Disclaimer: I do not own the Hunger Games. However, I do own this. So no one can steal this, all right? We clear on that? Good. Honestly, does anyone even read these? If you did read this, post a review saying you did. And I won't believe you unless you use the key phrase "Aurora Borealis Whales". Then I can check to see if you actually read it or not.
AN: Ok, so I wrote this story in my head a couple weeks ago, and so I decided to post in. Because I have nothing better to do with my life. Seriously, I bet I could be finding the cure for cancer right now, but nope! I've got more important things to do. Like write fanfiction. That is what this world has come to. Anyway, if you catch any of my stupid spelling mistakes, please inform me through a review. Enjoy! But seriously please do review.
Allan Redfearn (17)- District 2
Sunlight streams through my window, bleeding through my eyelids. Forced to get up, I sleepily shuffle out of bed. Lazily walking around my room, my eyes fall to a small stack of clothes, neatly folded my mother. A suit and tie, with matching dress shoes.
Then I remember what day it is.
The Reaping. The day no one in my district fears, because they know someone is going to go for the glory and volunteer. No one except me. Because I'm the one who is going to do the volunteering.
Not that I'm backing out of it. I'd never do that, though granted, it wouldn't be that hard. All it would take is reaching the stage slightly slower than someone else, and I'd never have to leave home. I'd never have to leave my parents, or my friends, or my girlfriend, Kara. But my dad had always wanted to be a Victor when he was younger. If it wasn't for the accident that left him paralyzed, he probably would have volunteered. But he couldn't. And it broke his heart. He never told me directly to start Career training, but he always hinted at it. He was so proud of me when I did. He almost cried when I was picked to volunteer, he was so happy. And now it's up to me to keep him happy. By staying alive. For his sake and for mine.
I've tried to tell him that I don't think I can do it, that I won't be strong enough, but I can't. Because every time I see him, he greets me with such a proud smile that I can't help but do what he wants.
Heading down the stairs and across the hall, I find myself in the kitchen. My mother is at the stove, making breakfast, while my father is already at the table. Upon seeing me, his face lights up in pure delight. I hate it when that happens.
"Allan!" he says while rolling his wheelchair towards me. "How are you feeling?"
"Fine, I guess." I reply. "Just a little nervous."
"Don't worry about a thing, son." he beams. "You'll be the Victor for sure! There's no way you can lose! Not my son!"
"You'll do fine, dear." says my mother, walking over with a huge stack of pancakes. "I'm sure you'll do your best."
"Thanks, Mom." I say, biting into my breakfast. I love them both, but I think they have too much confidence in me. What if doing my best doesn't cut it? I'll die.
I am going to die because my parents had too much confidence in me.
After breakfast, I head on upstairs for a shower and a clothes change. I'm grateful for the luxury of hot water, since I know not everyone has it. I hop out of the shower, dry off, and am surprised to see that this suit is brand new. It must have cost my parents a fortune. I almost feel guilty for wearing it. The bright blue tie matches my eyes. I suppose that's why my mother bought it.
I walk downstairs, and see my parents have already dressed, and seem to be eagerly awaiting my arrival. As I approach them, my father pulls out his pocket watch, an old family heirloom. It's made of brass, with a silver loop around the edge and a tiny diamond implanted in the center. My father cleans it on his shirt, inspects it, and then presses it into my hands.
"Your district token."
I gasp. "You can't give me this! What if it breaks? Or is lost? Or-
My father laughs. "It'll be fine. It's protected our family with its luck for generations. It will protect you in the arena."
"Open it up." says my mother. I pull the two compartments apart and see a picture stuck to the inside. It's a family photo, taken back when I was seven. I looked at tiny me, grinning at the camera without a care in the world.
"I want you to know that we will be with you wherever you go." I glance up to see my mother on the verge of tears. With a jolt, I realize she understands the risks, and knows how small a chance I have of making it out. I love her even more now.
"Alright, let's be off, then." says my father. We make our way to the public square, to the stage where I will soon stand. Where I will volunteer for death. I take a deep breath.
I think I'm ready to die.
Maricela Vitolo (16)- District 2
Hurry up!
I've never been known for patience. But still, this thing should just start already. The sooner the Reaping's done, the sooner I'm off the Capital. The sooner I'm off to the Capital, the sooner I'm in the arena. And the sooner I'm in the arena, the sooner I get to kill. And rip and tear and stab slice till I drown myself in delicious blood…
One might call me a psychopath. I like to call myself a scientist. Who happens to like seeing the innards of living things. Preferably humans. Who I just killed.
I've loved cutting things up since longer than I can remember. But eventually, slicing through small rodents and the occasional vegetables just didn't cut it anymore. I need to feel what it's like to rip through a human. And the Hunger Games is a heaven-sent chance.
I'm not even planning on surviving the games. Once I've legally killed a human, I doubt I'll ever be able to go back to a life of hunting rabbits. It just wouldn't be the same. I wouldn't be able to handle it. And whose innards are better to take a peek at then my own?
I twist my bracelet around my wrist. And again. And again. And again. And again. Why doesn't the Reaping start already? I'm getting really impatient here! I have people to slaughter!
Finally, the Reaping starts. A boys name is about to be called, but before our escort can even read the victims name, a fist shoots up from the seventeens' section.
"I volunteer!" It's a boy with bright blond hair, and stunning blue eyes. He looks like the typical male Career, tall, well built, and muscly. He announces his name as Allan Redfearn. Hmm, Allan. Sounds interesting. I think I'll slowly slice his head off later.
The escort reaches his strangely purple hand into the girl's bowl. Drawing out a slip of paper, he pauses for a second, clears his throat, and begins to read. But before he can even begin, I shriek, "I volunteer as tribute!"
I'm running as fast as I can up the stage. I don't care that I'm in a dress, I don't care that I'm in heels. None of those things matter anymore. All that matters is a world of blood and bones and screams.
This is going to be so much fun.
AN: Well that's the first chapter. I'll be posting some other ones tonight. Please review!