Chantal Ivingin- District One
I didn't volunteer for the Games. I trained, but I didn't volunteer. I wasn't the one chosen. Far from it. I never had a chance at that. I was the rich guy's daughter, the one whose daddy bought her a place in the Academy and whose donations built a new sparring wing. It was inconceivable that I might have skills of my own, might actually have wanted this before he sent that money, might actually have been the best choice. Everyone saw the Ivingin part, but no one saw the Chantal.
Kind of funny how the spoiled brat didn't die in the Bloodbath, even though she fought in it and wasn't in the Career pack. I didn't need anyone's help to kill Sojourner and Aimee. I would have killed more, but I saw Arielle watching me, and the light sparking in her eye as she realized I was a threat. I ran in a rush all across the platform, so that she'd have to abandon her own fights if she wanted to come for me.
The Gamemakers sent sharks to the water around the Bloodbath. I survived them. A few days later, after I'd already killed two more, they sent a tsunami. I survived it. They sent a snake as long as a limousine, and a trembling quake that sank one of the islands, and a storm that toppled trees and blew Tributes away. I survived them. Not because of the things my father sent. The food filled my stomach, but he never had enough warning to send a life jacket or a raft. And I would have eaten anyway, on these islands full of fruit and animals. I only ate to make him happy.
Twenty-three, seventeen, fifteen, eleven, six. Each day, there were fewer Tributes left with me. Half the pack died in the breakup, most of the rest when the hurricane came. Finally, the only other Career left was Kazuo. Over the next week, we mopped up the four straggling outliers.
Kazuo didn't go easily. Neither did I. We met each other on the last island, driven to the center by the fire the Gamemakers first sent and then quenched as soon as we were in sight of each other. We were streaked with soot when we met, ash swirling around us and lying gray in our hair. The rain melted it down us, until we were striped like tigers.
No part of either of us was unmarred by our fighting. It struck me, as I rolled on the ashy ground and stuck my sword in Kazuo's side, that neither of us would survive this fight if the victor wasn't immediately airlifted out. Grime and dirt caked my open slashes, and the punctures Kazuo left in me were too deep for any bandage to help.
I think in the end it came down to anger. We were equally damaged, but there was more rage inside me, holding me up when I should have been dead. As Kazuo's face registered his tiredness and desperation, I could feel the sneer on my own as I got up on my knees and struck down at him lying on the ground. The sword bit deeply, deeper by far than it needed, but it wasn't enough for me. Kazuo wasn't even moving, but I still leaned down on it, slashing my palms on the blade as I shoved it through until his head lay free. I looked at it, its unblinking eyes watching the sky, as I waited for the sound of the hovercraft.
When I got back, I was the talk of the District. As soon as I got off the train, fellow Academy students swarmed around me, clamoring over each other to tell me how they'd knew I would make it and how much they always loved and supported me. I walked through them without a word. They'd never wanted me before I left, and I didn't want them now. I'd been through something they all claimed they wanted but none of them understood at all, and I'd lived. They would never understand anything about me, and I would never forget what they really thought of me. I was a Victor, and they weren't worth me.