CHAPTER ONE


And there I was, facing my doom just like my mother had decades ago.

I shouldn't have been surprised when the escort called my name into the microphone. After all, it was common for children of the past victors to also get reaped for the Hunger Games. Or should I say, chosen?

The Peacekeepers exited the room, and my father rushed in and kneeled in front of me. He cupped my cheek, his other hand running through my curls. His glassy eyes met mine until he shoved me into his chest.

Over his shoulder, I saw my mother standing adjacent to the door. Her long brown hair fell over her bowed head. Her arms were wrapped around her torso like a blanket.

This wasn't fair. My mother lived through her games, but now, she would have to watch me fight for mine. Couldn't one person get a break?

My father carefully pushed himself away from me, and he smiled. His hands grasped my shoulders, his grip like iron. A lone tear traced his cheekbone.

His hand fell from my shoulders and to my arms, trailing to my hands. His rough palms itched mine, but they were familiar; comforting.

"Oh, Anna…" My skin tingled from his gaze that crawled on my face as ants did to a crumb.

Even though my father sat right in front of me, kneeling, eyes praising me like I was a goddess, I couldn't help but think of my mother. Didn't she want to say goodbye? Couldn't she give me any advice? She was a victor after all, but wasn't she my mother first?

"I love you, Annabeth." A strangled sob clawed its way from my father's throat. "Remember when we created a train together?"

"A toy train." I corrected, a small smile creeping onto my lips.

He chuckled. "Yes, and your mother and I allowed you to design it."

"Worst decision you ever made."

A bitter laugh came from us.

I remembered that night like the back of my hand. Earlier that day, my mother had a panic attack when she burned herself cooking. When the screaming began, my father rushed into our small living area and wrapped his arms around her. He told me to leave the room, but by then, it had been too late.

For the remainder of the day, I hid from my mother. I didn't know what was wrong with her, what possessed her to scream in the middle of the day. I thought that perhaps, the burn hurt, but I was wrong.

My father had to sit me down beside my mother and explain that during the day, she sometimes had nightmares. I didn't understand what the Hunger Games had done to her yet. I didn't even know what they were. But now I was here, only bringing that trauma back but with a punch.

Tears blurred my vision, but I let them fall, wanting to get one last clear, accurate, alive image of my father before he became a figment of my memory.

"I love you, dad. I love you so much." I leaned forward, burying my face into his chest. His hands moved to my back and hair.

Loud sobs tumbled from my throat. I gripped my father's shoulders, never wanting to let go. He cried with me, small hiccups falling out of his mouth.

He didn't only cry for me. He cried because he lost his wife more than once, and now he was losing his only child. Last time, he gained another when he lost a piece of one. Now, he was losing two and not gaining anything.

If my mother couldn't muster up the courage to speak to me, she wouldn't speak to my father. Her only child was getting sent off to her death, and she couldn't even look at me. Perhaps that led to her heart being ripped into two?

Maybe that was what made it hurt more when the Peacekeepers barged into the small room and ripped my father off of me, dragging me to the awaiting train.

And the final memory of my mother would be her yanking at her hair while collapsing to her knees, her mouth opening with a cry.


When the Peacekeepers slammed the doors shut, I was not expecting my mom to ignore me at first. Well, she punched the wall beside her first with a scream of anger.

I pushed myself off of the couch, rushing to her as she fell to the ground cradling her bleeding knuckles. "Mom!"

Crouching beside her, I took her hands into my own, rubbing her knuckles, attempting to soothe the pain. She had her forehead leaned on the wall, her eyes squeezed shut. Silent cries tumbled from her mouth.

"Please, mom. Stop crying, please." I pleaded, clenching my hands tighter around her smaller ones.

My mom sat back on her feet, peeling her eyes open. Her eyes, which usually sparkled like ocean waves, resembled a stormy day at sea. "I'm so sorry, Percy."

I folded my arms around my mom, squeezing her as if the winds would carry me away if I didn't. My nose picked up on her sweet scent. She had been working at the local bakery shortly before the reaping. Although, she didn't smell like the bakery to me; she smelt like home.

Through the thin walls, I could hear the Peacekeepers muttering to themselves. My hands gripped my mom's arms. How dare they get to live without worry? Why do they get to do the harming, the killing, and live like they don't have a knife pointed at their backs?

Oh wait, they don't.

No one that works like dogs for the Capital has to worry about being a game piece for them to play with. They aren't pets like me, my mom, and at once, my dad. No, they lived in a kind of freedom people from the Districts would never have.

"I will come back," I whispered in her ear. "I will never leave you. With me, you will never be alone, mom."

"You said yourself that my skills with the trident are on par with dad's. I know how to fish, and cook thanks to you."

Mom broke out into sobs, harder, louder than I'd ever heard before. Even for the first time when I asked about my dad, she didn't cry this hard. Even when she found out that my ex-stepfather abused me, she didn't cry like this. Nothing he had ever seen compared to this.

She pushed herself back from the hug, cupping my cheeks. We were face to face, so close that I saw the freckles on her nose and cheeks. Her warmth fell onto me. The motherly warmth, home, comfort, and love that gleamed around her figure came onto me.

"Percy you have got to understand me. You will meet people that aren't afraid to hurt you. You're going to face challenges that you never have before. Your body and mind will be put to the test." She took a deep breath and massaged his cheekbones.

I opened my mouth to speak, but she covered it with her finger. She smiled at me, but with tears marking her face, I wasn't convinced. She kissed his forehead, moving to hold him in her arms like she did when I was a little child. Her head lay on mine, one arm wrapped around my shoulders and the other around my lower back.

Closing my eyes, I sunk into her arms. I knew she was right. I was going to have to face forces and challenges like never before. She saw my dad fight for his life, go insane, and pass away in the end.

She saw her lover suffer, all while carrying me in her belly. She suffered through years of abuse for me, and still shows her winning smile and glowing eyes every day. My mom wasn't only my mom but an angel sent from the heavens.

For her, I would fight harder than I ever have before. I would not give up, not falter, for the sake of saving her. She suffered for me, with me, and now I will not make her suffer any longer. She will not watch the games for fear of losing her only child.

Oh, my mom will watch the games to see her son rise to victory. To avenge his dad and sprinkle a new sense of victory into the family.

"Honey, I love you, more than you will ever know. Every minute you're gone, I will think of you. I believe in you."

I opened my eyes when she sharply inhaled. "Don't forget who you are."

With that, the Peacekeepers barged into the room and escorted me away to the train while I called out one last "I love you!" to my guardian angel.


This is for fun. This is my pressure free work, and I had a lot of fun and really like how it turned out:) I hope you all like and enjoy it too! Until next time!