A Career of Death: The 72nd Hunger Games
Nicolette (Nikki) Anderson, 17, District 4
The lapping of the waves against the shore, the gentle hum of the boat's engine, the smell of salty air and fish. Very few things in the world made me feel at peace, but the combination of those things did. Father had given me the day before the reaping off, it was my first day off in well… a long time.
So, I wasn't about to let it go to waste. I stripped down to nothing, and let myself float in the salty water, far enough out to where nobody could find me unless I had told them where I was going. I had become awfully good at hiding over the years. I didn't hide normally; every other second I had been forced to spend studying, reading old accounts of past Games, watching abridged versions of past District Four victors. I had seen Finnick spear his trident through the poor kids he caught in his net hundreds of times.
Mother and Father both would make me watch Marcus's Games that night, to analyze his 'mistakes'. It was the reason I wasn't particularly keen to move from my floating.
A fish swam past my foot making me jump. I guess they didn't care too much when you were out this far. I sloshed in the water and almost smacked my head against the side of my small skiff, the engine pleasantly whirring. Being the daughter of a victor made you rich; being the daughter of two victors pretty much gave you access to anything you wanted.
Marcus and I had asked for a skiff of our own. I'd missed his piloting sorely in the years since he died, and I was horrible at it myself. I was eventually able to pick it up; it wasn't too hard when you only had one direction you wanted to go. Sighing, I grabbed the boat's edge and looked out at the sunset over the ridge. Soon I'd be plucked, primed and doted on by my mother, before her and father presented me to the district like a prized tuna.
"Where would I go?" I asked myself, looking out over the horizon. "Where would the ocean lead me if I just kept going straight?"
I'd never find out; I may very well never see this sight again. Or perhaps the next time I did, I'd have a much larger boat. I could end up dead from a spear that some ditzy blonde from District 1 chucked at me, or I could come home with a trident stained of blood, which I'd be expected to donate to the academy, who would then auction it off to the highest bidder who collected Hunger Games memorabilia. And that was tame in comparison to what they'd auction me off for.
I'd wondered in the previous few weeks what would happen with me in the Capitol after I won. Would my parents really give up their spots as mentors? Would the academy really stop sending the famous Joseph and Josephine Anderson, or even Finnick Odair, Panem's golden boy, from going to mentor? Perhaps, or perhaps not; it depended on how I performed, how many kills I made, the way in which I killed.
Yes, that was how my future would be decided. On how many scared, hungry children- many of which never would have contemplated killing before- that I killed, and the means in which I killed them.
They called tributes from District 1, 2 and 4 'Career' tributes. That's what my life would be, nothing but a career of blood and death.
I hear the distant calling of tolling of bells, seven tolls, seven o'clock. I'd be expected back soon.
Sighing, I pulled myself out of the water from the side of the boat and grabbed the pair of goggles sitting there before strapping them on and diving back into the murky depths. In the arena, the water will probably be crystal clear blue, which was a small reason- among a multitude of others- I was dreading the next few weeks. The oceans in past arenas had been too perfect, too clear.
Marcus always said that the darker tinge of green and murk gave character to our oceans at home, and I tended to agree with him.
I plunge under the waves, holding my breath, and take in the entire world beneath the water that my brother had been obsessed with.
A whole entire world! Right in front of us, and we barely know anything about it, he used to say excitedly. That was going to be his contribution, his hobby after he won. Studying marine life and learning more about the ocean to help Panem better utilize and understand it.
The girl from 8's sword had ended that dream.
I see a school of pike, a rather large tuna, and a few different clumps of seaweed gently floating at the base of upcoming underwater hills. Father had drilled into me how to hold my breath, a lesson that went hand in hand with long fasts without food or water, to prepare me for anything in the arena, so holding my breath as I swam was no problem.
My parents were psychopaths, but they understood it took much more than brute force to win the Games, a lesson they learned after Marcus died. One they would 'make up for', with me. The rest of the girls at the academy, the ones who were eighteen, had all 'not been worthy' of the opportunity to murder children, so instead of having another year to try and avoid it, the academy had chosen me, the prodigal daughter. One who's trident always found home and could hold her breath underwater for minutes at a time.
The youngest tribute from District Four since Finnick Odair; a great honor.
My attempts at finding a secret underwater cave with air for me to breath the past few years had failed, so now I was stuck with the 'honor'.
I passed a few of the fish, and I for a minute thought they stopped to look at me. Maybe I was going mad; that would have made for excellent television. Nicolette Anderson, the daughter of two victors, goes mad and starts talking to fish in the arena. They'd let the show go on for a few days, until sending some sea monster mutt to devour me, making my death extremely ironic.
Maybe I'd get lucky like Annie did, and just have an arena full of water, where I could swim away from everyone else. However, after those 'uneventful' games, I assumed they gave me at best a lake to work with. Not a sprawling ocean like I hoped, but still, perhaps after the other Careers of the pack annoyed me enough I could disappear into it. Father had trained with me dozens of times in the water, making me fight with a practice trident while staying afloat.
No... no matter how hard I tried, I wouldn't be able to escape. The only hope I had was surviving, and then I'd get the bigger boat Marcus always wanted; maybe I'd even take it and simply go, Panem had no ships that could catch me that I knew of, especially if I bought one of their best ones.
The sun beat through the water onto my neck, and I was unfortunately reminded that I needed air. I ripped off a few clumps of seaweed. My Mother could boil it and make it into a salad. My diet had been strictly monitored since the moment I learned to walk, but tonight mother said I could have whatever I wanted. I gripped the red clump of seaweed and swam up.
I sucked in the air, pushing the drenched globs of brown hair out of my face. After I do, I toss my clump of seaweed into the boat, and go to hoist myself up, but a voice almost made me fall.
"Well, well, well, is that a mermaid I spy!" it said, before a second passed and it called again. "No, just my soaking wet, naked trainee. You know Nik, you really should at least wear a swimsuit, I know a few of the local boys who would kill for that kind of view!"
"Stop teasing her Finnick!" Another voice came, and after my near heart attack subsided, I recognized it. "Do you need a towel Nik? Or dry clothes?"
I could now hear the engine of the Finnick and Annie's skiff, and I recognized them both sitting in the boat, looking down at me. Finnick smirked like a madman as he normally did, but after Annie scowled at him, he sighed and turned his back to me, waving for me to come out of the water.
Annie looked at me waiting for my answer, and I shook my head. "No thanks Annie, I got some clothes here; could use a towel though."
"How did you plan to dry yourself?" Finnick asked, his back still turned. "Were you just gonna lay in your boat and let the sun do its work?"
"Yes," I muttered, climbing back into my own boat, and catching the towel Annie tossed my way.
The sea wind sent chills down my drenched, naked body, but I only felt it for a second. Father had taken care of that as well. I'd spent nights at a time on the beach, no fire starter, no tent, only my bare hands and wits to get through the cold night. Still, a welcome warmth shot up my chest as I wiped the towel over myself.
"How long have you been out here?" Annie asked. She wore a pretty blue sundress that flapped at her knees in the wind.
"What time is it?" I asked, dropping the towel and going for the change of clothes I brought.
"7:30ish," Finnick said. "Didn't your parents teach you to tell time by the sun, or something along those lines?"
I rolled my eyes. "Yes, but I'm not supposed to show my talents to anyone in the district. Father's strict orders, it could give Drew an advantage over me."
"Drew couldn't tell his ass from his head if his parents weren't there to hold his hand," Finnick said off-handedly. "Couldn't imagine him trying to read the sun to tell time."
"Finnick, be nice!" Annie scolded him. "He's our tribute just like Nikki is. It's our job to make sure they're ready."
Drew was a Career the same as me; he'd spent his entire life in the academy like I had. He wasn't without skill of course; he could throw knives and javelins just as precisely as anyone I'd seen. He just lacked… the backbone, that's what most people at the academy said, at least. However, none of the male tributes particularly impressed, so Drew had been chosen, although it was rumored his parents- his mother being the great-granddaughter of a past victor, his father the head of a jewelry shop- had gotten money into the right hands for him to be chosen. His father's shop didn't make anything like you'd see in District 1, but it was a tourist hot spot for anyone who wanted District 4 memorabilia.
