All For The Games

Chapter Three

My mother and father walk in the room. My dad looks teary-eyed. He's a softie. My mother's face is as hard and set as stone. That's why they work so well together.

First my mom speaks. "Peeta, I know this is going to be hard for you, but maybe we'll finally have a victor. She is a hunter."

"She's a hunter, not a killer." I don't let myself cry. It's not worth it. I'll just look weaker than I do now.

My father turns away from me. He looks down. "I'm so sorry, Peeta. If I could just-"

I cut him off. "I know, dad. I love you too."

My mother looks toward me, almost expectantly. I'll never know how I feel about that woman. Does she even care?

Years ago when I had burnt a loaf of bread purposely, she had gotten so mad. I had given the burnt bread to Katniss. She was lying out there in the rain alone. I knew what it meant. She had to get back to the Seam and she hadn't any food for Prim or her mother. She would starve. I could tell by her face that she had given up. If she didn't get food (she probably hadn't eaten in weeks), she would be done.

So I tossed her some bread. And now she's going to die. Or worse, win.

My mother hadn't cared about her then. Why was she cheering Katniss on now? It doesn't make any sense.

I can't tell her I love her. I just can't. A few Peacekeepers escort my parents out the door, so luckily I don't have to find out what I was about to say.

I don't care about proving my mother wrong, that Katniss will win. I just want Panem to know that I am free. I am my own man. The Capitol does not own me.

I don't want to be a victor, that much I know. Because I would have no one to watch every day walk home. No one to love.

But when I die, I will die with victory in my heart. I can hear a menacing voice in my head, telling me there is no victorious death.

Panem will know, when I die, I die for Distrct 12. For Katniss and her family.

It all sounds glorious until I realize what I'm actually talking about. Dying. Death. They mean so much more than what we think of when we hear the word.

It means you feel no pain. It means you no longer have emotion. It means you can't know what happens to those you love. It means you'll never see, hear, taste, smell, touch anything ever again. It means you'll never see the stars again, in the night sky. It means you'll never watch a sunset or sunrise again.

It means you're DONE.

You're DONE. And why? Why are you dead? Your death is all for the games.

I'm DONE?