Author: jakey121 PM
The number thirteen has always been regarded as unlucky, and this year is the 13th Hunger Games. Lives will be lost, blood will be spilt and innocent children will die ... all in the name of entertainment. This is a 24 author collaboration, 23 of us will leave with nothing but the distant memory of our beloved tribute, and one will depart with their tribute as Victor! DISCONTINUEDRated: Fiction T - English - Tragedy/Adventure - Chapters: 35 - Words: 155,825 - Reviews: 423 - Favs: 25 - Follows: 28 - Updated: 01-28-13 - Published: 07-17-12 - Status: Complete - id: 8330168
|A+ A- Full 3/4 1/2 Expand Tighten|
Silver Hartford, District One Female
Day Eight Evening
Despite this zone's habitual noises, which are usually from savage muttations the Capitol developed, it is precariously tranquil. The utter silence is soothing and assuaging. We are all appeased by self-indulgences; Zeo is oscillating his head nonchalantly, Fir is gazing in awe at the quality of his axe, and I am braiding my hair attentively. Compared to previous days, this placidness is factitious. Although the calm before the storm is foreboding, I shall relish the tranquillity there is — that is until the Gamemakers decide to induce a conundrum again.
I hear Zeo inhale, and then exhale. From the corner of my eye, I notice him stroking his throat and then open his mouth.
"Guess what day it is?" He purrs in a flamboyant tone.
I press my palm against my forehead and begin shaking my head. Is singing necessary right now?
"It's Fir-day," he rolls his tongue with the letter 'r'. "Fir-day!"
"What is Fir-day?" I ask, attempting to hold back laughter.
"Is he serious?" Fir mumbles, sounding exasperated by Zeo's voice.
He points to Fir, "It's a day to admire Fir! Now sing with me, Silver!"
"No, no, it's okay. You have this under control," I bite my lip, still attempting to hold back laughter.
"Suit yourself," he says, still in a flamboyant tone. "It's Fir-day, Fir-day, gotta' admire Fir on Fir-day!"
Fir grabs ahold of my arm, "This is driving me insane. You need to tell him to be quiet."
I turn towards Zeo who is wiggling his fingers in a steady motion, "Zeo. The joke's over; be quiet now."
He ignores me and continues to sing. I slide the knife out of my boot and hold it upwards toward the light. The light reflects off of the blade, directly into Zeo's eyes. He covers his eyes and begins choking on his own saliva.
"I said be quiet, Zeo," I slip the knife back into my boot.
He continues to mouth the words of his 'creative' song.
I lick my lips and notice they're dry; indicating that I am dehydrated. I get a canteen from my backpack and begin to purposely slurp the water out of it.
The games have taken their toll on us emotionally and physically. The food that was supplied at the Cornucopia will suffice, but it's nothing like the food back in the Capitol, or even District 1 for that matter. I haven't had a good-night's sleep in a while either, since I constantly have my guard up. You never know when a muttation could come, or even another tribute. We have gotten into a few diatribes, which results in me being the more mature person in the group and breaking it up.
The games have also taken their toll on the tributes, especially this alliance. We are down to only Zeo, Fir, and me. But, in total, there are eight of us left; me, Zeo, Fir, the creep from District 3, the weakling from District 5, my beloved Rae, and the peasants from District 10.
The Careers – which consist of Zeo, Fir, and me – are evidently the most robust left in this competition. Zeo and I have been trained, and ironically, are both relatives of past victors. I deem myself much more exceptional than Zeo, simply because, well, I'm me. Zeo, on the other hand, isn't me; he's not as strong, intelligent, and cunning as me. Breaking away from him will be the challenging part for me. Even though I'm not too fond of his presence, he still is from my District, and I do feel obligated to at least show some compassion towards him.
Then we have the female from District 3, Neon. Her name's ironic, isn't it? Neon lights are usually bright and ostentatious. She, on the other hand, is basically the opposite; she's timorous, gawky, and peculiar, to say the least. I should have killed her in the Bloodbath if I was aware she would make it this far. What could she do, that I can't do better? The answer's nothing. So do enlighten me with the reason why she's still alive? Was it her intelligence that got her this far? Or her 'observant' perspective? She'll die soon enough, and that's all that matters. Although, I do prefer having her survive than that pathetic 'male' from her District – what was his name? Jimmy? Jake? Pathetic either way. Let's quit this childish game of Hide-and-seek, Neon. Olly, olly, oxen free.
