The 73rd Hunger Games

Reviewer feedback:

hungergamesfan51

Thanks for your review. Oh, I know. That was the exact reason why I chose District 12. This story was created for the intention of getting the readers to almost familiarise and empathise with the characters, though knowing that it's only a matter of time before they die.

I hope you like this chapter. Like last chapter, this is the first draft and will be re-mastered at a later date.

Oh, one more note. I am a British writer, so the language I use may be slightly bizarre to American viewers. On the whole, everything should be completely understandable, but if there's any confusion, let me know. Thank you for reading.

02: Destinies Locked

As I make my way to the stage, I'm caught a little off guard by the overwhelming racing thoughts of oh fuck I'm going to die I'm going to die on the big screen and the Capitol get to laugh and make bets on who's the one who gets to kill me, which is perfectly understandable considering my current predicament.

After all, I'm probably going to die on public television.

My legs have officially turned into gelatinous mush. Breathe now, I try to remind myself in-sync with my pipe-bomb pulse, one step at a time. One leg in front of the other…

It feels like an eternity and a day before I'm standing next to Andy, and I'm aware that I now inherit that same fear in my eyes as I just moments ago glimpsed in hers. She seems to recognise me, and in this polite recognition, perhaps a reminder she's just as fucked as I am, she sends a knowing nod in my direction. I feel an odd amount of comfort in it.

This is the most interaction I have ever had with Andromeda Heron. I won't be surprised if it stays that way, considering that we're expected to kill each other once we enter the arena of the Capitol's choice.

Yeah, I wonder how on earth we're going to fit a worth-while conversation in there.

Haymitch hasn't arrived yet. Though, I'm not surprised if I'm honest. In the seventy-three years of the Hunger Games, he is the one of the only two tributes of District 12 who've actually come alive. The other one died long ago, presumably from old age or some other ailment that's related to lifelong luxury until rigor mortis bites you in the arse.

A drunken chant announces the official arrival of Haymitch. As expected, just like last year, the old bastard's completely intoxicated. It makes me wonder exactly what form of alcohol he consumes to get that delirious, or if he just chugs everything and anything he can get his hands on to make a certainly interesting cocktail.

The aforementioned victorious tribute of District 12 hollers something incoherent as he stumbles, wobbling from side to side with every step, on to the stage and literally collapses into one of the chairs, proceeding to topple it over. Once again, District 12 is made a mockery of because our one living representation of our survival abilities is as drunken as you can get without requiring medical attention. Well, that's certainly a great start to this year's Hunger Games.

Mayor Undersee, who has been quiet since before the selection, merely attempts to cover his shamed face. He failed, as it's clear to all that he's just as enthusiastic about Haymitch's sudden entrance as everyone else here. The poor man. He's just been humiliated on public television again. Just like last year.

The magenta-haired demon delightfully known as Effie actually hasn't said anything in a while. I'm somewhat thankful, because for now I don't have to listen to her voice for at least a good few minutes. But chances are, knowing my current lucky streak, she's just prepping up for a very lengthy one-hour speech.

If that happens, just hand me a weapon and I'll save the Capitol the trouble of eliminating me.

In my moment of almost-considered-suicide, I notice the look of near-defiance that has emerged on Andy's features. Unlike a few moments ago, she appears resilient, rebellious, almost fearless. I suppose she has to act the part, as she has a little brother she needs to return to. If she can, that is. District 12 isn't exactly known for it's on-going survivors.

I don't doubt her abilities, but I think it's incredibly unlikely either of us are coming out of this alive.

***

After they managed to get Haymitch to recompose himself, the Reaping ceremony continues. They have even asked a few people from the crowd to help keep him seated so he doesn't try anything stupid. Though reluctant as they were, they did it, knowing that merely refusing this request could risk us having the same fate as the extinct District 13.

Mayor Undersee drawls out the Treaty of Treason that no one is really paying attention to. Everyone in the crowd is either making their best bets on who'll die first or hoping for at least one of us to come home. At this exact moment, the crowd's demeanour has shifted. First one, then several more, until every member of the crowd touches the three middle fingers of their left hand to their lips and holds it out to us. A sense of pride surges through me at this act. We may not be as rich or privileged as the other districts, but no one could ever accuse District 12 of being heartless. These people have souls. They care. They hate the Capitol to an immeasurable extent but they still care for each tribute who leaves to die.

It's touching. Minutes later, the mayor finishes intoning the dreary Treaty of Treason and motions for Andy and I to shake heads. Upon contact, a weird connection is formed and an atmosphere so intense develops, almost convincing me for a moment that it's only me and her.

"I'm here to win this," she says to me, her voice quiet and barely audible but I can still hear her, "I have to come back, for Al. I'll do everything I can to come back to him."

I believe you, Andy. And I hope you do.