The boy himself was nice enough, always kind in the academy, one of the few who ever worked up the courage to talk to me. However, he did have the arrogance you'd expect from someone who grew up like him. Maybe not as much as the other Careers I'd meet, but it was still there.
I also couldn't ignore the fact that the word around the District was that I was the real contender for the crown from District 4 this year. The comments surely weren't going to make Drew happy; I couldn't imagine he'd kill me over it, but I'd seen worse things happen in the Games. I'd need to watch my back.
I pulled on my pair of tighter cotton trousers. When I wasn't in training clothes, I normally wore a dress, Mother wanting to 'present' her beautiful, sexy daughter to the District as we were out. That was probably going to be my angle in my interviews; Finnick and I had already discussed it. Mine would be the same as his, the pretty, sexy thing that Capitol wanted to root for, to have come back to the Capitol for them to gawk at again.
That was if I didn't decide to take my new boat out into the ocean and never return.
Finnick laughed and shook his head, still turned away from me as I dressed. "I wasn't saying that Annie, of course we'll help them both it's just… am I wrong?"
Annie huffed, and I found myself laughing too. "Honestly, I'm a bit upset it's Drew. I don't want to have to kill him… I hope someone else does it first. Would've been easier if Dareon had been picked instead."
Finnick cackled again. "HA, still wasn't deterred after you broke his wrist a month ago?"
"Nope," I said, pulling on the white tank-top, and then finally the yellow sweater. "I hate that he's the only one who'll talk to me. I'm not that intimidating am I? You can turn around by the way."
Finnick spun around in his boat, which he pulled up next to mine. He scooted next to Annie, his arm going around her shoulder. He flashed that wicked smile, which made Capital and District girls alike fawn. Finnick was just as handsome as they all said; I wasn't blind, I wouldn't deny it. He was only twenty-one now, not long out of being a child, but that didn't stop the Capitol.
My parents at one point even tried to get me to try and date him, to seduce him if need be. My father had been one of his mentors along with Mags at his Games, where he made Hunger Games history, so after Finnick's win, he clamored to have the two of us meet. However, after Marcus died, they'd decided to re-focus my attention on training. It was good too, because looking at Annie smiling and leaning into Finnick now, I never would have had a chance even if I had been interested.
No, despite his good looks, charm, and good company I never found myself attracted to Finnick in such a way. For a few years, I really counted him as my only friend, and then Annie of course too after she'd won her Games.
The two of them would be my mentors this year. It was a strict academy rule that if victors had children in Games, they weren't allowed to mentor that year. If my parents were mentors, the academy was afraid they'd show me favoritism over Drew, which they obviously would have. A small part of me hoped Annie and Finnick would do the same, considering the amount of times I'd been over their house for dinner, the few days I did have free time.
They were also the only two that knew about the spot we were in now.
Finnick looked me up and down, shrugging. "The daughter of two victors, The Deadly Anderson, a girl who's glare could cut through stone! What's there to be intimidated by!"
I picked up a clump of my seaweed and threw it at him, hitting him right in his perfect face, which got a laugh out of Annie and made me smile. After wrestling the seaweed off his face, Finnick feigned offense.
"And you wonder why everyone finds you intimidating!" he huffed, before the three of us were all laughing.
It was a rare moment for me, so I relished each second. I assumed I wouldn't be laughing much soon; I thought at times I didn't even know how. That's not what I was raised for.
I was raised to kill, and that's what I'd be forced to do.
I shrugged myself, settling down on the bench in my skiff. "Who knows, maybe that can be my angle. My muscles won't bulge out of my sleeves like a boy from District Two, but according to apparently everyone, I'm incredibly scary."
Annie smiled at her but shook her head. "That's not the only strategy you can use! You're beautiful Nikki, the Capital will love you, you'll be home safe and sound!"
I give Annie a smile, but my eyes drift to Finnick who I know has the same thoughts as I do. Annie didn't fully understand, despite how sweet she was; she either didn't understand, or didn't want to acknowledge what I'd have to do.
I hated it, but it'd be easy. I'd trained my whole life as an emotionless killing-machine, and all I had to do was manage it for a few more weeks. I didn't like it, but it was simply what I had to do.
Finnick picked seaweed out of his perfect hair, a solemn look as he met my eyes. "You know Nik… you could just well…"
"I can't, we talked about this Finnick," I said, suddenly cold again. "It's my only real way out…"
The Games, or my parents. It was sad the Games scared me less, and that my hatred for them both was the same.
I could remember when Marcus and I were younger; it seemed like it had been decades. If I focused, I could hear us both running into the backyard, practice swords in hand, pretending to be the tributes we saw on TV, the tributes we'd try to emulate when we entered the Games. The best years were the years District Four won. The academy here wasn't as successful as One or Two, but we still produced plenty of victors. Yes, the years we produced a victor were the ones Marcus and I both would talk about for months after. We'd meet the victors that our parents more than likely trained and try to drain every ounce of advice we could.
All of it for when we eventually went to the Capitol ourselves. For the honor of ourselves, our parents, and our district. We were victors' children; we were supposed to be invincible.
Marcus proved us both wrong when he died.
It wasn't about honor, glory, district pride… it was about death, keeping the districts honest.
Finnick knew this as well. Nobody would ever replace Marcus, I had nightmares of him almost every night. Finnick wasn't my older brother… but he'd done his best to fill that roll after Marcus's Games, after he felt he'd failed to bring him home.
"Of course…" Finnick said, nodding at her to get his point across. Annie looked confused for a moment, but Finnick quickly moved on. "So, coming over for dinner tonight? Or do you plan to sit out here and eat raw seaweed all night?"
Anything would have been better than going home. I would've sat out in my skiff all day if I had the chance.
I shook my head. "Can't unfortunately. I'm lucky enough I got to come out here. What are you both doing anyway?"
"We looked for you at your house," Annie said. "But Josephine said you'd probably be out here. We wanted to make sure you were feeling okay before tomorrow!"
I smiled; Annie was too good for the world we lived in. "I'm alright… thanks for coming to check. The both of you. I do appreciate it."
Annie smiled happily, and Finnick squeezed her arm, meeting my eyes. He nodded and gave her a two-finger salute. "What kind of mentors would we be if we didn't make sure you were okay on the eve of the country's greatest pageant of honor!"
I scoff at him. "So does that mean you're visiting Drew after this?"
"Of course!" Finnick said dramatically. "After all, he needs all the help he can get against The Deadly Anderson!"
Annie managed a laugh at Finnick's ridiculous tone. He smiled down at her, and I can see the love in his eyes. I'd wondered my whole life what it was like to be looked at like that, even by my parents. I manage to smile eventually, and sigh as I go to sit down near the engine of the skiff, looking over at Finnick and Annie one more time.
"I need to get going. Mom and Dad, they…" The words are hard, at first, and harder when they both look at me. "They want me to watch Marcus's Games again…"
Both their smiles went away after that. Annie looked at Finnick and Finnick nervously bit his lip, meeting my eyes again.
"I'm sorry Nik…" He said.
I shake my head, sighing. "It's not your fault, it never was. It was my parents, the Capitol… but most of all me and Marcus ourselves."
XxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxX
"Right here!" Father says, playing the next part in slow motion, as the point of a sword comes for Marcus's thigh. He pauses it when my brother dodges back frantically, jabbing with his trident. Father scoffs. "He's wasting energy. He could have parried that attack and had the fight done with! Instead, he was afraid, leapt back and gave his opponent another opportunity!"
Sure enough the boy from District One quickly advanced, cutting across Marcus's leg. My brother's screams would never leave my brain. I heard it at night, during the day, while I was eating, sleeping, walking. It didn't go away no matter how many years passed.
"I know Dad…" I say, my elbows leaned against my knees, eyes on the screen. I couldn't show him any sign that I was in doubt.