Alyssa Wright in the final eight, who would have ever guessed that? Not me, that's for sure. Just another one of those tributes that was lucky enough to make it out of the Bloodbath. Ever since that girl, Kristina, has been crowned victor, District 5 hasn't produced anymore, and I will make sure to keep that 'legacy' going. I might as well check her off of the list of who is competition; I presume her demise will occur in the next day or two. She's just wasting time by attempting to her save her pitiful life from the inevitable outcome – death.
Fir Hertwig; the Career-like asset of this alliance. It's always good to have diversity in an alliance, even if he's from an Outer-District. Well, that is, until we must depart from one another. He is a tad handsome, but I cannot allow myself to be concerned with a 15 year old from District 7. He has been acting weird lately, not just towards a single person, but towards the whole alliance. I don't think too much of it because then that will make me seem weak; if I feel that he will betray us, I will be much more attentive with everything. I must abide with my nonchalant, Career-like personality until I win these games. Fir will certainly be the tribute I will regret losing the most; not Zeo, Kaya, or even Talon.
Rae, Rae, Rae. Silly Rae; actually thinking you could receive a training score of 10, and then actually win these games? You made my alliance look like a bunch of weaklings, and that's Neon's and Alyssa's job to look like weaklings, not ours. Just thinking about you makes my blood pressure rise. You do realize why your parents abandoned you, right? You were repulsive, meaningless, and pesky. I hope you keep that in mind when I'm removing the spear from your dead body. Prior to my victory, I will personally kill you, and then make sure to keep a piece of your hair. After I win, I will return home with the last remaining part of your piteous body, and it will be exploited in front of District 1, and then burned, just to reassure you that crossing paths with me was a big mistake.
Then there are the peasants; Peasant 1, Erina, and Peasant 2, Alexander. How did they even make it past the first 5 minutes of the games? You sordid, indigent, and hideous souls. Don't you have livestock to tend to? You shouldn't be wasting your time attempting to actually win these games; that's a Career's responsibility. You would make everything so much easier for me if you would just consume some Tracker Jacker venom. District 10 will most certainly be aware of my name after their tributes die; just because they're existence bothers me so much, I will make sure to have my future tributes kill the tributes from District 10 immediately. So mentors, if you're watching these games, you better devise new ideas to help your tributes avoid District 1's wrath. The two of you are lucky, though, because you aren't number one or two on the 'Silver must kill list'.
The Career alliance has faced some casualties, such as Oceava, but more importantly Kaya and Talon.
Kaya Andora, or 'Scorch' in my eyes. Her nickname 'Scorch' is self-evident; she enjoys fire and anything relevant to fire. I will also remember your name, Kaya. I truly thought you would do better than that, simply because of your training score and your pyromanic mentality. Unfortunately, she brought it upon herself, though. She just had to stop and attempt to set the mutts on fire, didn't she? It was nice having her in the alliance, but everything happens for a reason.
Then we have Talon, who was labeled as the 'Caveman'. I truly admire my own creativity. I mean, who else would have thought of such nicknames? On another note, the 'Caveman' was killed by Rae. Now that's two Careers, Rae. That's two too many that should have died by the hands of you. You're basically asking for it – for me to kill you personally, that is.
I mean, I knew Kaya and Talon wouldn't last that long, but I thought they would make it further than Zeo. Zeo has been really getting on my nerves lately, to be honest. I have been falling asleep pondering on the ways I could skin his pretty face.
The Careers have been in this laboratory for a few days, and it's becoming tedious. We haven't found too many tributes; none that have had an enjoyable demise to witness, anyway.
We come across a room, and I decide it's time to rest for the night.
I point to the room, "We will sleep here. It's getting late, anyway, and there's not much more we can do here."
The three of us walk in, but there's nowhere really to sleep. It's not the biggest room, but it will work for the night. Tomorrow, we will find another place to sleep, I guess. Also, the lights are dim in the room, but everything is still visible.
Zeo sits down on a medical table, and Fir searches through the lockers behind it.
"Find anything?" I asked.
Fir continues searching through the lockers, ignoring my question completely.
