District Two
Jeremiah Sentris's POV
More. I've always needed to do more, be better, to become the best that I could possibly be and beyond. I guess that's why I'm running around the yard with an eighty pound sack of wet cement on my back.
Reaping day, a day of rest by maybe the rest of Panem, but here in District Two, it's anything but. We still go on with our lives like normal. Training, working, blasting, patrolling, building, whatever, we still do it. Even now, at seven in the morning, my sleeveless shirt and thin pants are soaked with rain and sweat.
"Your pathetic Jeremiah!" My father shouts at me with his ruthless coach like voice. "Getting tired already? You've only run twenty seven laps!" With a huge cement pack on my back in the rain while traveling through mud.
Our yard wasn't that big, but it wasn't exactly small either. In addition to that, I've been up since five in the morning doing these stupid training exercises of his. Dragging me out of bed before putting me to the grinder, he didn't even let me have breakfast before we started, all he said after he threw me out bed was to get dressed lightly and come outside in three minutes or less. Not only that, but he didn't care that it was raining heavily outside at that time.
My twelve year old sister was with us, but she was only carrying a fifteen pound backpack, and she had quit over half an hour earlier after running only ten laps. She was now doing repetitive sword techniques while father focused on me. "Pick up the pace and run!"
I was doing a steady jog, but it wasn't good enough for him, he wanted a run, but I couldn't run, my legs couldn't handle it. As they were, they were already in pain and still tired from what he put me through yesterday.
I kept on moving though, because he hated when I stopped, or even slowed down.
I felt the air I was breathing in and out rush painfully through my lungs as my legs burned so badly that I thought that they might snap at any moment.
I felt my legs slip on the wet ground, and there was nothing I could do to stop myself. Even if I had the strength, the eighty pound cement bag would of weighed me down and made me crash to the ground anyway. I tried anyway, and failed. Trying to stop myself only caused me to crash into the ground harder. A wave of pain rush through my face and back as I made contact with the ground.
Well, at least my legs were getting a break. "Get the fuck up Jeremiah!" My father shouted angrily.
I tried to get up, but I couldn't, I was too tired and my legs hurt.
"I'm not going to get up!" I shouted to my father. I didn't want to run anymore, it was stupid, the reapings were in three hours and if I wasn't fit to walk I'd get killed. Not that dad seemed to care, if you were fit to talk you were fit to do anything in his mind. "I don't want to spend reaping day running around with a wet sack of cement on my back as you shout at me!"
"What the fuck did you say to me?" He shouted as I heard his footsteps getting closer and closer to me. "I'm training you to be a victor! You think you can do that? Huh? You think that your good enough as you are? I'm going to tell you the truth, your not!"
"Better then you are." I told him, earning me a sharp kick to the side. I grunted as I took in the blow.
"Shut the fuck up punk." He snarled at me. "Now get up before you make me really hurt you."
"You can't hurt me." I challenged.
I then felt a heavy boot press on the back of my head, causing my head to sink slightly into the wet ground that was half mud. I couldn't breathe as dad pressed my face into the thick brown sludge. I tried to free myself, but I was too weak and dad was too heavy. I hated this, I hated his training, I hated his methods, I hated all of this.
I felt my body shutting down, but then dad released me before I felt myself passing out.
I lifted my head out of the mud and breathed in the fresh air. I knew that he wasn't going to kill me, but it sure felt like it.
"Well," My father said. "We're on the far side of the lawn, so I guess you can crawl back to the house if your too tired to continue." He then gave me another sharp kick to the side before I heard him walking away from me.
Damn it. I was on the far side of the lawn and I had to crawl through mud with aching legs, aching back, with little energy, no breakfast, and an eighty pound cement bag on my back. Fuck. The academy was hard on us and pushed us to train so that we could volunteer, but dad was worse then the harshest instructor at school. The instructors knew how to limit damage to our bodies, they pushed us but didn't try to kill us. Dad, he just didn't know when to quit. He's push us and push us and push us some more, then we'd collapse and he'd kick us and shout some more, telling us how pathetic we were and how we were never going to be victors.
