All children in my district, District 2, were forced to fight, survival of the fittest our only goal. I remember as a young boy, standing there in line with all the others my age. A sense of fear and excitement intermingled with a nervous feverishness in my chest. For all it was portrayed as a birth right, and for half of us at least, a right to manhood.
The first day they talked to us. Taught us what all life bar our own was worth, summed in one simple word. "Nothing." That simple fact was to be ingrained in our minds until the end. From that day we were no longer allowed to have friends, they were only to be considered comrades at best. The only reason why any of us had contact with our family was we needed a reason to survive that was outside ourselves. All other emotional attachments were seen as dangerous.
We were put into groups, each one containing some of every age group, numbers dwindling as people became older, and one teacher. The older ones were expected to help teach those younger than them. They didn't only show us how to fight but to survive. Building fires, finding shelter, water and other necessities, how to bullshit for the camera was also included.
For the first few years our body was our only weapon and yet deaths still occurred. I was the first of my age to commit such an act. I remember in detail how I wrapped my hands around another boy's slim throat. How with blunt finger nails he clawed at my hands. How he gasped for breath. But the one image most engraved in my mind was the life draining out of his eyes, the deep brown being overlaid with a pale grey hue.
It took a while to finally realise what I had done. Even with all the people telling me that it wasn't a big deal, for that moment it was and as my first kill would always be. I was congratulated, told that his death meant a step forward for my life. Still killing an animal and killing a person was different. Initially I had always thought that it would feel like that, like a piece of my soul had been torn from my chest, until one day I realised that I had become numb to it. Until one day I realised that I liked it.
Years passed, The Hunger Games came and went, my name having never been pulled out though really in my District they rarely had to be when all older ones were ready to volunteer. Sometimes I wondered if it would be easier to just volunteer as tribute. Get is out of the way. Yet every year I let the opportunity go by. I refused to believe that it was fear that stopped me from raising my hand and stepping out. More I hoped that it was a sign that I still held some sense of self-preservation, that because I didn't yet consider myself the best it was a waste of my time and talent.
Then the year it happened, still with two years left till I was eighteen and free, I knew I was ready. Standing there surrounded by others I waited for my name, internally begged for that ridiculous looking lady to call for me. She didn't. Something bubbled inside me and unable to contain it I lunged forward. As an outside force was controlling me I finally volunteered, it was better me than some kid who was obviously not ready like I had once been. My District was of the few that cheered when the tributes went up, cheer for our chance to become champion. I joined a brunette girl that I had never had much to do with, Clove if I recalled right, and together we would go to the Games.
Our time spent at the Capitol, it was different there they looked so weird and happy. They even served us deserts; it was almost like they wanted to fatten us up to become dog food. There we trained, trying to entice sponsors, which was in one part a big waste of time and in another a good way to get to know ones opponents strengths and weaknesses. With ease I had used my supposed natural leadership skills to form a group. It had surprised me when that Peeta kid came to join but instead of declining him, he was accepted as someone possibly useful. The whole time I couldn't help but be entertained by the brunette, Katniss, I would definitely enjoy killing her.
Once we were in the arena it was a relief, as if my whole life had been leading up to this point. The first day was the best. The bloodbath, so many lives taken in such little time. Initially we, the Career Pack (plus Peeta) went stealth like around to kill the others. I found it strange to have Glimmer often lay in my arms as we slept, it was a sign of humanity that would get her killed. I wasn't sad when she died though it did annoy me to no end knowing what Peeta had done, he would have been dead already without me.
However eventually those of the Career Pack left became bored and decided that the easy way to go about things was to live in peace with all the supplies and wait for them to come to us. As predicted one by one people died, a canon blast boomed through the air each time, music to my ears. A few of them had been by my hands. Then soon enough we were at the end. Hounds on our tail with only me and the District 12 kids left. I climbed onto a ship for safety, them joining soon after. We fought two against one but in my eyes it was fair enough.
In the end I had my arms around Peeta's neck, prepared to twist it at a moment's notice. In that position, blabbing about how taking one more life didn't matter because I was dead anyway it all dawned on me. When I was told that other people's lives meant nothing, so did mine. However those were people with humanity in them, humanity that I had lost long ago and if a human was worth nothing than mine was worth even less than that. As I fell down to my death, I was glad that the pain spreading through me took my mind off my insignificance. Death the thing that I had once enjoyed had now finally come to take be and Katniss' pitying hands. I guess in death I was finally free.