"Find anything?" I repeat, adding emphasis on my words.
"Speak up," Zeo snaps.
"Clean the shit out of your ears. I said no," Fir declares.
Zeo flips his hair in disgust, "Excuse me? You have the nerve-"
"Shut it you abominable dolts," I interrupt, "Now is not the time for an argument."
Zeo makes a face behind and then laughs to himself, "Whatever. He's not worth my time."
He's not worth your time? Then who is, Zeo, who is. Your fans? Are they worth your time? They won't even care about you after your death. You will just join the list of the other District 1 tributes that have also perished in these games.
"What's your problem?" I tilt my head back, and lean it against the wall behind me.
"Well-" he begins, but I cut him off.
"It was rhetorical. I couldn't care less about your problems."
Zeo narrows his eyes and moves his hand in an impolite gesticulation. Fir rolls his shoulders and continues looking through the lockers.
I lean my spear against the wall and look for somewhere to sit. There is a metal chair in the corner, but when I sit down, I instantly get the chills. The chair's freezing, so I sit on my sleeping bag, but it doesn't help much.
Minutes go by with seldom conversation. I grab the night-goggles in my backpack and put them on. I lean my head back, and look at everything in the room. Of course, you have to be in the dark to see with these, so the light glares on them, blinding my vision temporarily.
When I take my goggles off, I see Fir lift up the war axe he's been using, angling it for a position to strike Zeo's back. I hold out my hand, and Fir scowls at my gesture.
Zeo narrows his eyes, "What?"
Why should I help him? I'm glad someone is finally going to do something. It's not my fault I feel pity for him; if I kill him, his family will despise my family, but on the other hand, if he dies now, that's one less person in this competition. I take the canteen out of my backpack and roll it to Zeo.
"Do you need any?" I say, grinning.
He bends down to get it, making his back even more vulnerable. I turn my head to the side and grab my belongings. The sound of Fir's axe embedding itself in Zeo's back makes me cringe. Zeo shrieks and grabs his quarter-staff.
"You little shit!" He screeches, desperately swinging behind him, attempting to hit Fir.
Fir promptly yanks the axe out of Zeo's back and grabs a backpack. He swiftly runs out of the room, leaving me and Zeo alone. Zeo feebly stands up, and the two of us make eye contact, probably for the last time.
I wink, "Better you than me."
"It could be both of us," he raises his quarter-staff above my head. "After I take care of Fir, you're next, princess."
"Is that a threat or a promise?"
"Go to hell, Silver," Zeo manages to spit out, while coughing up some blood.
"Just as long as you won't be there, Zeo," I pucker my lips and shimmy my shoulders.
"You have to take me to dinner first," I say flirtatiously, obviously angering him even more.
"Watch yourself," he mumbles, wrapping his arms around his lower stomach.
"What are you going to do me, Zeo? Serenade me to death? I'll give you a few minutes to think of a song," I roll my eyes, and wave my hand, gesturing it's time for him to go.
"How creative, Silver. I thought you could have come up with something much wittier," Zeo grabs the door knob, attempting to keep his body standing straight.
"Does it matter? The longer you stay here, the more blood you're losing."
He shakes his head, "I'll be back, don't you worry."
"It was nice meeting you, Zeo. It truly was quite the experience. But when I return home, I'll let your fans know you died an admirable death," I sneer in a sarcastic tone.
He looks down to his feet, to see himself standing in a pool of blood. He turns his back and begins to chase Fir down the hallway. I hear him shout several curses, and I even think I hear Fir laughing.
"Toodaloo! I will be waiting for our battle, Zeo!" I jape, waving at them.
I saunter out of the room and proceed down the hallway opposite of where they went. There's a room, not too big, but it will suffice for the night. I slide the knife out of my boot and begin smashing the door knob with the handle of it. The door knob falls off, and I slip into the room, shutting the door behind me. I sit down, and lean against a locker.
Beep! Beep! Beep!
Could that be a sponsor gift?
Beep! Beep! Beep!
The beeping becomes louder and louder, and then the sound of metal dropping against the floor rings through the whole hallway. I slide myself over to the door, to see a metal container attached to a parachute. I reach my hand out of the room and grab it, trying not to reveal my location.