Though, truth be told, there were times at the academy that rivaled dad in ruthlessness. Those were days that I never forgot.
Victory Valentine's POV
Fuck my mother's training, I didn't feel like doing it today, so I snuck out of the house while she was still asleep. Valley also didn't want to do training today, so she came along with me. How she was awake at four in the morning I don't know. She said that she couldn't sleep, but I don't know why she couldn't sleep. I didn't ask, the more we talked the more likely mom would wake up, and I didn't want her to know that I was out just yet.
Five in the morning, that's when mom wakes us up so that we can train before we head off to the academy to train and study. She's been doing that for as long as I remember, so it was easy to plan ahead.
Today's my final reaping day. At age eighteen I was going to go into the reapings one last time, and before that, I was going to have one last training session with mom before heading off. But I didn't want to train, I've been training since I was nine, I didn't need anymore training.
The skills that I had acquired were as good as they were ever going to get, four hours of training weren't going to improve them in anyway what so ever. And the things that I couldn't use? It's not like I'm going to improve with them in four short hours when I tried to develop my skills with them for half my life.
"What's mom going to say when she finds out that we've skipped her training session?" My sister asked me as we sat in a dinner that was open at all hours of the day. At this time of day, the only people that they'd be serving right now would be peacekeepers and late night workers and maybe the odd kid who decided to stay out late. But today, because it was reaping day, they were only serving us and some peacekeepers that weren't helping the Capitol folks setting up the stage in the center of the square.
"Don't know, don't care." I answered honestly as I sipped on a glass of black coffee. "Today is the day that mom's reign of terror ends and we can finally start living the way we want to."
"What do you mean?" My little sister asked me, curiosity filled her eyes. I knew that look on her face, she wanted to know and she wanted to know now.
I smiled as I told her, feeling a mixture of happniess, sadness, and anger inside.
"I'm going to volunteer," I told her. "And when I win, everything's going to change. The way mom treats us, our way of living, everything."
"So life'll get better?" My sister asked as I saw her smiling brightly.
"Yes." I told her happily. "Life will be so much better." No more training, no more worry, no more falling over from exhaustion, nothing like that would have to happen again.
Despite how mom acts around us, she can be reasonable at times, but only if it works in her favor. But that didn't matter now, I struck a deal with her that will benefit everyone in this family.
Jeremiah Sentris's POV
"Look on the bright side, my mom says, you'll be incredibly skilled and strong when you volunteer." I told my best friend, Preston Link, with an edge in my voice. "Not if I get killed first. I won't be able to do anything, then all my sacrifices will be for nothing. Everything I survived, everything that I've done, everything that I've been through, all for nothing."
"Well," Preston said. "Think about it this way, when you think your about to die, just think that those that left before you are going to beat you up so badly that you'll wish that you hadn't died." Well there was a thought.
"Yeah," I told him, thinking of those people. "And I wouldn't blame them either." If I died and met those people again, they'd want to do more then just beat me up, they'd want to do more, much more. "But I'm not them, so they're just going to have to wait for decades to come."
"That's the spirit." Perston cheerfully told me as we walked to the square.
It hadn't yet stopped raining, so the ground that we walked on had turned into mud and was threatening to take away my boots with each step. My sister, Abby, had already lost her left boot, and that caused her to get a free ride on my back. Even though I was still hurting from this morning's training exercise, I wasn't going to let my sister walk around in the ice cold mud with only one boot on.
As we continued to head to the square, my friend spoke up. "Telling you man, this year's Hunger Games are going to be the best ever."
"Why is that?" I asked.
"It's a quarter quell," He answered, like it was obvious. "That means it's not a normal Hunger Games." Yeah, everyone knows that. "I bet you that the twist was so horrible and so brutal that that's why President Blizzard decided to keep it a secret until the last second." That's a possibility.