The abridged version of Marcus's Games only lasted about an hour, specially edited by my father to only show parts with Marcus, but I knew the entire thing by heart anyway. I watched him take the head off a thirteen-year-old boy from District Five in the Bloodbath. I saw him hunt with the career pack, get hit on by some ditzy blonde from District One, and kill two other outer district tributes. One was a girl, sixteen, from District Nine. Another was a boy, a thirteen-year-old from District 8, who was the one to come back to bite him, because he did it in front of the boy's district partner, the girl who'd take his head a week later.
Father never saw it, but I did. I saw it in my brother's eyes, the weight of what he was doing slowly weighing on him as the Games went on. I told myself that he realized what he was doing, the horror of it; I'd like to think he figured it out.
There's also the very real possibility he didn't, and I was just fooling myself. However, I'd fooled myself for most of my younger years on things much bigger than this, so I didn't mind doing it here.
I watched as the Career pack whittled down. Marcus's District Four partner, an air-head named Amora, was the first of the pack to die, which was never a surprise to me. She was as dense as a boulder; she walked straight into a bear mutt's lair and was mauled. The ditzy girl from District One went next, underestimating the girl from District Eight who would go on to win after Marcus killed the girl's district partner. I watched as the girl from Eight cleverly used the Careers' arrogance against them. She even ended up setting fire to the Cornucopia supplies, effectively ending the Careers' chances after they got to the final seven.
It was at this point the District One boy had demanded a fight with Marcus, blaming my brother for being too distracted to help his dead district partner. The boy from District Two stood honorably away and watched the fight, as if the entire thing was normal. It was of course between Careers; if you wanted to duel another of the pack, the others were supposed to stand back and let it happen. That didn't always end up the case of course, but sometimes like in Marcus's Games it did.
I wondered what the others in my own pack would be like. Drew was honorable enough; I'd like to think he wouldn't stab me in the back. However, the ditzes from One and Two were wild cards as always. Somehow, the boy from Two, watching the duel between my brother and the boy from One, made me angrier than the boy from One who was trying to kill him. How could he just stand there, and genuinely think all of this was normal, that what was happening was alright?
"It's a good thrust here, he did do well to recover," Father said, fast-forwarding and slowing the video of our massive TV to the end of the duel. "It was a good win yes… but he wasted too much of his energy and was too wounded later on… foolish boy."
My skin crawled as I watched Marcus's trident spear through the boy from One's back. My fists curled in my lap, but I did my best to not let Father see. However, he was far too engrossed in the film.
After killing the boy from One, it left Marcus and the boy from Two as the last of the Careers. The boy was massive, and I could remember the frantic bets that were made… some said Marcus stood no chance. It was down to the final five at that point, with only the girl from Eight who would win, a skinny boy from Eleven, and another morphling addict girl from Six. Nobody thought those other three had a chance.
I watched as the boy from Two nods, shakes Marcus's hands, and leaves my wounded, bleeding brother behind, officially ending the Career alliance for that year. Fast forward, and mutts take out the morphling, the boy from Two stabs the boy from Eleven, before the girl from Eight cleverly tricks him, using poison from a mutt she'd killed. She stabbed the boy once, the wound not seeming bad, before bolting and leading him on a chase. It eventually killed the boy from Two, leaving just her and Marcus.
"You have to remember Nikki, do not underestimate those outlying tributes!" Father stressed, as he fast-forwarded to the finale. "They may be savages, they may not understand the honor they've been given, but what they do have is a killer instinct. They will do anything to survive; they won't fight with honor, they will do whatever it takes to survive. Don't be a fool and underestimate them like your brother did!"
"I won't…" I said, loud enough for him to hear, but already preparing myself for what's to come.
Father sneered as he pressed play, his head shaking in disgust. "And above all, do not show any sympathy… it will get you killed, and lose you your chance at victory, like your brother."
It was this moment I held onto when I thought that maybe Marcus did see the truth in the end. As he's chased by a giant bear towards the Cornucopia, meeting the girl from Eight who was being chased by a large flock of birds… the audio cuts out. A large clap of thunder covered what the two said, but he could see the girl was crying, shouting at my brother, probably calling him a killer, a murderer, a monster.
And after that, I saw him shout back 'I'm sorry, so sorry'. It may just be my wishful thinking, but I'm more than entitled to some wishful thinking.
Father stood in front of the TV, shaking his head. "Damn girl was skilled yes, but he should have been able to overpower her. He was baited into her trap… a shameful display."
The words cut deep as they always did, but when I used to feel the cuts, now instead of feeling like a sharp blade, it simply felt like I was being repeatedly beat over the head with a log. I could feel blood dripping along my palms, and my eyes widened when I saw it drip onto the purple velvet lined couch below me.
"Shit…" I said, trying to find an excuse not to look up at the screen, but of course, when I do, it's the moment that I have nightmares about.
The girl from Eight leads Marcus to the outskirts of the Cornucopia, near the starting platforms. She was only sixteen, the girl; scrawny, but still able to hold a longer sword. She trips over the one of the pedestals, and when Marcus comes in for the stab with his trident, she rolls to the side, picking up from the tall grass in the marshy terrain a knife she had dropped while running towards the Cornucopia, Marcus being too distracted running from a mutt to have seen.
She picked up the knife as she rolled, and came up to stab it into the back of Marcus's bad leg. He falls to one knee, and then, with a pained, anguished cry, weeks, months, probably years of hardship comes out of the girl in a scream as she picks up the sword and with one swift swing, my brother's head rolls to the ground.
I closed my eyes as it happens when I see Father wasn't watching, but the squelch and image was burned into my skull.
The girl falls to the ground and oddly, cries over my brother's body after it. For months after the games, I wanted to hate her, to hate the girl who'd killed my brother, even promising that I'd kill the tributes she would mentor in my own games… but after a year, the anger turned to sadness for Marcus, and then… to pity for the girl. She was just trying to survive; she probably had never thought about killing before then. After her Games, the girl went on to create new clothing lines, and it was said she ran a free clothing shop for the poor in District Eight.
She sounded like a genuinely good person… but she had also taken my brother. Could I really blame her though? What would I have expected her to do, simply lay down and let Marcus kill her?
Maybe I'd ask her after if I won.
"Such a waste… a waste of talent," Father said, turning the TV off and turning back to me. His intense green eyes bore into me, and I wished I could sink into the velvet cushions. "Learn from his mistakes Nikki… I have the utmost confidence in you. You will bring pride back to this family!"
He said it cheerfully, as if it would be no hard task at all, as if I could easily kill 23 other starving kids and that would bring me honor. My father had enough honor; I can see the pictures of past victors he and my mother had mentored on the mantle, one of Finnick, one of Annie. Father looked at them next and sighed.
"Yes… I've won myself, and trained winners," he said, a smile curling to his lips, as if he didn't just watch his son beheaded. "But my child winning? Making history? It will be this family's crowning moment Nicolette… and you'll bring it to us."
The blood was seeping down my palms now, my legs were buckling, but I stood up, hands behind my back, and managed to meet my father's eyes, which isn't something I normally did.
"Can I go help Mom with dinner?" I asked, trying to keep my voice level.
He nodded, but before I left, placed his massive hand on my shoulder and smiled. "Of course… I know you will make me proud Nicolette; I know it."
"I'll… I'll do my best," I said, trying to keep my voice level again.
My father grinned like a madman and nodded at me again. "Good! Go help your mother, get some food, and get some rest! Tomorrow your real life begins, my dear!"
It probably would. Either tomorrow would be the beginning of the end… or the beginning of a life I didn't particularly want.
I nodded, before thankfully he went upstairs towards his room, the white-washed, pristine steps creaking as he walked, or more-so skipped up them. I let out a shaky breath and turned towards the kitchen. My mother was the same way, but at least she'd sometimes talk to me about other things. It wasn't often, and at times I really felt like Finnick, Annie, and occasionally Kai were the only ones who I could speak to like a normal person.
Kai however, was a different story. I loved my cousin… but he was still young, still affected by the grooming of the academy. My hope was that if I won, maybe it'd dissuade him from continuing training, I would be damned before I let his life be wasted as mine and Marcus's was.