I open the container, to see a note and something wrapped in cloth. When the note is revealed, my eyes go directly to the signature on the bottom; it's Glitter.
You missed Blue's 1st birthday and his first word. But, when you return home I guess we can celebrate it again.
P.S. His first word was 'Silver'.
I remove the cloth, to find a picture frame, containing a picture of my family and Glitter's family. This was taken after Glitter's victory. I laugh at my expression; my eyes are staring daggers at Glitter's head. Why was I so ungrateful? Something wonderful happened to my family, and I reacted by deterring Glitter.
Blue – Glitter's brother and my cousin. I never thought much about him, because if anything did happen to me, he'd wonder where I was. I assume it would be challenging to tell an infant that your cousin won't return because she is dead. Glitter always said that Blue would never volunteer for the games. I wouldn't think he would want to; he has a victor for a sister, and a soon to be victor for a cousin.
I let out a short giggle, reminiscing of the time Glitter and I took Blue to the training center.
From the corner of my eye I notice Blue grabbing a throwing knife from the rack. I smirk, and Glitter scolds me for it.
"What are you laughing at?" She inquires, stomping her foot angrily.
Still laughing, I say, "Nothing."
"When you can't avoid an arrow, don't come complaining to me!" She snaps.
I point my finger at Blue and Glitter shoots me a glare.
"He could have died! Silver, tell me next time!"
She grabs the knife from Blue's hand, and wiggles a finger at him. Blue attaches himself to her leg, and she picks him up and then places him on the chair next to me. He sticks out his tongue, and makes a silly noise. I rub my hand through his hair and give him the bracelet I was wearing.
"See? He's starting at young age," I banter.
"He will never be a part of these horrid games," she says reassuringly. "Never."
"Why? You could make the Dasher family go down in history for having sibling victors."
Her face goes emotionless. "It's not always about impressing someone, Silver .Why should I care what Panem thinks, anyway?
I've done enough for them by winning."
I bite my lip, attempting to think of something to retort back.
"Now, back to training…"
I clutch the picture frame in my hands, and place it against my chest. I close my eyes, attempting to fall asleep, but my thoughts are preventing any rest.
Remind me again why you volunteered, Silver?
Solely because of arrogance, ingratitude, and self-pity.
Or was it to prove yourself worthy of Glitter's admiration?
At first it was, but…
No buts, Silver. Do whatever it takes to return home.
Then what? Where will I go from there?
What would you do if you didn't volunteer?
Live under Glitter's shadow.
So, you don't care for these games anymore? If not, commit suicide, then?
I do. I truly do, but…
You ruined another girl's chances of volunteering; who could have also been the victor. You're a disgrace, Silver.
I jolt up, and lean my head against my hands. The tears are now streaming down my face and a few droplets place themselves on the jumpsuit. I grab my backpack, and emphatically throw the picture frame into it.
I wipe my face, and realize something; the Capitol can see me right now. This is not what a District 1 tribute should look like.
I grab the backpack and the neighboring spear, and proceed back into the hallway. I can't fall asleep, anyway, because of all of these thoughts in my mind.
I wander through the hallways, randomly making right and left turns. I should walk more circumspectly now, though. I am on my own, with no alliance. I guess that's beneficial; now I don't have to worry about any betrayal, from either Fir or Zeo.
I wonder how Zeo's injury is doing. The injury from Fir's axe looked fatal. Perhaps I'll run into them somewhere in the laboratory, and then I'll finish one of them off.
I hold the ring on my hand up to the light; it truly is a fine piece of craftsmanship. It's a wonderful though to know that Glitter trusted me with the ring she received after her victor. It was from the President, so obviously it's important.
I poke each window I pass with my spear out of utter boredom. Can't something exciting happen? I have to redeem myself to the Capitol after my emotional outburst.
I hear the screeching of Zeo's pesky voice again, but I presume they are on the floor above me. The sounds are muffled, but his pitched voice travels through the floor. Why is he still chasing after Fir? You're injured, what do you expect to do?
I descend a flight of stairs, hoping to see someone at the bottom. I near the bottom and lower my head, attempting to get a better view without revealing myself. I see a shadow that looks to be the figure of someone. I might as well go check it out, nothing else is happening.