"So what do you think it is?" I asked, wondering what he thought the secret reading of the card was. I hoped that it wasn't a forced reapings of twelve year olds, Abby was good with knives, but she wasn't ready for the arena yet. She wasn't ready to experience the things that they threw at you until it was too late.
"Don't know, don't care. As long as there's blood and killing I'm down with it."
Perston was a Hunger Games addict, but that came with him being a violent individual. I think he's borderline psychopathic. But considering what goes on in this district, I'm not really surprised, or am stupid enough to think that he's the only one of his kind. He's sane though, so he's not always in the violent mood or talks about bloodshed all the time. In fact, he's quite humorous at times.
"I should of guessed."
We continued to walk towards the square until we were in the line up with all the other kids. As we walked towards the sign in desk, Abby pointed something strange out.
Perston and I looked to where she was pointing, and saw huge black cages with white numbers stenciled on them. Age groups, in cages. Did the Capitol start to get sick of seeing us fight each other for the honor of volunteering?
"Those damn cages," Perston said with a bit of anger. "Now there won't be any fights to get to the stage." I guess that's all he's worried about, just the violent part of the show. But then I saw him smile. "Or maybe they draw an age group and they all have to go into the arena." With his beaming smile, I could tell that he'd really like that. A whole age group of two genders from twelve districts, that would be hundreds of kids murdering each other in the arena. The bloodbath would be huge. By the time day three of the games roll around, the arena would be covered with blood.
I hoped that that wasn't the case, there'd be too many people to take care of and it would take forever for the games to end. And if I got reaped, well, there was Perston to take care of, and it wouldn't be easy. And Abby...
"What are they for?" Abby asked, clearly not hearing what Perston had just said moment earlier.
"I don't know." I responded. This was a pain, what the hell was going on? I don't know.
I got to the sign in booth and started to sign in.
"Name?" The Capitol attendant asked in her monotone voice.
"Jeremiah Sentris." I answered.
"Age?"
"Seventeen."
"Tesserae?"
"None." I told them. Nobody needed Tesserae, so we didn't need to enter our names more times then we needed to. Plus, when you have a victor as a family member, you'd never have to worry about money ever again.
"Get to your age cage." She told me before I placed Abby down.
"Just answer all her questions," I told my sister who was signing in for the first time. "And when your done, just go to the cage marked twelve on the girl's side."
"Okay." Abby answered calmly, like it was no big deal, which it wasn't. I just wanted to make sure she knew what she was doing.
As I walked to the cage marked: 17, I hoped that they wouldn't call on the twelve year olds.
Victory Valentine's POV
Stupid Hunger Games, stupid Capitol people who don't even look at us unless we volunteer. To them, we're nothing until we're of us to them, which means we're in the games and giving them entertainment.
That Capitol lady didn't even recognize my last name, Valentine, and I'd think that she'd of recognized it because of my brother entering the games three years ago. But I guess losers of the games are of no use to them either.
The Capitol allowed him to die, they let that girl, Creek Drake kill him and let her win. He was a good fighter, but the Capitol doesn't just care about who's the better fighter, they also care about how you present yourself and how good you look. Vlad wasn't good looking, but Creek was, and that was how she won instead of him. Vlad was a better fighter, strong then her, more skilled with a sword then she was with a spear, but she won instead.
When the pack of mutts came in the final six, they killed two tributes, one of which was a loser from Twelve, and the other was my brother. And unlike the District Twelve loser, Vlad wasn't missing a leg. Guess the Capitol didn't want Creek to meet her end, so they killed my brother, the only one who could stand up to her. Creek easily won after Vlad's demise.
But I was confident about myself, I'm as skilled as Vlad was at killing, and I've got good looks that the Capitol will admire. From what I've heard from people, I might be on par with District One girls. Long curly brown hair, blue eyes, and an athletic body from all the training that I've gone through over the course of half my life. I'm strong and good looking, a combination that would give me the advantage to win the games.
I rubbed my fingers on the twin dogs that hung around my neck, asking my brother for strength as I walked into the eighteen year old cage with all the other girls.