I made my way to the kitchen, sucking the blood from the cut my nails had left in my palms. The house in Victor's Village was as lavish as you would expect, only doubled since I had two victors to deal with instead of one. On the walls, I saw pictures of myself, Marcus, Kai and my Uncle River. I passed one of myself, Marcus and Kai when we were younger, Marcus fourteen, me ten, Kai eight. I stopped for a minute to look at it, just near the kitchen door. Had I really gotten that old? I was pudgier then, more freckles across my nose, my tan not as deep. Mother had stressed how important my looks could be to winning the Games; it was how she won hers after all.
She'd shown me the clip of her stabbing the boy from District One in the thigh as she went in for a kiss in her Games. It was a contrast to watching my father's Games, watching him bash in skulls and cut guts open, making seven kills, tied for the most in Hunger Games history.
Yes, I had an impeccable history of murder to live up too.
Three more weeks or so… then it's over, it's all over. It's what I had been telling myself all day. But what did I have to come back to other than a life of having my body sold for the Capital's pleasure?
"Nikki! Oh there you are, be a dear and come help me with this," My mother's voice, honey sweet came from the kitchen. I cursed under my breath; she'd probably scold me for sitting there looking at old pictures. She'd say I had no business worrying about the past.
I hid my hands behind my back as I made my way into the kitchen, limestone counters with plenty more pictures of myself, Marcus, Kai, my Uncle and of course famous victors my parents had mentored. District Four had come into a golden era with them as mentors, at least that's what they called it on Capitol TV.
My mother was standing over the counter, cutting up the seaweed I'd retrieved. I could smell fish, salmon by the smell, sizzling over the counter, making my stomach rumble. What kind of fish would I find in the arena? Probably some boring pike or bass, or at worse some capital engineered kind.
"Yeah, Mom?" I asked, keeping my hands behind my back still.
She looked up and smiled at me, her smile still as dazzling as when she stabbed the boy from District One. I'd heard people say I looked just like her, but I inherited my father's strength and skill with weapons. I would admit we looked alike, tan, tall, slim and toned, bright green eyes. She had a few aging lines in the corner of her eyes, and her hair was golden blonde while mine was brown, but I could easily see how she'd been nicknamed 'The Seductress' amongst Hunger Games aficionados.
Thankfully, she smiled and gestured towards the sink. "Wash your hands dear, and finish chopping this for me while I take the fish out."
I rushed over to the sink quicker than was probably necessary, and winced as the soup burned the cuts on my palms. Blood slowly sank through my fingertips, and soon I found myself shaking. Soon, a lot more blood would be doing that, maybe it would be my own, or maybe that of some random twelve-year-old who had never harmed a soul.
Before my legs could get weak and I started seeing things again, my mother called for me.
"Oh, I'm so proud of you dear!" She cooed, as if her daughter wasn't entering a fight to the death with twenty-four others in a few days. "I remember the days before my Games. You must be so excited!"
My hands shook under the running water, the familiar shaking feeling crawling through my chest. However, I'd been doing this for five years, I could do it for one more day. My hands curled again, and I locked my knees, doing the breathing exercise that Finnick had taught me.
In… one, two three… out… one two three… in… one two three…. After a minute, my heart is still racing, but I slid a knife out of the block and resisted the urge to slit it across my wrist. I'd tried that for a few years, it hadn't helped.
No breathing exercise, no pain, nothing ever helped, and odds are nothing ever would. It was times like this where I felt like an empty husk, dead yet alive at the same time. How could I be breathing, when I already felt dead? I asked myself that every night before bed, every night since my brother's life was thrown away.
I didn't want to die, but sometimes I thought it would be a lot better if I just wasn't around.
"Yeah… really excited," I said, managing to make it not sound so deadpan.
I got to the seaweed and again resisted the urge to stab myself- or my mother- when she put an arm around me and kissed my cheek. Affection was foreign to me, and one of the few things I enjoyed was my personal space. I tried my best to wriggle away, but my mother did more in her Games then just bat her eyelashes.
"You are going to make us so proud! Hundreds of kids we've trained in that academy," she went on, moving the pieces of fish from the pan to the plates she'd set out. "and noneof them have had your skill, darling! Not Finnick, Annie, Finbarr, not even your brother! And I'm not just saying that because you're my daughter!"
I slammed the knife over the seaweed. It hit the cutting board with a satisfying thwack and I even had a hard time getting it out after it was embedded in the wood.
"Yes, not since Finnick I dare say have we had such a sure chance at a victor!" she said, delicately setting plates with pieces of salmon, pasta and vegetables. "Even at fourteen he was so impressive, but you outclass him dear! I do wish you had ended up with him, you would have made such a lovely couple after you win!"
"He's in love with Annie," I said, starting to finally get a rhythm and quickly cut the seaweed.
My mother scoffed. "Oh Annie is a sweet girl, a good victor and all but… she's a bit plain, no family to speak of. You'd have made a better match!"
"I don't do affection," I said. "You know that."
She scoffed again, coming back over to me, picking the seaweed into a serving dish.
"Oh come now Nikki, you simply haven't met the right boy!" she said, as if I were twelve years old again. "After you win, you'll have your pick of the lot! Yes, I daresay after you're a victor you can-."
"And what if I lose!?" I snapped, and right away regretting it.
I turned to see my mother looking at me as if I'd just spoken a foreign language.
She laughed. "Ha… Nicolette what are you talking about?"
I tried to resist, but I couldn't. I stabbed the knife into the cutting board, inches deep and glared back at her.
"You heard me," I hissed. "What if I end up dead!? What if one of the ditzes from One or Two stab me in the back? What if some kid who's never held a weapon before sees me trying to kill them in the bloodbath and swings and cuts my throat? What if I die of the cold, dehydration, poison! What if my shit turns a different color and I die a horrific shitty death from a sickness I pick up!?"
"We've trained you for every scenario!" she said, reaching out to touch my shoulders, her voice still sweet as candy. "Nothing can surprise you, not like your brother. There's not a chance you can-."
"Of course there's a chance!" I said, twitching and stepping back before her hands can touch my shoulders, knowing if she did I'd probably break one. "There's always a chance! You didn't think Marcus could die; you didn't think some starving girl from Eight would take his fucking head off!"
"Is that what's bringing this on dear?" she said, tilting her head and sighing. "What happened to your brother was unfortunate. But he died for the honor of this district. I don't agree with your father, you know that. He may have lost, but he fought valiantly, brought this family and himself great honor in-."
"A lot of good that honor does him now!" I screamed, turning away from her and leaning over the sink again, my hands shaking.
In… one, two, three… out… one, two, three… in... one, two, three… out, one, two, three.
"Nikki, darling," her voice said after a few silent moments. "You don't have to worry. We already have sponsors from town lined up! It's alright to be nervous, but trust me, once you come up from the tube, everything will be fine! Your training will take over, and you'll be back home before you know it."
I'd be back home maybe… but I'd be even more broken then I already am.
I felt my heart begin to pound faster. My nails dug into the counter, and when I looked down into the sink, I didn't see water or dishes; I saw blood. Blood and in it the image I just watched of my brother's head falling from his body. The head of the boy he killed, their limp bodies, the kids he'd murdered.
"Nikki…" my mother said, and I heard her bare feet pattering against the tile, coming closer.
Just before I could turn, probably snapping at last after four years, which may have gotten me a fate worse than the Games, a knock came at the door. A quick, rapid knocking followed by a voice.
"Uncle Joe! Aunt Josie, Nikki! Can I come in; I forgot my boots here!"
Kai.
"I'll get it," I said, staring at my mother and daring her to argue with me.
She relented thankfully, nodding and giving me a smile. She knew Kai was the only one, along with Finnick and Annie, who could get more than a few words out of me. She probably thought Kai could 'calm me down' and resigned to picking out another plate from the cabinet.
"Let him know he can stay for dinner!" she said, but I was already into the hallway.
