doing otherwise and immediately complied. I murmured a thank you to the girl who handed me mine and a sharp crack was felt across my shoulders, forcing me to drop my jumpsuit and catch myself by grabbing the table in front of me. Apparently I gasped in pain or maybe shock I don't know but I felt another lash and the slow trail of blood drops, the result of the whip held by the esteemed sergeant as I had so sarcastically dubbed her.
"You are not ever to speak, much less, thank an avox for anything. You are a tribute representing your district its best you start acting like one. Secondly, we do not show weakness by crying out in pain. It is something anyone and everyone will not hesitate to exploit. Consider yourself let off easy for this one." She tightened her thin lips into an almost flat line and proceeded to order me to get my jumpsuit on and get into the orientation room. It was here that I fully realized how I was going to be trained to act, it was also here that I promised myself I wouldn't lose sight of who I was before I stepped foot in the orientation center.