District 6- Bloom -15-girl
This train is super awesome! And I totally can't believe I'm actually going to the Capitol! That's been my dream since, like, forever! They ate the fashion rulers of the world! I've tried to copy their styles, but the best I can do is wear clothes that don't look completely ratty, and I used some flowers to make some pink dye to use in my hair. It actually looks pretty good!
The other up side to my being in the Hunger Games is my district partner. It's Semmo! I can't believe my luck! I mean, it's bad, but it's also good because maybe I can get to know him! I already love him with every fiber of my being, so all I have to do is get him to realize his feelings for me.
I'm trying to focus on those things instead of the games themselves. I know I have a chance of winning, everyone does, but I stand a much larger chance of losing.
I flip over on the smooth blankets on my bed and turn off the tv that I wasn't watching anyway. It was playing reruns of the reaping but I'm not really interested. I'll see all of those people on person soon enough.
The escort, I believe his name was Trinnel or something like that, knocks on the door calling "Come now deary, it's time for dinner!" his girly voice trills out. You know, I do love all things Capitol, but this man is starting to grate on my nerves.
Jumping off the bed (It's soooo soft!!!), I rush for the door. I don't want to miss a second with Semmo. When I get to the table he's already there, along with the three victors. I quickly sit down as close to my Semmo as I can. He's so dreamy. His hair is black like a raven's feathers, and his eyes are deep and piercing and serious. He's as strong as any of those stupid careers.
I almost squeal as a romantic tragedy between me and Semmo plays through my head. Some rotten career will get me, and I'll die in his arms, proclaiming my everlasting love. Then, he'll go after my killer and once that's done he'll kill himself in grief!
The first two victors here were before my time but the third was the guy who won the 53rd games. That was my first time in the reaping. I was twelve. I can't remember the exact happenings of his games (I like the Capitol but I don't like the Games any more than any other (sane) District girl would) but I think it was that snowy one. He won by a fluke, nothing more. It was that big guy with the sword that should've won. But he died. They then found Riben (I'm pretty sure that is his name) almost dead underneath the snow, and as the last surviving tribute, he won the game. Now he looks like a sad, shriveled piece of yellowed flesh. He looks horrible! It's sad really. All the wealth he could ever want and this is how he ends up. It's really sad. I kind of want to talk to him, but it kind of makes me feel squeamish.
"Semmo! Isn't this great?" I say as the first plate of food arrives. "You and me together like this? It's like a dream!"
"That's the spirit!" Trinnel chirps happily. I suppress a shudder.
"Tch." is all Semmo says.
I turn to Riben. He's only a little older than me. Maybe he could have something interesting to say? "So...um..." what to say, what to say, "Uh, how are you."
He turns his dull eyes in my direction and I'm struck by how empty, and pained they look. "I'm..." he pauses, seeming somewhat unsure of what to say. "alive." he finishes, and goes back to poking at his food. Well this looks to be a dull meal.
I'm watching the last bit of the reaping reruns. District 11 is wrapping up. It's a little girl and a boy with black hair cut into a bowl like pattern. He also has strangely big eyebrows...
The screen then flashes to District 12, a dreary looking place with dreary looking people. I feel sorry for them, but not near as sorry as I feel for myself. I am in the Games, the Hunger Games. I hate being hungry as it is! I'll eat practically anything I can get my hands on. But in the Games it's different. The stupid game makers would probably try and poison me or something. Finding food in a place like that would be hard enough without having a lot of scary people trying to kill me.
By the time I start paying attention again I see that they've already called the boy from 12, a little guy with brown hair. I doubt he's as old as me.
I watch as the screen changes to show the man from the Capitol who pulls out a slip of white paper and reads the name. A young woman with jet black hair steps out of the eighteen-year-old's section, and slowly walks towards the front with that same shocked look I ow I had on when my name was called.
Suddenly, a commotion starts from the sidelines. A man with equally black hair darts past the peacekeepers and towards the woman, screaming "You can't take her!" He looks like he planned to rip apart any peacekeeper who tried to get in his way. But, a few peacekeepers grabbed him, and all he could do was reach towards her as she was prodded forward, keeping her face turned in his direction. By the time she's on the stage they're both crying and he's being dragged away.
It's only a few short seconds after that the program finishes and I turn off the tv. That's when I notice I'm crying now. I wonder if they're still crying too. But I'm not sure if I'm having sympathy pains, or if maybe I'm crying for myself and for my family. I won't bother lying to myself. I'm probably going to die before the first day ends.
I walk over to the door and make my way to the dinning car. The other tribute, a girl named Caynie, is already there. So is the escort and one of the past victors. He has blond hair and sad looking eyes, im also guessing he's in his twenties. I wonder where the other victors are. I don't miss them. They look horrible. This guy looks better than I would expect from a victor, at least comparing him to the others.
