Wate De Vroome, Victor of the 78th Hunger Games, District Six
It's the same dream again. I've nearly had it every night for the past year, ever since I left the Arena. It can't really be called a dream, or even a nightmare, for that matter. For me, it's a collection of my worst memories.
Before I was reaped for the Hunger Games, there were no bad memories to taint my mind. My life was good for a life in District Six. My family wasn't well off, but I was happy. But, my happy life came to an end as soon as my name on a slip was pulled from the bowl.
My mother had begged and cried for me to get off the stage, but I reassured her that I was coming home, that I wouldn't leave her forever. I was determined to see my promise through and through.
The tributes were just normal kids. When I had watched the previous Hunger Games, all of them seemed insane or bloodthirsty, but all of the tributes seemed to have human qualities about them to the point where many of us could laugh and joke with each other. This just made my victory worse to deal with.
The first faces to haunt my memory are the ones of my previous allies. A smart alliance pack. That's what I wanted to form, not knowing that it's fall apart so quickly. The boy from District Five, Alexander Kimbley, sacrificed his life in the bloodbath in an attempt to get us supplies.
That left four of us. Two of the tributes got separated from us, and we spent the night apart. Those two were from District Three: Chase Fuse and Levina Murphie. Chase had killed Levina in her sleep, and the tributes near him took his life as soon as they realized he betrayed her.
That left two of us; Callie Ochre of Nine, and me. Callie was smart for her age. She was so smart that she outsmarted the Gamemakers' magnet trick, which reeled all but two of us into the centre of the Arena. I was one of those who were reeled in, but I survived any attacks. Callie, on the other hand, got an arrow through the head by the male tribute from Twelve.
It was at that point that I began to lose hope. My district partner, Nadia Trask, had been the one to find me, and give me hope again. She agreed to become my ally and we helped each other get far. She was so kind to me, even in the most dangerous moments of the games. Did I fall in love with her? Perhaps. I can't dwell on those feelings any longer.
She was murdered by a Career when the numbers grew small, and in return, I took that Career's life. My first kill: The girl from Four. Fresia Anecdote. Her family glared at me with pure hatred on the Victory Tour, but who can blame them? I'm a cold-blooded murderer.
Soon enough, the numbers dwindled, and it was between me and the girl from Seven. The fight lasted far too long. I wanted to give her a quick death, but she clearly wanted the same thing for me. Eventually, I had to strangle her. Lyra Fox was her name. A feisty and sarcastic girl.
I won't ever forget the fear and pain in her eyes as I locked my fingers around her throat. Same goes with Fresia from Four. She tried to apologize over and over for Nadia's death, but in a moment of pure anger, I took her life.
The last memory's always the worst. I remember seeing all of the tributes in the Training Centre, smiling and laughing in their little allied groups. They were all just kids determined to get home, most probably for important reasons.
What was my reason? I had promised my mother I was coming home. Compared to other tributes, I was a weak little mommy's boy. Why was I crowned Victor?
"Mom!" I roared, sitting upright in my bed with tears forming in my eyes. I felt beads of sweat on my forehead, and I was unable to stop shaking.
"Wate, sweetie? It's okay! I'm here..." my mother ran into the room, and sat down on the bed. She wrapped her arms around my shoulders and cradled me gently, as if I was an infant instead of a seventeen year old.
With shaky breaths, I began to cry. I stopped trying to hold back tears a few months ago. Everyone knew that a Victor's life was full of suffering.
If anything, I was slightly envious of those who died in the Bloodbath. Their deaths were quick with only a moment of pain at the most. On the other hand, I had to live with their memories for as long as I lived, and with the trauma.
My mother seemed over the moon that I came home out of all twenty four tributes, but I wondered if she ever got tired of me calling for her in the middle of the night, and then having to comfort me as I cried.
I took a look at the calendar on the wall. Today marks a year that my life went down in turmoil: Reaping Day. It was another poor child's turn. I can't help but wonder which one of those twenty four will get to experience a Victor's joy.
A/N: Apologies for the dark prologue, and probably confusing. This is kind of like an epilogue to my previous SYOT that got deleted. I already decided on what would happen at the end of the story, but the story got deleted just a few chapters into the Games.
The tribute was Wate De Vroome of Six, who was submitted by nb1998. I hope this prologue piece is a good apology for my inability to finish the last story!
So, as I said: My story was taken down. I'm going to be very careful about submissions this time, so please follow these rules:
-Tributes will only be accepted through PM. Any tributes sent through reviews will be ignored!
-The form is on my profile page for you to fill out. Please fill in everything.
-You can submit as many tributes as you like. If you recommended this to your friends to submit tributes, I'd really appreciate it!
Good luck, and may the odds be ever in your favour! I hope you enjoyed this little prologue!