It wasn't far to the door, and after tying my hair back up I got there to answer. I swung it open to reveal the smiling face of my cousin. It was still amazing to me how Kai was only two years younger then me, but still looked so young. It also scared me how similar he looked to me. My worst fear was my parents pawning their need for another victor in their family on Kai if I ended up dead.
Yes, Kai may have been the one reason I wasn't going to slit my own throat that night.
He flashed his enthusiastic smile at me. "How's it going cuz! Enjoy your day off?"
I scoffed. "You could say that."
"Go out swimming naked again?"
"How'd you know?" I asked.
He nervously rubbed the back of his head. "Anthony says he watched you on the beach for a while before you got onto the skiff. I know you go out there when you wanna be alone."
I rolled my eyes with my skin crawling. "You tell him that if I ever catch him, I'll break his arm, understand?"
"Yes ma'am," he said, mock saluting, making him laugh and me roll my eyes.
He finished laughing and looked past me. "Is that Aunt Josie's cooking I smell?"
"It is," I said, the smell of the salmon hitting my nose now. As agitated as I was, it did smell good. I moved for him to come in. "Come on, what was this about boots?"
Kai smiled and stepped in, closing the door behind him and pushing off his shoes. He's wearing a white-beater and grinning like a madman as he peers into the kitchen, before looking back to me, his normally shoulder length hair tied in a knot at the top of his head.
"Yeah, I left them in your room I think; yours or Marcus's old one," he said, walking with me towards the steps. "I need them for tomorrow; they're my boating ones."
I felt cold despite the fire my father had going. I hated going into Marcus's room, but I know Kai normally stayed in it when he came over. I guess he either just got done training or done working out on the boat by the look of him. He followed me up the stairs, just as he'd been doing since he was a kid. He was skilled, yes, even more skilled since I eventually broke down and taught him more about throwing a trident, along with my parents taking him for a few lessons when they weren't busy grooming me.
But Kai was too good. He even had a hard time hooking crabs, and other shellfish when we were fishing. I'd seen and heard of him helping elderly fishers, sticking up to a bully in the academy or at school. He liked to try and act tough, but I knew better.
He was too good; too good for the world we lived in.
"Ah! There we go!" he said, bursting into Marcus's room, and I gingerly followed behind him.
Marcus's room still had some of his old clothes and the like. Kai mostly used them now, but it still hurt to be in there. Kai was busy digging the closet for his boots when I found myself by my brother's old nightstand. A picture was there, a small frame. A picture of me, him, Mother, Father, Kai, Uncle River, my Aunt Amy when she was alive. It was different from other pictures; this one was from when we were only about ten and six, and I could remember the time vividly.
Neither of us had started in the academy; Mother and Father still hadn't become obsessed with having us as victors.
That Nikki was long dead, and it was replaced with the shallow husk I was now a few years later. I remembered those times now and then, and despite everything, I could only blame myself for it.
Yes, no matter what, Marcus and myself were the only ones to blame for what happened to him, and what was going to happen to me. It didn't matter what my parents did, if Marcus and I had opened our eyes sooner, we could've stopped it.
"Ha, can't believe I'd forget these," Kai said from the other side of the room, cheerful as ever. "Okay, now let's get to eating some of that salmon. I'm…. Nikki?"
I can barely hear him, my hands are trembling with the picture in my hands, and I feel my throat start to close up. The shaking traveled down my chest, to my legs. Clutching the frame, I sat down on Marcus's old bed, elbows on my knees, looking at the sight of us both, and realizing that maybe, just maybe if we had said something, our parents wouldn't have turned out the way they did.
"We should have known…" I choked, my eyes prickling. "We… we should have fucking known."
"Nikki?" Kai said, concern in his voice. "Are… you okay?"
My hands shook, and the first few tears fell on the picture. I'd done this before of course, just never with anyone around; not Finnick, not Kai, certainly not my parents. Crying was for the weak, compassion was for the weak, compassion was as deadly as a knife in the Hunger Games.
Each second I looked at that picture was like a small piece of the hollow shell that remained of me was being chiseled away. Each second hurt, each second was agony, but I couldn't stop looking.
I glanced over to Marcus's nightstand where the golden rope chain was sitting. I found myself choking back a sob as I reached for it. It sifted through my fingers. It had been imported from One, a present for his sixteenth birthday, when he was already far ahead of the others at the academy. Father had been so proud he splurged, and Marcus joked how maybe he could use it to strangle one of the District One Careers in the ultimate ironic death for them.
I remember laughing at that joke, and just like the picture, the memory was agony.
I was such a little, fucking bitch… a psychotic little brat. A contrast to the little girl that was in the photo.
With the picture in one hand and the chain in the other, the tears only came more. My breathing sped up, my heart feeling like it was going to implode, fall into my stomach, crush my lungs and kill me. Maybe it would be best. If I died that night, I could prevent the deaths of all the other tributes I would have killed in the arena.
But they'll just die anyway… and worse could happen to you. A few years ago, one of the boys who was supposed to volunteer had gotten cold feet the day before the reaping. He hadn't volunteered, embarrassing the entire district that year.
The next week, his house had burned down, he, his mother and brother found dead.
That wouldn't happen to my family, but there was no telling what would happen to me. The Deadly Anderson, The Prodigy, the seventeen-year-old volunteer, the youngest since Finnick Odair. It would bring a scandal of epic proportions.
That's all I am… a tool… that's all I ever will be. A pawn in games much bigger than me.
That's what my brother had been, what Kai could be, what all the children I'd see the next day would be.
And I couldn't do anything about it.
My breathing became ragged, I dropped the frame, glass shattering on the floor. I gripped the chain in both hands, my knees trembling as my head ended up in my hands, tears falling down my wrists, but when I blinked it was red, slowly oozing as blood to the floor. The drops of it fell onto the picture, onto Marcus's young face, onto my face, my parents, and just like that, my old self was gone.
All I was now was this husk, one who'd commit murder within the next few weeks.
How can I be breathing then… how can I be breathing if I already feel dead. That question had burned into my skull.
In… one, two, three… out… one, two, three… in… one, two… two… two…
The breathing only got faster. My throat began to swell like it was closing in on itself, and soon I was wheezing, coughing as I sobbed, and that was when Kai finally seemed to get over his shock.
"Hey… hey it's alright cuz," he said, bravely taking a seat next to me.
He didn't say anything, which he knew would probably be useless. I never talked to Kai about any of this, about the Games, about Marcus, but… somehow I knew he understood. If anyone else had tried to put their arm around me, they would have had it broken in two places.
But Kai's felt warm then. Not a lot of warmth, but it was better than I'd felt all day, even when I was baking out and laying in the sun. Night had come, the moon high up in the sky beaming through Marcus's old window. After a moment, the blood I saw turned back to regular tears, and my head ended up buried into Kai's sweaty shoulder. He hugged me, and he may have not been much bigger than I was, but I felt like a small child for a moment.
"Nik…" he said after a moment of me sobbing. "You… you will be alright, won't you?"
I shakily sobbed one more time and looked back up. He was looking at me, his big green eyes full of concern, and after a second of getting my breathing under control, I only cried silent tears instead sobbing aloud, which was an improvement.
Him, my cousin… he's the reason I need to win. I can't let them do to him, what they did to me… I won't let them. If I won, then perhaps they wouldn't. But what if I die? What if I leave him by himself?
Kai was always smiling, confident, but he didn't look it then. No, my little cousin was scared, and he was looking to his big cousin, his idol, for comfort. I had no idea what to say for a minute to respond, but in the end I knew I couldn't lie to him.
"I don't know Kai. I… I don't know," I said, looking down at the picture on the ground, covered in my tears, in shattered glass, shattered much like the girl I was then.
Kai gripped the sheets, shakily sighing and looking at me. "But.. but you have to be better trained then the rest of them right! You… you can't lose. I… I mean if you did I… I don't-."
"Promise me something Kai," I managed to say, his tone making the tears come down quicker.
He looked at her, his own eyes threatening. "Yeah?"
