To the Death
Summary: Forty-six times, The Hunger Games have been played. People have watched children fight to the death forty-six times. Now it is time for the Forty-Seventh Annual Hunger Games to begin. Twenty-Four will go in, but only one will come out. Who will be crowned the victor?
Ashton Abercrombie District Two
Today is my day; it is my seventh Reaping. This will be my last chance to enter, and win, The Hunger games. My parents bustle around the house, attempting to get ready, as I finish striating my tie. Suddenly my mother runs a comb through my hair, I slowly push her hand away and say, "Mother, stop fussing, my hair is fine!"
She sighs and clutches her comb with both hands, holding it close to her chest. Putting a hand on my shoulder she replies, "I know Ashtion, it's just… just that I know you want to volunteer. Can't I have this one more day to fuss?"
I let out a small chuckle, "I promise that you will have plenty of time to fuss over me, after I win. Now I've got to hurry, if I want to get close to the front!"
I can see that there are tears welling in her eyes, and I don't want to leave her, not like this. Quickly I pull her into a tight hug, and run my hand down her hair, "I'll be alright, I promise. And when I get home, you'll be so proud of me."
She pulls away and wipes her eye, "Your father and I have always been proud of you, I just wish you could see that!" Her hand is placed on my cheek, her thumb slightly stroking my face.
"You've trained well Mom, just like you do the Peacekeepers. I can win this, you'll see. Once I do, you won't ever have to worry about money again! I'll see you after the Reaping."
With that I rush out of the house, leaving my father to tend to my crying mother. As I walk down the street, my face forms into a hard glare.
"Ashtion, wait up!" one of my friends, Greed, yells to me. He is at my side within seconds. Then, he says the sentence, that only I should be saying, "I'm going to volunteer this year! Wish me luck, man!"
My glare turns into a deep frown, "What do you mean, you're volunteering?"
"The Reaping, I'm going to be a tribute! After all, it is my last shot," he smiles and gives me a slight push on the arm.
I don't speak after that, and instead we simply walk in silence. By the time we reach the Justice Building, only one thought is going through my head: I will the tribute this year, not Greed, and not anyone else! I am the one who will bring glory to our District, this is my year.
The escort walks on stage and goes through her usual speech. First she has to talk about how excited she is, and then a recap of last year's game, after that she finally gets to the point and draws a name. As she walks over to the bowl labeled 'BOYS' I prepare to run.
Her bony hand pulls the paper out, she begins to read. Out of the corner of my eye I see Greed run forward, his mouth starting to form the words. In a rush of adrenaline I rush up to him and end up punching him before he can finish the second word. Quickly, as I see another boy run up, clearly wanting to take my glory, I yell, "I volunteer! Your tribute is me, Ashton Abercrombrie!"
I make it to the stage, just as Greed is getting up from the ground, I can tell he is angry. His foot kicks into the dirt, as he returns to his place in line, with his arms crossed and fists clenched. It is clear that he hates me now, but I can't give up my spot! I don't dare look for my parents, knowing they will only make me go weak in front of the camera. Holding my head high, I glare over the crowd, with my arms folded across my chest. I intend to keep my promise to my mother, I will win!
Ashe Corinthos District Two
I hate fire, my adoptive parents, The Hunger Games, the Capitol, people. All of it, I can't help but hate it. My fear of fire has been with me, ever since I accidently set the one that killed my parents; the ones who loved me. For years I didn't care about The Huger Games, or the Capitol, but that changed when my twin brother was reaped. Tristan, my brother, died during the final two, in that flash of glory. After my parents died, I was adopted by a couple, one that I can't stand. It's not the fact that I hate them; it's the fact that they're not my parents.
I walk out of the house and make my way to the Reaping. As I stand in the Girls' sixteen year old section, I feel sick. My stomach begins to swirl as the male tribute volunteers. Every time I blink I see Tristan's face as the District Four Male impaled him. I see his body go limp, and hear the victory trumpets blare for District Four.
"Ashe Corinthos!" my head snaps up at the sound of the escort's voice. This time there are no screaming girls, desperately wanting to take the girl who is reaps' place. Slowly I make my way to the stage and look out to the crowd. I look to the girls who I knew wanted to volunteer this year, they're smirking at me. They know what I did, they know it was me who set the fire that killed my own parents, and they know this is what I deserve.
It's true, I deserve to have to face this fate, but I will not go out without a fight! I am going to show the Capitol what they really do to us. This is not a game; they make kids fight to the death. I am jerked from my thoughts by the escort, who leads me and the male tribute into the Justice Building.
No visits me during my time in the waiting room. As I sit on one of the wooden chairs, I can hear crying through the thin wall. It must be the boy, Ashton, and his family. His mother is crying, while he tries to comfort her. It sounds like Ashton's father is trying to give him advice; who to trust, where to aim in a fight, what to grab at the Cornucopia.
The pain in my heart makes me realize how much I wish my family was still here. It tells me how much I regret that fire, how much I wish I could have saved my brother. What was it like for them? For my parents to be trapped in that house, not knowing where their kids were? For my Tristan to come so close to coming home to me a victor, only to be killed in that last moment? Did they feel pain? Did their life flash before their eyes? Who did they think of?
A Peacekeeper comes and escorts me to the train. I look out the window as the train starts to move. The buildings that I know so well flash by me, and I know I won't see them again. Perhaps I am glad I won't come back, or maybe I'm just glad not to have to face the memories that torment me in my nightmares. When I die, no one will care. There is a reason no one volunteered for me, it's because I do deserve this. In nearly a week's time, I'll be free. My family will be together again, and that's all I've ever wanted.