I feared situations like this, being trapped in small spaces that were inescapable. Actually, just small spaces in general. It made me shake and make me want the reapings to hurry up and allow me to volunteer so that I could get out of this cage soon.
"Hello District Two!" Our escort shouted happily into the microphone, allowing her voice to be heard to all. "Welcome to the tenth quarter quell and may the odds be over in your favor!"
Yes yes, hurry up, I want to get out of this cage. "Now, as you all know, the reading of the card was kept a secret from all of you, and I assure you, these cages have a part to play in this as well as Panem's skyrocketing population." Shut up and draw a card! I hate it in here and I want this done before someone else can volunteer before me. If I didn't get to volunteer, all my plans would fall apart in a second. "Now without further ado, let's draw from the reaping bowls."
Finally!
"I volunteer!" I shouted, wanting to get out of the cage and to make the deal with my mother active.
"Fourteen!" The escort shouted anyway. I then heard screaming come from behind me. I looked back and saw the peacekeepers pull out machetes and start stabbing the girls in the fourteen year old cage.
The peacekeepers hesitated, but then one by one, the young girls inside fell down dead with red stains on their neck, chest, or head. They kept on stabbing until there was nobody left alive in the cage.
What the fuck was that? Why were they stabbing them? Why the fuck would the Capitol do something like that? Our lives really meant nothing to the Capitol unless we had something to offer them, and even then we were disposable.
I held the dog tags around my neck tightly thinking about how I wanted the Capitol out of my life once and for all. "I believe we had a volunteer." Our escort said to us, still with that stupid cheerful voice of hers. People in our district just got killed in front of her, and she just carries on like normal? Fuck her! "Someone bring her up."
A peacekeeper unlocked my cage and I quickly got out of there. Not too quickly though, I didn't want the Capitol to think that I was some sort of wuss that was scared of closed spaces.
I confidently walked up the stage, or at least tried to look confident as I walked, until I got onto the stage. "What's your name dear?" Our escort asked in her happy voice. It made me want to punch her in the face and stomp on her face. But I held it in, I wouldn't be able to get the Capitol to like me if I threw a fit.
"Victory Valentine." I told her, like I'd rather be no where else but here. And that was half true, I wanted to be here, but at the same time, I didn't. "Take a hint from my name, I'm going to come back victorious."
"I'm sure you will Victory." The escort happily told me before she walked over to the boy's reaping bowl.
I looked over to my father, who didn't even try to make eye contact with me, even though he was only ten feet away or so. I couldn't blame him either, as the head peacekeeper, he wasn't supposed to have kids, or a wife. But everyone in the district kept the Capitol in the dark about that. If there's one thing that District Two is good for it's loyalty, everyone stuck together. My mother though, that was something else completely.
A guy shouted
"I volunteer!" Before a peacekeeper unlocked the seventeen year old cage and escorted the boy to the stage.
As he got closer, I recognized him and remembered some of the things I heard about him.
"What's your name dear?" Our escort asked him.
"Jeremiah Sentris." He answered.
Standing at six foot two, with very short brown hair, blue eyes, freckles on his cheeks all on light brown skin and a muscular body, I could tell that he was going to be a serious competitor. And from what people have said about him, he's as strong, if not stronger, then he looks. Though really, he'd have no chance against me. I could easily throw a knife right between his eyes before he even knew what I was up to.
He may of killed people, but that didn't mean shit to me. I could kill people too, but so could everyone else my age and younger.
Jeremiah Sentris, I'm sorry to say this, but you've come in way over your head. I've got to win, for not only my sake, but for my sister's as well.
Vlad always tried to protect us, and right now, all I have left is Valley, and I just can't stand to see her suffer anymore.
A/N: Well, that's District Two, and nobody's answered my question. Really guys, someone goes on a hiatus and suddenly you stop reading? Last time I ever tell anyone I'm going on a hiatus. (Not really.)
Anyway, this isn't really my best chapter, but that being said, one more district to go before it's Capitol time.