"Oh hello Coh! I'm glad you joined us! I don't believe you've been introduced to Shiran Kirkland, victor of the 48th games." the Capitol lady says, smiling with her big fake teeth.
"Hey, it's nice to meet you!" I say before diving into the first plate of food. It's so good, better than anything they have back in 5. And there's so much of it too!
Shiran looks at me, sighs, then nods and smiles. "Hi."
He doesn't think I'll live either. I sigh slightly. I'll just try to enjoy my last few days before I die.
Gosh, the food here is good! I rub my hand over my distended belly and burp loudly, getting an ugly look from the weirdo from the Capitol. Heheh. It's great. One of the two victors here with us (the young guy, not the old woman) is seriously cool. He swallowed down a giant pile of hamburgers! There were probably twenty in it! I think he said his name is Amer, and he looks like he's in his early thirties.
I don't want to kill anyone, but I'm determined that I won't lose! Ill be just like him. This may be my best chance to prove myself anyway. I'm an orphan, and as some people say, a troublemaker. My parents died when I was born. I don't even know who they were. All I have is a picture of them, but I consider myself lucky to have that much. I have my mothers eye shape, but the rest of me looks like my father, from my blue eyes and blond hair, to my broad shoulders. I ditched the orphanage by the time I was eight.
Surviving has been hard, but I think it was probably good training for the games. I can survive on little or no food, and I'm used to being alone, and having no shelter. I've lived off of my muscle for most of my life, and I've been in plenty of fights. I don't want to kill anyone, but if anyone tries to kill me, I won't hesitate.
I do feel sorry for my partner though. Her name is Aila, I knew this before the reaping. She works-or worked I guess- at a noodle shop. Her and her father are really sweet people. They used to give me food when I was really down. It wasn't much but they we poor, and I appreciate it a lot. I'll do my best to protect her during the games. I owe them that much. And if I don't win, I want her to win.
It looks like there are quite a few tributes that we need to keep an eye on. Aside from the careers there is a boy with a frightening demeanor and long black hair from 3, a boy with black hair and eyes from 6, a boy with long brown hair and pale eyes from 7, both tributes from 9 (the boy looks kind of small but something about him triggers a warning sign in my instincts), The blond boy from 10, the strange boy from 11, and maybe the girl from 12. After seeing them in person I'm hoping to narrow down the list, but I won't count on it.
We, myself and Rang, are sitting in what looks like a lounge. We are already discussing our strategy. I will do anything to protect Rang, and I know he will do the same for me. I don't know why we should bother though. Only one of us can escape, and there's no way I'll live without him.
I love Rang, and he loves me. I would do anything to help him. I've even sold my body and dyed my hair so I can buy him the medicine he needs. Rang has a disease that eats away at his body, or more specifically, his organs. He has had multiple surgeries, but they are pointless. He will die, there is no doubt. But for now, it slows the disease.
"Kach, are you listening?" his deep voice floats into my train of thought and grabs my attention.
"Yes. I don't think we should try to get any more allies. We will be fine on our own, and it's not worth risking betrayal."
"I agree... Are you sure you're strong enough to fight off any attackers if I have an attack?" Rang has times where the disease becomes stronger in certain areas temporarily, almost paralyzing him with pain. When he isn't having an attack he is a brilliant fighter.
"I'm sure," I say gently, and reach over to him and place my hand on top of his.
At that moment, the door slides open and one of the past victors, a woman named Veta, walks in. She freezes and stares when her eyes land on our hands.
I go to take mine hand off of his when she comes over to us. "No, don't," she says quietly. "Don't waste the little time you have left together." Her eyes seem to be trying to tell me something, trying to see into me, and determine something. What that something is, I don't know.
Rang suddenly starts coughing, his entire body shaking with each cough. I hope he's not having an attack. Without wasting a second, I jump to his side and put one hand on his shoulder, somewhat holding him up, and rubbing his back with the other. "Be careful! I won't let you die, not here and not in the arena."
After a few minutes the coughing dies down and he looks at me, smiling gently. "I won't let you die either Kach," he takes my hand "I'll get you through this, I promise."
We look into each other's eyes. I can't tell him that I refuse to live without him. I want him to be happy. But what can I do? I know it would make him happy to die knowing that I'll live on, but I don't think I could live without him, not for myself, and not for him.
That's when I hear a distinct sniffle come from our district victor. She had turned away from us, toward the window, but I can still see the lone tear sliding down the woman's face. I've noticed that the victors I occasionally see wandering around back in District 8 look miserable. I don't want to end up like them, and I don't want Rang to either. But, it's like them; remembered and miserable, wishing they were dead, or like the other tributes; dead and forgotten, unimportant and useless. Why did we have to be reaped?