All right. I'm not sure if I should kill one a chapter until the feast. I don't know what I'm doing really.
Alex's PoV:
I lie in my sleeping bag. I try and remember the young boy in District 2 I left behind. He laughed and he loved the sister who died while he was in this pit. Replaced by a bloodthirsty monster that grows stronger daily. I call him Insanity and 'he' has become 'me'. He did this. He has bloodied my hands.
I start patrol. My eyes sweep around the wood. It's thick and dense, hard to navigate. I hear a muffled yelp from the bushes behind me. Sharply, I turn. It's an undergrown mite, maybe 13? He has a broken pair of nunchucks and has started crying. How pathetic. I slide a knife through his shirt and pin him to a tree. A knife finds its way to his stomach and throat and a deadly scrawl reads 'You're next'.
I make my way back. Screams merge with birdsong. Are they any different, really? No. They aren't. They never will be, as long as the Games are still played. And I won't make it home. Likely the Capitol will kill me off. But not today. A cannon fires. It's the mite. The sky says 'Tim'. Pathetic little Timmy, wants to go home to mummy.
I can't feel emotions. I'm a machine. I kill. I torture. I make people fear me. But this mask the mentors forced upon my face has been here so long, it has fused with my face.