THE 7TH HUNGER GAMES

Traff Fletcher

He knew he was going to die. A boy from 12 was destined for the Bloodbath, he thought as the counter ticked down agonizingly slowly. But as the gong rang, and he escaped, he felt more hopeful than before.
It was torture. The whole Games was torture. Every face displayed in the sky at night, every day of hunger and freezing cold, every moment he wished he would just die. Every second he thought of his family, huddled around the tiny TV in the main room, watching him, hoping.
Then he won. Nobody believed it would happen, but it did.