Johanna Mason: Returning from Hell

Note: this is NOT my character, Suzanne Collins owns all rights to the hunger games, this is simply a story of my own.

The train seemed to take forever to get home, but it finally reached the beloved forests of home. Pine trees. Lumber. It's home alright. I won't miss the Capitol, one huge lie that was eager to watch me die, or the arena where the only people for company were murderers.

I killed that young girl from twelve. Grey eyes, skinny with dark hair and no hope. I remember the axe flying from my hand, knowing it would reach its target. Knowing it would kill. I didn't see her eyes. But I saw her head jerk back in surprise, I watched her fall. A soft thump… Why do these thoughts enter my brain?

Home. I must remember that smiles will await me there. But I still feel fluttering in my heart. And it's not a good feeling. I was a sweet girl who climbed trees, gave smiles, made chairs and other pieces of furniture. Now I jump at the slightest noise and I have trouble expressing happiness.

Murderer. Stop! You killed five people at the age of fifteen. I had to! What will your family think?

"STOP IT!" great now everyone on the train thinks I'm crazy. Oh well. I'm home. Soon they will be nothing but a memory.

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