Hello everyone! I'm just saying, I am so, so, so sorry for this late chapter! I'm just busy and forgetful and stuff. And, I apologize for this terrible chapter. It's really really awkward and terrible. Please forgive me.
My breath comes in ragged gasps. My forehead is plastered with sweat. Yet I still feel a grim determination burning like a wildfire. I am determined to live. To stay alive, I vowed to fight. I've been training hard; throwing knives and spears, tying knots, starting fires, and practicing hand-to-hand combat until my hands grew red with sores. No other tribute crossed my mind as my training consumes practically my entire being. It's the last day of training, and despite all this preparation, I am worried. Will I have enough skills? What is my special skill anyways? I have nothing to show the Gamemakers, whoever they are, when I walk into the room for my private session. This terrifies me.
As I am about to throw my last knife, a booming voice sounds. "Tributes, please report to the waiting area in preparation for your private sessions."
My blade was aimed at a dummy's neck, but panic and shock overwhelm me, and I end up dropping it, straight onto my foot, where it pierces through the thin leather shoe and cuts a sizeable gash.
Great, I think. Now I have an even bigger disadvantage.
I try not to think about this as I sit nervously on the edge of a chair and try to staunch the flow of blood from my foot.
"Injury already?" I hear a voice say. I glance over impatiently and see Travis, my fellow tribute. He doesn't seem nervous at all, which is strange, as he hasn't been very good at much. But I haven't really been paying attention to him anyways…
"Knife accident." I say shortly as I press my sleeve to my wound. I add a "Good luck, I suppose." But I'm not sure if I mean it. I have no clue how I feel about Travis. I don't know him very well, but a part of me wishes I did.
"You too," he says softly. Then, he does something that surprises me. He nudges my sleeve away from my cut and presses his own against it. I feel the urge to push him away, but I sit there, stunned. What is he doing?
"What… wait, why-w-what…are-y-you…" I stammer. He ignores me, and continues to dab his sleeve on my injury. He then rips off a part of the fabric and ties it around my foot.
"There, temporary bandage." He mutters, and he's turned away in isolation as quickly as he came up to me.
Well, that was confusing.
And then he's gone. He's been called in. I'm next. I'm next! The anxiety is almost overwhelming. Everything feels like it's closing in. I have to run, but there's only one place to run. And I soon find myself in that place.
The training area. In front of the Gamemakers. Alone.
I don't know what I'm going to do, so I'll just do the only thing I know. What I've learned in my short time here at the Training Center. I pick up a bundle of knives, head to a dummy, and start throwing. Each hits a fatal place. Neck, head, heart. Not too awful. I continue to throw until my hands are sore, after which I hesitate. I'm not really sure of what to do now. There is a large rope and net course to teach tributes to climb trees and evade danger, but what is the impressive part of that? I'm really just scaling a rope or two. Yet I have no choice, for I still walk wearily up to the course, holding my last three knives carefully. I rapidly ascend the net and perch myself between two thin, precariously hanging straps, just barely clinging to them with my legs. Then I get an idea. I grasp the first knife and aim at the target, fifty feet away. It tears through the air and impales the center. And so goes the second, and the third. There is the end, the end of my display. I feel somewhat mixed feelings. Pride? Astonishment, that I did not fail. And most of all, even more anxiety. I still do not compare to any of the tributes. I do not stand out, and I am worried that I will have no chance at surviving in the arena.
And that's it! Please review! I've done 5 chapters and only have 3 reviews! You can do better than that! Please? Okay, thanks :P