I slip the spear back into my backpack and equip myself with the knife from my boot. I tread closer and closer to the shadow, and begin to taunt whoever is there.
"Who's this? Are you one of the peasants from 10?" I jeer, but there is no response. "Or the creep from District 3?"
I arrive at the shadow, and begin slashing in front of me. I look on the blade, and to my astonishment, there is no blood. The shadow was merely a chair with a lab coat entangled throughout it. I crumple the lab coat into a ball and step on it a few times. The lab coat now has a layer of dirt from my boot on it, and I can't help myself but attack it even more. I get on my knees and begin slashing at it, making holes in it.
"Of course. Zeo, Fir-" Cringing, I turn around to silence.
I forgot that the alliance is over. I'm glad it wasn't me who got attacked, though. Good for Fir; finally showing what he is capable of. I'm sure his District is proud of him at this moment, for making it this far. District 7 won the 1st Hunger Games, which might have seemed promising for District 7. They probably thought they could produce more than one victor, but unfortunately, he has been the only one.
I hear a squawk, and turn around to see a black and crested bird hovering above me. It's a jabberjay; mutts that were created by the Capitol to spy on the rebels during the Dark Days.
I point my spear at it, and it twitches its head back and forth. It's big, black eyes stare directly into mine. I grunt, and it flaps its wings.
"Arrogance can be a big problem," the jabberyjay chirps.
"Glitter," I mumble, remembering the night of the interviews.
"Volunteering was a big mistake," the jabberyjay chirps again.
"Shut up!" I scream and begin sprinting down the hallway.
"I hate what you've become, Silver."
What? It only mimics what others have said. Has Glitter really said that? It can't be true… It can't be.
I stop amidst of my sprinting and turn around. I raise the spear and quickly launch it at the bird. It penetrates the bird's stomach, ultimately killing it. It squawks one last time, and it falls to the ground, making a 'thud' sound that echoes throughout the hallway. One of the feathers lands near my feet, and I pick it up. The feather is soft and has a wondrous texture.
I feel nauseous now, and I'm knocking into things here and there. Halfway through the hallway, my body is evidently abating in energy and I feel myself becoming very weary. There is a small closet, where I situate myself in. There's a single light that barely lights up the room and a small window in it. In attempts to shake out the previous events of tonight, the thoughts still recollect in my mind. I attempt to rest my eyes, but then I hear a knock on the window above me.
"Oh please, Silver. Grow up," I hear an unknown and puerile voice.
I angle my head upwards and notice who it is – Rae. Really, Panem? Now is when you allow for the two of us to meet? I push myself up and press my face against the glass.
"Once I find a way in there, you're dead," Rae begins banging on the window with a knife.
I step backwards and poke the glass, "Good luck, Rae. It seems the glass is impenetrable."
She ignores my remark, "Where's your alliance?"
"That's classified information. Now why don't you run off?" I kiss the window, leaving a mark in the shape of my lips.
"You're asking for it, you know? You're lucky I'm not in there."
"Mhm; now let me sleep. You're wasting my precious time," I flip my hair and turn around.
I sit down, but she keeps banging on the window with her knife. She attempts to carve a hole in it with the blade of the knife, but it doesn't even make a scratch. I shoo Rae away by waving my hand, and she scowls at my gesture.
She hesitantly backs up, "I'll make a guest appearance in your nightmares tonight, Silver."
With that, she disappears. I cautiously look up one more time to make sure she's gone. The room on the opposite side of the window is pitch black, with nobody in it.
My life wasn't supposed to turn out like this, was it? I should have never volunteered. I could have become a fashion designer, a perfumer, or even a head trainer at the training academy. My family, who had probably stopped watching the games a few minutes ago, is probably reserving an area to bury my body already.
When Zeo said 'princess', I can't help but think that everyone deems me as just that, and nothing more. At this moment, though, being a princess does sound excellent. Servants, who will do everything I order them to, and jesters, who will incessantly entertain me. Why can't my life have a happy ending like all of those fairy tales?
I slump against the wall, attempting to hold back my tears. Today just isn't my day, now is it? I can't make a fool of myself in front of the Capitol again. I throw my backpack against the door and lay down on the cold, cement floor. I curl up in a ball and close my eyes. As I begin to drift off, I unintentionally whisper something out,
"I kind of hate me too."