I looked down and reached my hand over, grabbing his wrist and squeezing it. A sob left me as I met his eyes, and I shook my head.
"No matter what happens to me…. Don't let them change you… no… no matter what," I croaked out, my breathing getting quicker again, pain shooting through my chest, and next thing I know, I grabbed my cousin around the neck to hug him. "Don't… don't make the same mistake I did. Don't let them change you… don't let them…. Don't… don't…"
He was taken aback for a minute, I could tell. He knew I didn't normally do things like this, hugging someone, even him. However, he hugs me back, and for a split second, I felt a bit warmer again.
"I won't… I… I promise Nik," he said.
And I believed him, the words oddly comforting. After a minute, I got the sobbing and breathing under control, and Kai pulled back, his smile returning.
He stood up, and smiled down at me still on Marcus's old bed. "I'll tell Aunt Josie you're doing something… come down when you can."
"Thanks," I said, watching him take a few steps away, and as he does a small smile forms on my face, a realization coming to me. "Kai."
He spun on his heel back to look back at me. "Yeah cuz?"
"You left your boots here on purpose didn't you?" I said.
He smirked and picked them up from the floor. "I have no idea what you're talking about! I'm just a silly fish with a forgetful brain!"
"Yeah… that you are." I said, before he laughed and left the room.
As he did, I turned back to the shattered frame below me. I nicked my thumb on a piece of the glass picking the picture up. Despite the sting I found myself looking at it. Blood trickled down it from the cut, down my younger self's face.
I looked to it, and then back down at the shattered glass.
"Just like any hope I had…" I said, dropping the picture back to the ground. "Completely shattered…."
But… maybe if I win, things could end up different.
I knew it was a foolish hope. Foolish, because I knew what I had to do to get home would come easy to me, and the fact it would come easy was what scared me the most.
XxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxX
I picked at the dress fluttering in the wind below me, my fancy shoes caked in mud. My mother would be furious about the state of them, but there wouldn't be anything she could do about it soon; I wasn't not going to come here that morning. I very rarely wasted my energy arguing with my parents; this had been one of the few exceptions.
"I'll be back soon big brother," I said, pushing myself up, dropping the yellow daisy onto the ground in front of the tombstone. A chill ran up my spine despite the heat. "One way or another…"
I wondered for a minute which way I'd prefer, above or below ground.
"Nikki!" a voice said behind me, and it made me jerk around. Not many people would approach me, but when I saw who it is, I didn't necessarily relax, but it made sense why they would.
"Drew," I said, my arms crossed. The sea-green dress was sleeveless, so the few bits of windchill sent goosebumps up my arms. It was tighter than I cared for up top, but down below it frilled out near my knees. I'd been primed, cleaned and decorated like a marlin, my hair was combed, a perfume of lavender sprayed around my bare neck with Marcus's chain.
I'd had a few people staring, some whispering as I walked through town. The daughter of Joseph and Josephine, the best chance for a victor District Four has had in years, she'd go show those dolts from One and Two our academy was just as great! A few boys had ogled, which stopped after I'd glared at them; they knew better.
Drew on the other hand, had never been one to ogle and be scared by my reputation. We never talked much; I didn't consider him a friend, but we'd grown up together in the academy, and seeing each other in Victor's Village, with his family inheriting a house from one of his great-grandparents. I respected him to a degree, as much as I could respect someone with his attitude, which wasn't much. Still, I'd known him since we were children, and of all the people at the academy, I found his company the least annoying.
Which is why I sincerely hoped someone else would kill him.
"I was looking for you," he said, joining me in front of Marcus's grave. "I found Kai, he said I'd find you here."
"Well you found me," I said, trying not to sound too bitter. "What did you want? You could've just waited for the train."
Drew shook his head, his golden messy locks blowing in the wind. I supposed he was handsome, I knew he had a girlfriend in town, been together a while with her. What does she think about him entering a deathmatch with me?
The rumors weren't started by me for sure, but I'd heard them in whispers through town again. Nicolette Anderson was the true contender for District Four this year, that Andrew Andino was just there for show.
Maybe he's here to stab me before the reaping…. No, that's not Drew's style. Still, I should watch my back.
I knew Drew had heard the rumors, that they bothered him. Who wouldn't they bother? Still, if he had any animosity he didn't show it then.
He shrugged, crossing the sleeves of the nice suit he was wearing. "I know, but well, I wanted to talk to you before the cameras and Capitolites got to us."
I couldn't blame him there; in a few hours our every move would begin to be tracked.
To my utter shock, next he held out a hand. "I just wanted to wish you luck. It's a real honor to compete with you, I hope I prove to be a worthy district partner."
"You wouldn't have been picked if you weren't," I said, looking down at his hand, my skin prickling.
He sighed and shook his head. "That's not what some people are saying… I hope I can prove myself. Obviously, I hope to win, and I'll do all I can. But if I don't I hope it's you. One of us will bring honor back to the district, I know it."
If you die a horribly painful death, you hope I don't. What would happen if we were the final two? If I stood between him and death? Would he kill me, his neighbor since we were kids? How much honor would he feel after that?
I sucked in a breath and looked him in the eye. He was trying to be polite, and I knew he couldn't know any better. He hadn't been through what I've been through.
I reached out and shook his hands. "Thanks Drew. I… I hope it doesn't come down to us."
"Neither do I," he said, a dashing smile on his face. "But if it does, I promise to give you a good fight. Who knows, I may even come out on top and surprise everyone!"
I wondered, if Drew had seen his older brother decapitated, watched his older brother murder children, if he'd still think the same, or if he'd be like I was. I wondered what all the children in the academy would be like, if they took a moment to really sit and think about what they were training for, if our parents hadn't groomed us.
Groomed us for a career of death.
"Maybe you will," I said with a shrug, and it seems to be enough for him. He gave me another nod, before going to walk off to the town square.
I sighed as he went, turning back to Marcus in the ground. We'd all end up there eventually. I wondered aimlessly about what it would be like for a moment and enjoyed a few quiet moments with my brother.
But then, the horn and bell in the town square went off, and my time for hiding was over.
"See you soon big brother," I said, picking at the top half of my dress. "At least in the arena, I'll have clothes I'm used to."
XxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxX
My finger was pricked, and I barely flinched. The square was packed, golden and white banners adorning the Justice Building, the butcher shop, the bakery, Drew's family store, everyone from children to the elderly all packed to see me climb up onto the stage. I looked past the crowd and could see my parents already on stage in the victor's section. My father chatted with Finnick and laughed at something he said. I could imagine him grilling Finnick on the proper people to get as my sponsors, and the different possibilities for the arena. My mother was talking to Rain Caldwell, the last victor our district had seen. She was gorgeous, her flowing gold hair and tight green dress drawing many eyes. She'd won about seven years ago now. Yes, my parents had brought about a golden age for the District Four academy overall, but in recent years, the Ones and Twos had been overshadowing us.
Of course last year the girl from District Seven, Johanna Mason, had made all three Career districts look like fools. I'd heard a lot about not underestimating any opponent no matter the training score the last year because of that.
"Nikki!" a voice called, and I groaned at the sound. I would've done it with anyone, but as the shadow lumbers over me I whirled around and grabbed the beefy wrist in a vice that had been reaching for me.
Dareon's eyes bulged and he seemed oddly satisfied to have my hand around his wrist. Groaning, I let it go and take a step back.
"I'm not dealing with you today," I said, trying to give him one of my signature glares, which normally worked to get people to leave me alone.
But Dareon seemed even oddly aroused by it, which made me again wish he had been chosen as my district partner. I wouldn't have minded seeing someone stab him, or even doing it myself.
He was tall, a rugged face and dark brown hair, I didn't know when his obsession with me started, but it didn't end when I broke his wrist- which was still in a cast- the month before.
"Nikki," he said, completely ignoring my warning. "I needed to see you before you volunteered! I won't be able to see you for some time but… the thought of you, in the bloodbath? It's enough to make me-."
"You say one more word," I said, glaring down at his good hand. "And I will break your other arm in three places."
