The 38th Hunger Games is coming up soon. Character submissions are open but only a few characters are going to be mentioned by name. Districts 1& 8 are already finished and this isn't a merry 'Choose-Your-Tribute' Games, it's only a small part of the storyline
Aeros moved in with us and ended up living in the storage cupboard under our stairs. He grew taller and broader rapidly after starting to eat properly and was now a fairly formidable figure. Every morning we'd meet at the bottom of the stairs and visit the factory. He'd got me a job as an official apprentice mechanic and we now walked hand-in hand as we approached the warehouse.
Life seemed good, despite the oppressive nature of District 8, I felt free and safe with Ross around.
Even my sister Victoria couldn't ruin the mood with her stupid jokes and superior attitude. In a few weeks it would be the 38th Hunger Games and she couldn't be more of a bitch I she tried. She treated them like a fairytale fear, as though it couldn't happen to the perfect Victoria Coin. Waving her tesserae in my face and gloating, I had to kick myself every time I found myself wishing she would get in the Games.
Except than no one deserved that fate.
That night, Ross was out with some male friends and Tori was out as well so my father, Belvedere, took me with him to visit Paylor and his wife in the Victor's Village.
Despite the fact that I accepted my station in life, the Victor's Village made my blood boil. I could see the pipes from underground heaters and the pumps, spewing fresh water into the drains.
Even the second set of boots on the doorsteps made me want to hurl something, do something. It was an obscene reminder of the power of the Capitol held over the poor, starving masses, everything; down to the fact only two houses bore signs of life. A reminder of the 72 kids who were never coming home.
When we walked inside the luxurious house, the rush of warmth felt like it was burning me, like the Capitol was breathing down my back.
I knew my father was trying to stop this, but in my opinion he could never be too soon.
Reginald Paylor was a thirty-year old who already bore grey hairs around his ears and a light growth of stubble to compliment the huge circles under his eyes. I knew that he wanted to save his District, but the face of the haggard man in front of me told it all. There would be no victory parade down the Capitol's candy-coloured crap-hole of a city. He had all but given up and I could see that the excitement in my father's eyes was all that kept him going through their meetings.
I tried listening to their discussions about which warehouses could have rebel sympathies and how to organise an assault, but I was a kid and it bored me like hell.
I ended up slumped on a huge, fluffy couch watching TV. It was mostly Capitol news broadcasts but when it showed District 13 I had to stop myself from leaping toward the screen with the site of my home.
Even with Ross, I still felt tired of trying to hide my place of birth, climbing under the roof slats to hide my father's paperwork and worrying the Peacekeepers were coming to get me when I slept and the sight of my old home only made me feel worse.
The meeting came to an end around ten o'clock, earlier than usual and I could tell from the dejected expression on his face that he too was on the brink of giving up, tired of losing a battle before it started.
When we got home, we had to have watery rice with salted meat seeing as our oil supply was barely enough to heat the house until the next delivery of the tesserae, an uncomfortable reminder of the death threat hanging over our heads, a brutal thought that the next Hunger Games were coming all too soon. Ross seemed to sense my discontent and sat close by at dinner, but I could see the fear in his eyes and we both knew that there was nothing you could do to console each other.
After dinner, I ended up playing chess with my father on out chipped wooden set.
I was black and he was white so he ended up starting first, but I was already several steps ahead anyway.
If I moved my knights on either side of the board out side first, it would create a distraction from the movement o the bishops and the rooks, slowly making their way down the board.
By luck, the knight on the left captured his rook but a bishop left the knight stranded. I slowly forgot about the trapped knight, but as the game went on, I realised the final gambit would fail without both knights in play.
I lost both bishops and three pawns but the knight was free. I left both knights in danger, but he was missing most of his pieces and seemed focused on saving his king. In the next turn, I had both knights in place when he captured my queen.
"I've got you, little princess," he said as he twirled the black queen between his fingertips.
"But I've got you," I replied as I moved the knight, leaving him in a checkmate and showing him the little white king as I knocked it over.
"You're getting better," he replied, feigning happiness behind his exhausted-looking façade.
I smiled, but I was tired as well and I got up to go to bed in my little closet upstairs.
"Don't forget your Reaping clothes!" he called after me, leaving me dead in my tracks.
The Reaping was… tomorrow?
Yay for cliff hangers! Anyway, I hope you enjoy it. If you submit a tribute, you want to do it soon because any selected names appear in two chapters time.
Review even if you're flaming; it's always good to know people are reading the story.
Next Chapter: The REAPING