OH. MY. GOD. We're to the COUNTDOWN, people! Next chapter is the BLOODBATH! HOLY COW. Just as a warning, this chapter will feature a death. :)
District 7: Carlina Trask, Age 15
My breathing is quick and unsteady as I push my way through tangled vines, my footsteps pounding against the ground. I hear the crack of a gun as it fires into the night, and it turns my blood to ice. I spare a glance behind me, but it's too dark to see anything.
Suddenly, I feel myself falling forward. To my horror, I realize that I've tripped over a root. I look over my shoulder, and this time, I can make out the dim silhouettes of people, advancing towards me with incredible speed.
A scream catches in my throat when someone grabs my arm, pulling me to my feet. I turn to the person, examining their face. She's got my same dirty blond hair and pale skin, my same blue-green eyes…
I realize with surprising certainty that it's my mother.
My mom runs through the forest, dragging me along with her, until we reach a small cottage. Once there, my mom opens the door and slams it behind us, bolting it shut. It's not long before we hear the grunts and shouts of peacekeepers as they pound on the door. I silently pray that they're not strong enough to break through.
The sounds of the peacekeepers begin to quiet, and I think that we've evaded their grasp. However, I start to hear a faint creaking noise in the walls. Dust rains down on top of my head, and when I look up, my eyes fill with terror when I see the entire roof collapse on us, suffocating us under layers and layers of wood and dirt…
I let out a shout and open my eyes. It was a dream. I breath a sigh of relief, but it ends quickly when I realize where I am.
The Hunger Games are today.
I find myself beginning to hiccup uncontrollably, and I glance at the clock beside me. 5:03. The games will begin in less than two hours. I can feel my chest twist painfully inside me. In less than two hours, I'll probably be lying dead on the floor. The thought makes me want to puke.
It's cruel, the way the Capitol can kill twenty three different people every year without a second thought. I hate them for it, how they laugh and joke when some of us are heading to our inevitable deaths.
But then again, it's the Capitol. What do you expect?
District 11: Cole Cambridge, Age 13
My eyes shoot open as my mom tiptoes into my room, the door shutting gently behind her. "Are you awake?" She murmurs to me, sitting on the edge of my bed. I nod wearily. She hands me an apple, saying, "Here. Have something in your stomach before the games begin." I take the apple and nibble on it. I'm not hungry, but I know my mom's right, so I do as she asks.
Thoughts of the Hunger Games drift through my brain, and before I can stop myself, I find myself weeping hot, bitter tears. My mom wraps me in a hug.
"I know, I know," She whispers in my ear, stroking me lovingly, "I know it's terrifying. But you have to stay strong. You've got to come home, for me and for your dad." I nod slowly before bursting into a new set of tears.
"Why do they do this to us?" I whisper, my voice thick. "Why do they find our pain amusing?"
"I don't know," My mom admits, "But don't think about that right now. You can't change them. They've been doing this for decades. Right now, you need to focus on surviving." I take a deep breath. She's correct, of course. The Capitol can do whatever they want, and nothing we say or do can stop them.
I slowly stand up, but my mom pulls me back onto my bed. "Another thing, Cole," She says, "I know you have a crush on Angelica."
"No, I don't!" I shout indignantly, even though we both know it's a lie. My mom cracks a smile.
"Of course you do. It's pretty clear by how awkward you act around her." She clears her throat. "But listen. I don't want you to get too attached to her, okay? Love never ends well in the arena. Only one tribute can come out of it alive, after all. Try to keep your distance from her."
"But-" I start, but my mom shakes her head firmly. I sigh. She has a good point, I suppose. "Fine," I agree. Her shoulders relax and she pulls me into a tight hug.
"Please come home to me," She murmurs, "Please come home."
District 9: Albin Ainsley, Age 15
"Are you ready?" My stylist, Doridon, asks me, his voice filled with excitement.
"No," I respond with a snort. Doridon rolls his eyes.
"Don't worry," He tells me, you'll do great, trust me!" His words do little to encourage me.
After a little preparation, I'm taken up to the top floor of the Training Center. A hovercraft zips into the morning air out of seemingly nowhere, a ladder dropping down towards me. I grab onto it and instantly feel myself freeze. I'm raised into the body of the hovercraft. A plump Capitol woman waits for me there, holding a syringe.
"I'm Heliortha," The woman tells me. "I need to inject this tracker into you. It'll hurt, but it will be over with quickly, I promise."
A sharp pain blossoms through my arm as the syringe carrying the tracker makes contact with it. Once it's been injected, the ladder releases me, and the hovercraft takes off.
I rock back and forth nervously in my seat, staring out the window as the city turns to lush forests. An avox comes in carrying a plate filled with food, but my stomach can only handle a few bites. I'm too nervous to do much of anything right now. My head is throbbing, and my legs feel like jelly.
"You know, you aren't going to get much food in the arena," Doridon remarks. "It's called the Hunger Games, after all." He cracks up at this like it's the funniest thing in the world, but I'm not in the mood to laugh with him.
After about a half an hour, the windows black out, probably to hide any sort of view we can get of the arena. It suddenly strikes me that the arena must be close. I feel myself hyperventilating, and I force myself to calm down.
You can do this, Albin. You can survive. The thoughts don't comfort me, though. In fact, they only make me even more scared of the events to come.