"But the thought of you, covered in blood, during your interview, on the victor's podium I-."
He tried to go off again, but I left, heading for the eighteen-year-old section. I didn't have protection as a tribute yet; I didn't know what would happen if I broke his wrist or worse.
I heard the chattering get louder, the excitement bubbling as I made my way to the section. I stayed at the end, near the walkway made for the tributes to walk to the stage. A few of the other girls either gave me jealous glares, or frightful ones. It was nothing different then what I'd been dealing with the last four years since Marcus died. I craned my head to the stage again, and I could see Finnick with his arm around Annie again. He looked out and met my eye, a grim smile on his face.
I nodded back, and this is just as the Panem anthem began to play.
So, for the next half-hour I sat through the same video I could repeat word for word at this point. I felt a twinge of annoyance as the Treaty of Treason was read in President Snow's booming, deep voice throughout the square.
What did Marcus have to do with a rebellion over seventy years ago? What did I have to do with it? Why were we getting punished, for something we weren't even alive to be a part of?
The answer was obvious, it was to control us, but what could I do? I was a killer, not a rebel or leader, it wouldn't do me any good to start thinking about things like that.
I never paid much attention to our district escort, a pompous looking man with pale, almost purple skin, hair in green waves down to his shoulders, was he trying to imitate seaweed? Either way, he wore a horrible suit, which was far too tight for his pudgy body that had frills down the bottom of the coat. It was salmon pink, and hurt my eyes to even look at.
I didn't agree with my parents on most things, but the fact the man looked a fool, was one thing all three of us agreed on.
"Welcome, welcome, welcome District Four!" he said into the microphone, smiling like a madman at the crowd before him. "To the reapings of the 72nd annual HUNGER GAMES!"
A wave of claps and cheers washed over the crowd, making me even more nauseous then I already was, my hands beginning to shake at my side.
In… one, two, three… out, one, two three… in… one, two, three… out… one, one… one…
The next words the escort said were lost on me. All I could focus on was my breathing, and my hands digging into the folds of my dress. Despite it all, they didn't stop shaking. My chest started to heave; suddenly each girl around me was that girl from District Eight, her scared, bloody face sending Marcus's head rolling. All of them had her face, and no matter how much I blinked it wouldn't go away, the ground beneath my feet slick red, and I even stumbled into the girl behind me.
In… one, two, three… out, one, two, three, three, three…. It became hard to get the breath to go back in, for it to flow down my throat and through my body to make it function. My knees started to buckle, and I stumbled into the girl in front of me now. It was as she was turning back to me that I could finally hear the escort's voice again.
"As always, we're going to pick our lovely young lady first!" he said, his boot thumping against the wooden stage, pounding against my ears with each step.
It got worse. I felt my throat starting to close as his hand twirled in the bowl of slips of paper before pulling out one single name.
In, one, two, three, four, five…. Out, one, two, three, four, five. In… in… IN!
"Now, our lucky young lady is…. Melanie Godwin!" the escort said, and I saw a young girl begin to shuffle out of the section for fifteen-year-old girls. She had long black hair, and walked to the stage casually, looking back towards the crowd, and I didn't know if she glared at me in particular, but it certainly felt like it.
It was when she actually got to the stage that I started to feel the eyes on me. Every girl in my section, every boy in the section across from me turned to look at me. The girl wasn't even supposed to make it to the stage, a second after her name was called, I was supposed to valiantly stand and yell that I volunteered.
But I could barely get air into my throat, let alone form words.
In… one… one… one… one… DAMMIT!
The Escort was clearly confused, because when Melanie got to his side on the stage, the poor girl's legs shaking, her eyes now surely staring at me, he nervously tapped the microphone. I recognized the girl Melanie now. She didn't even attend the academy; her parents were fishers in the outer parts of the district. She'd be slaughtered in the arena, and the longer I stood there, trembling and afraid, the more she looked the same.
"Ah… well… um… good, good Melanie!" the Escort said into the microphone, trying to laugh away the tension. I felt his eyes join the others as he speaks again. "Now would…anyone like to… volunteer for this young lady?"
My eyes blinked rapidly, looking at the girls around me, praying one of them had been jealous and not scared enough of me in the academy to shout out, to steal my place. However, after a few seconds, I saw that clearly wasn't the case.
In… one… two… three…out… one…two… two….
I couldn't get it back in, my legs were still shaking, my arms held onto the sides of my dress. I didn't think I would've said anything, had I not happened to catch Kai's eye across the aisle. He was as pale as I was sure I looked. He was nervously fidgeting with his fingers, his eyes trained on me, waiting to see what I'd do, if his other cousin would be leaving.
If I leave… he gets it next.
I spared a glance for Melanie up on the stage, who was shaking to the point where she looked like she may fall forward off it.
Thankfully for her, I stumbled into the aisle first.
"I… I," I started, the words ragged and light, but looking at Kai again, I managed to raise my voice. "I volunteer as tribute."
My words held no enthusiasm, and as I started walking, instead of a weight being lifted off my shoulders, it felt like I was carrying a boulder as I strode toward the stage. As I did, I glanced at Kai the whole time, and then when I passed him, they went to the stage.
I could see my father, fuming silently in the row of victors, while my mother was clapping like a madwoman. After a few seconds, she realized she's the only one doing it, as the eyes are still on me. Feeling my legs start to stumble again, my eyes frantically searched for, and eventually found Finnick, sitting with his elbows on his knees next to Annie near my parents. He gently sucked in a breath through his nose, and let it out through his mouth, nodding at me.
In… one, two, three… out…. In… one, two… three… out.
Melanie sprinted down the steps off the stage, not even sparing me a glance, as my expensive, mud filled shoes got me up to the stage, where the Escort rather rudely grabbed my arm and pulled me towards the microphone. I resisted every urge to grab his fat arm and throw him forward, but he let go and rushed to the microphone again.
"Ah what a lovely turn of events!" he said, taking the mic off the stand and rushing over to me. He put an arm around me, having to reach up to do so, and held it to my mouth. "And now, what is your name, lovely thing!"
My glare is enough to make him wisely pull his arm away, but he put his fake smile back on, as I looked out before the district again.
I looked directly into one of the cameras, realizing how pathetic I'd probably look to the other Careers from One and Two, who'd no doubt watch the reapings on the way to the Capitol. It was what they told us to do at the academy, so I had no doubt they'd do it too.
"Nicolette Anderson…" I droned into the microphone, covering my bare arms with my hands, the cold chill coming back.
I made sure to keep that glare on the cameras. If the boy and girl from One and Two wanted to think I was weak because I didn't rush to the stage, grab the microphone and declare myself the future victor of the 72nd Hunger Games, so be it.
It'd be their mistake.
XxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxX
In… one, two three… out…one, two, three… In… one, two, three….
One hand was fiddling with Marcus's chain, and the other with the pillow on the lush purple, velvet couch. Drew had volunteered much more enthusiastically than I had, shouting out before the Escort could even finish reading the boy's name. He declared himself the future victor of the Hunger Games, but due to my display, he probably didn't get the reaction he was hoping for. I could barely meet his eye as he shook my hand before we were both escorted away.
I looked out the window, seeing the Peacekeepers moving the banners, and getting people out of the square. I wondered for a minute if any of the tributes in the outlying districts have tried to escape, maybe throw themselves through a window to avoid their fate.
I tried to push away thoughts of those tributes. I had no doubt if one of the others from One or Two tried to come for me I could kill them, especially after the bloodbath. But what about those starving kids who simply didn't want to die?
This is what you were bred for… and if I don't… then Kai does.
Maybe he'd come with me on my boat when I sailed away.
The door clicked open, and right away I heard my father already complaining.
"Well a great show you made of that Nikki!" he complained, my mother shooting past him to come hug me.
I weakly wrapped my arms back around her as she pulled back, coo-ing and cupping my face before looking back at my father.
"Oh go easy on her Joseph! This was a big moment," she said, turning back to me, readjusting my hair and sighing, her dazzling smile and white teeth showing. "A bit nervous were we?"
"You could say that," I muttered back.
