Disclaimer and note: For whole story – Hunger Games not mine, characters not mine, characterization for some are made up. I'm sure once the movie comes up, we'll find out how each tribute dies (maybe).
This will be a story about each of their last moments, the thoughts running through their head. All the ones who died in the bloodbath at the Cornucopia have very little information on them, so I made it up. No names are given for those where names were not mentioned because I didn't want to correct it in the future if more information appears. Hope you enjoy. :)
Title: The First To Go
District 9 Male
Sixty seconds. Sixty seconds of safety, of knowing for that one minute I am safe, and after that minute I will most likely be dead. I have no delusions. I am not a fighter, I have no hope against the 'careers' no hope against some of the others.
Do I prolong my life? Do I run to the woods or go for the Cornucopia? I can't do anything, frustration a bitter taste in my mouth. Maybe I should just step past this little disc, have my legs blown up. No, my parents will suffer. They will tell them, "You're son was a coward." But I had no choice to refuse.
The gong goes off and I'm running. Maybe I can survive for a little bit, but I am not a forager. My eyes are set on the bright orange backpack, but that girl from 12 is running for it too. Everyone knows her, the one with the near perfect mark, the one her fellow tribute from 12 is in love with. Where is he now? Not with her. Wasn't much in love with her after all, was he?
We fight for the bag, trying to yank it out of each other arms.. and for a moment it's just me and her in this game of survival, and I forget there are twenty two other people. Math was never my strong suit.
There's a sharp sudden pain in my back, and I'm coughing, and something's making its way up my throat bitter and metallic and blood splatters District 12's face. And in a haze, I realize it's mine.
In the end it doesn't matter if District 12 Girl is loved, does it? One of them, or both of them have to die. At least, I love no one here, I will not see their faces in the sky, but they will see mine. Perhaps my parents won't care all that much, but she.. she will. I try to keep the pain from my face, just in case she is watching, but really I'm starting to feel nothing. It's funny.. it's far easier to die than I thought.
There are hurried footsteps, my head pulled up by my hair, cold steel at my throat and