District 2: Octavian Grimes, Age 18
A grin spreads across my face as the hovercraft slows to a stop and the ladder drops down once again, leading underground into the launch room. These games are what I've been preparing for my entire life. This is what I was born to do.
My entire body goes still as I grab onto the ladder, and I feel myself going down, down, down. My stylist, Perry, and I walk the chambers until we reach my launch room. I can feel adrenaline coursing through my veins, my heart pumping steadily against my chest. I can feel my excitement threatening to overwhelm me, so I make myself stay cool. I don't want to do something stupid in the arena, after all, something that'll get me killed before the fun begins.
"I'm proud of you, Octavian," Perry informs me with a smile. "You're going to kill it out there in the arena, I'm sure of it." He gives me a fist bump and then hands me the outfit I'm supposed to wear. I slip on the cargo shorts and thin t-shirt, pulling the green lightweight jacket on top of it. I then slip on my shoes, which are firm black sneakers that seem designed to do well in harsh conditions. The clothes seem to suggest that I'll be going to someplace warm.
While we wait for the tube that will take me to the arena, Perry hands me a pear to eat. I scarf it down immediately, then go through an entire bottle of water.
I finger the lock of Jessica's hair, a trickle of nervousness running down my spine. What if I die? What if I let down District 2 and get killed by some scrappy outer district tribute in the bloodbath?
Negative thinking will get you nowhere, I remind myself. Just then, an announcement comes on to enter my tube, which has slid open. Perry smiles and pats me on the back.
"You've got this," He tells me. "Just stay calm. You're the strongest tribute in these games. Remember that, okay? You can do this." I thank him, then enter my tube. It stays still for a second, then begins to rise, going up into the arena. For a moment, all is dark. Then the metal platform I stand on shoves me into the light. A voice fills the warm, moist air as I struggle to make out my surroundings.
"Let the 48th Hunger Games begin!"
District 8: Marco Shavel, Age 44
I had made my decision before I had entered the hovercraft that would take me to the arena. I can't play these cruel games. I can't give the Capitol what they want. I won't win, anyway- they'll make sure of that. I'd rather go out with some dignity.
As soon as the countdown begins, I leap off of my pedestal without hesitation. There's nothing left for me in this world. Everyone I love is dead. And soon, I will be too.
A smile plays across my lips as I hit the ground and darkness surrounds me. Soon, I'll be with Veronica and Tom.
Soon, I'll finally find my peace.
District 4: Nemo Fisher, Age 18
A scream dies on my lips when I hear the explosion.
I spin to the right, almost falling off my pedestal, to see an empty plate where a tribute should be right beside me. Blood and gore splatters the ground, and bile builds up in my throat. I glance around the area to try and discover who perished, but my mind is racing too fast for me to figure it out.
I realize that while I was distracted, fifteen seconds have already passed on the countdown. I curse myself for being so stupid and quickly take in my surroundings. The Cornucopia is in a small, lush clearing. Surrounding us on all four sides is a huge jungle. Tall trees tower over us, making me feel tiny.
I glance beside me and see that Verin is on my left. To the right, past the empty plate, stands Cole.
Terror quickly begins to rise in my chest. I could be dead in less than a minute. My body could soon be one of the many littering the ground of the Cornucopia, a knife sticking out of my back or a spear stuck in the center of my chest.
Relax, Nemo. That won't happen. You're trained, remember? You can do this. My thoughts do nothing to ease the fear, though.
I take a quick glance at the clock. 30. 29. 28. I take a survey of the Cornucopia, looking for a trident amidst the bounty. I don't see one. I'm not surprised- they're usually vacant at the Cornucopia- but it still horrifies me that my favorite weapon is missing. I take another look at the weapons and spot a gleaming sword about twenty feet away from me. I figure it'll do, and I turn my feet towards it.
I take another look at the clock. 18. 17. 16. I peer at the other tributes to see how their reacting. Most look terrified. A few are excited. Some stand completely still, no signs of emotions on their faces.
10. 9. 8.
I begin to mentally prepare myself for the screams that are bound to begin soon.
7. 6. 5.
I take a deep breath to calm my nerves.
4. 3. 2. 1.
0.
The gong rings, and the games begin.
24th Place: Marco Shavel- Jumped off of pedestal before the time was up
I honestly don't really know what to say about Marco. He only even exists because I randomly decided to throw together a (kind of stupid) plot twist with Tom. Still, though, Marco had a tough life from beginning to end. I never designed him to make it past the bloodbath, so he was pretty much doomed from the beginning. At least you're at peace, now.
THE NEXT CHAPTER IS THE BLOODBATH OMG OMG OMG OMG OMG OMG OMG OMG. I'm literally gonna have a seizure.
Okay, so I want to remind everyone to PLEASE review if you want your tribute to live. I pretty much have all the bloodbath deaths planned out, but reviewing can definitely change that. If you've reviewed this story, even if it's only a couple of times, I gave your tributes a lot more mercy in my death plan.
Also, you might remember that back in the first chapter, I promised that the first five tributes submitted to me would get a free pass through the first day! This advantage goes to Scorpius, Livia, Angelica, Beckett, and Rois. :D
I've completely forgot about the shoutouts I was going to do every chapter. Today's shoutout goes to all the people who have favorited or followed me or my story. Thanks so much!