She scoffed and didn't stop smiling. "Oh no need to worry dear, after the tribute parade everybody will forget about this!"
"I hope so," Father said, sighing and coming next to me as well. He gave me a look I'd gotten used to seeing during the last few years of training. "I've already spoken to Finnick, we can spin this so it doesn't hurt you. You just need to be sure to cement your place in the pack early! Show them your skill, that you're not to be trifled with!"
"I know Dad," I said, my hands gripping the sides of my dress again.
He sighed and put a hand on shoulder. "You can overcome this, no worries dear. Nobody will remember your reaping after you become a victor!"
"I'm sure they won't…" I said, the both of them smiling now.
My mother cooed again, smiling and holding my face. "Oh my dear, this is going to be so grand! You'll move across from us in a few weeks! We'll start getting your stuff ready!"
"She's right!" My father said, smiling before his eyes narrow in on my neck. "What are you wearing that for girl? You token has to be something memorable! It's bad luck to bring a dead tribute's token in with you; come, I think I have-."
"No!" I hissed, his hand reaching to the back of my neck. I shot my hand forward and grabbed his wrist before he could get to it.
I squeezed harder then I wanted, scowling, my breathing running ragged, as he glared down at me. I'd been in this situation before, and it had never ended well for me. But I'm a tribute now… even he can't do anything.
It looked like he was about to say something, when for once I'm glad my mother interrupted.
"Oh, don't be so superstitious Joseph!" she said, carefully pulling my hand away from my father's wrist and smiling at us both. "It's her decision what she wants to bring! She's going to make us very proud either way!"
After another tense moment of staring, I heard the door click again. A Peacekeeper put his face in the door, and my father turned to nod at him.
He turned back and looked at me. "Remember your lessons Nicolette… don't let compassion cloud your mind."
And those are the last words my father said to me before he left. My mother lingered for a minute, frowning, before smiling at me.
"Oh he's just nervous dear," she said, hugging me one more time. "I'll see you soon alright! Ah, sitting and remembering the games with my daughter! I've never wanted anything more!"
As if Marcus never existed….
My father at least acknowledged Marcus had existed at one point. Yes, he called him a failure, sloppy, a waste of talent, and worse things… but at least he remembered he was at one point alive.
Unlike my mother, who seemed to pretend she'd only ever had one child.
She left, and I heard the door shut. As soon as it did my legs shake, and I fell back onto my ass on the couch.
In… one, two, three… out, one, two, three… in… out, in, out, in, out, in, out.
Before it could get out of control, I heard the door open again.
"Well… that was some show cuz," Kai said, the door closing behind him.
I looked up, and seeing him, I managed to stand. He crossed the room and hugged me, and for the first time in a long time I eagerly responded to a hug. We probably wasted half of our time simply hugging there in the middle of the room, but I didn't mind. I knew I didn't need to say much to him, but when I pulled back, looking down at him I had to say something, anything that didn't involve what was happening.
"So… have you spoken to Brooke lately?" I asked, feeling my eyes sting again looking down at him. He was only fifteen, two years younger, but how was it he looked so much younger?
He shakily sighed, rubbing at his nose and nodding. "I have… for the first time in a while. I… I had been busy training the last few months. Dad said-."
"Don't," I cut him off, holding both his shoulders, looking him in the eye. "Remember what I asked you?"
He looked scared but nodded.
"You are good Kai," I said, sighing as I squeezed his shoulders, managing to smile at him. "Better then I am… better by a mile."
"That's not true Nik," he said, holding onto my arm a tiny tear coming down his cheek. "You're good… and… and Marcus was good too. You… you're my hero."
I actually laughed. "A hero? Me? Heroes don't train for half their lives to kill. Most people wouldn't call that a hero."
"I don't care if you're a hero for most people," he said. "You're a hero for me."
That made the tears fall. I yanked him back closer to hug him again. "I love you cousin…. Don't let them change you."
"I won't… I promise Nik I won't," he said, hugging me back, and I'm reminded of why I have to win.
We stayed like that for another minute before the door opened again. Kai squeezed harder around me for a second, but when the Peacekeeper stepped into the room he let go. We didn't say anything, I've learned in life sometimes words just weren't necessary.
As soon as I saw him turn and heard the door click, I turned back to the window again.
In… one, two, three, four, out, in, one, two, three, out. In, out, in, out, in, out, in-.
The door clicked again, and I scrambled around. Nobody else should be visiting me. The only other friends I had were Finnick and Annie, and I'd see them soon on the train.
"Nikki!"
"You're fucking kidding…" I said, my eyes snapping up, as Dareon lumbered into the room, shutting the door. Right away I looked down at the small nightstand next to the couch.
He looked like he was about to say something, but I cut him off before he could begin.
"You have exactly three seconds to leave," I said, gesturing to the nightstand next to the couch. "Or else I'm going to break your wrist and slam your head into that table."
"Your parents tried to stop me, but I needed to see you again!" he said, standing only three steps in front of me, plenty of room for me to grab.
"One," I said.
He shook his head, undeterred. "I don't know if I can survive in training again, seeing you every day, it's what gets me through all my lessons."
"You'll survive," I said, crossing my arms. "Two."
Somehow still undaunted, he shook his head and took a step forward, reaching out his hand and to my utter disgust, leaned his face towards me.
"I just need… something to remember you by!"
"Three…" I said, and that was when the training kicked in.
I snatched up the hand he had trying to snake around my back; he let out a yelp as I spun him around and yanked his wrist up behind his back at an awkward angle. It was his good wrist I realized, and I shook my head.
"Warned you." I said, as he tried to scramble away, his other hand trying to reach around towards my ass.
I kicked my leg towards him, sweeping his legs out from under him while still holding his arm up. I yanked it up and heard a satisfying crack, before grabbing the back of his head and slamming his face down towards the nightstand like I said I would. Blood shot up from his nose, and after a kick to the back, he was sprawled out on the floor.
"There's something to remember me by…" I said, as the Peacekeeper burst into the room.
He looked at me, then to Dareon, who's whimpering and holding onto his broken arm. Eventually he's drug out of the room by his freshly broken arm, and when the door slammed shut I looked down at my trembling hands.
My hands were sticky, blood under my fingernails. Normally after I blinked and got control of my breathing, it went away.
Only this time it doesn't, and I know it won't for a long time.
In… one, two, three… out… one, two, three… in… one, two, three… out… one, two, three…
A/N: Welcome everybody to chapter 1, of the A Career of Death: The 72nd Hunger Games! A new story for the profile, one I'm going to be writing in my spare time in between my own original story and of course the dregs of real life.
Some of you reading may recognize Nicolette Anderson, as she was a tribute in Born to Die: The 77th Hunger Games, by my friend the consulting marauder who was also kind enough to beta read for this chapter, so thank you so much for that! :)
She became one of the fan favorites by the end of her journey, and after re-reading the stories, and now being back on this profile from time to time, I remembered why I loved her so much after creating her.
I love creating complex characters, ones who feel real, and ones who you can root for. Nikki suffers as we see from PTSD and Anxiety, from watching her brother's death over and over again, and from the life she's been forced to live. The consulting marauder wrote her absolutely amazingly in her SYOT, but I wanted to write her on my own, since I had a bunch of really cool ideas for her going forward!
So we're going to have this story A Career of Death: The 72nd Hunger Games, and then after this, I'm going to write Jeremy Caulfield: The 73rd Hunger Games, a story about another of my tributes who you can also find in the consulting marauder's current SYOT story!
After those two stories, I PLAN on writing through the actual Hunger Games series, with these two near the center! Of course I say I PLAN too, because I do have my own original series I've been working the last year or so on, which I'm still going strong for, and of course my own full time job as a teacher-in training. So, this will be written in my spare time, when I wanna clear my head and write something different.
Also, please, please don't spam me with reviews on here, and messages about continuing my other series, I hope to one day do that, but I'm not sure when currently. If you're going to review this story, please, please leave it as a review for this story xD
That should be it! Let me know what you think of chapter 1, and stay safe folks!