Okay, you've read my other series for the Hunger games Catoniss. Yet this is my own spin. I have yet to find a story like this and I PROMISE YOU, this is my own idea. I am not going to give the full summary until you finish reading this chappie (: I hope you like the Prologue and enjoy this story (:
Now, if you like it, I'll continue! Enough said! Okay, stop mumbling...
Run. Keep going. Faster and faster; that's all I have to do.
I can hear their screams behind me, loud and shrieking as I jump onto the leaving boat. I hold onto the robe, digging my hands and feet onto the side and cling for dear life. The boat is moving farther and farther from shore, hopefully leaving for good. A guard tries to shoot me from the shore with no success. I smile into my victory and I climb higher and higher.
We sail out; the only noises are the continuous rocking of the waves and loud explosions of gunfire in the backround.
I wake up in the lower level of the boat. Loud crashing is heard up above, mixing in with laughter and reckless footsteps. The generous food supply below kept me going, as long as I hid from the other sailors, who had a large amount of rum. It must be their only way of staying sane on a boat for almost 2 months; the endless waves and seasickness take a toll on your mental stability, making it seem impossible to hold on. Through the small cracks in the wooden ceiling above dull sunlight pours through, signaling another long day on the sea.
I scrounge around to find a half eaten slice of bread, lying near a few goodies of more apples and cold cooked meats. Sniffing the bread and making sure no rats had contact, I take a bite and enjoy the sensations it creates in my mouth. It's slightly stale but very plump and soft inside. It's been quite a while since I've had real food like this. The doughy bread isn't warm but it satisfies my appetite, filling me up halfway. Grabbing one soft apple, I bite into it, letting the juices run down my throat. Can't be picky about these things.
Holding onto the apple sack and bread, I head farther back near the edge and lay down on top the ropes sprawled out from many uses. The firm grip of what I did two weeks ago is still a haze; did I really do that? Did I honestly get away? It feels like a dream, so lucid yet just plain imagination. Gripping to reality, I use the rough ropes' surface to make me look at the facts: I'm safe and away.
I slowly doze off with the thought of freedom in my head.
The cold walls gave me goosebumps on my bare back. They stripped me down and whipped me five times for my treason; something that I'll remember forever: the burning, blood curdling feeling of glass on my skin, the ripping sensation it made when lashed back and forth... and the crackling sound it made when it was poised to strike.
At the time, I was a seventeen-year-old girl locked away in a tower by the king, Cornelius Snow. They didn't kill me, just left me up there for later use. Stenches in the room mixed with blood and dirt, giving off a hellish smell that made me gag. I wished they'd let me go, be free or send me away somewhere. But now, my back stings and I sit on my own blood. I wanted to die; hoping they'd give me a merciful death. But they did not, just walked out of the room and locked it.
I wish they did.
The times men came up and visited me was horrible. Their grubby, ringed fingers explored places too pure and secret; the invasion of their tongues was gross, having left my mouth dirty. I once swore that I'd never marry for the sake of this; I still stick by it. These men were distasteful, going off of lust, passion. Not love. Certainly not love.
But this time was different.
A guard, maybe nineteen, came to visit me. He bore regular clothes, nothing fancy. No rings engulfed his fingers. He was so pure and I wondered why he's come. But something told me to never judge looks: they could always deceive you.
"Hello," he said. I went as far back into the wall as it would let me. The secret loose brick was in my fingers, my hand gripping it tightly. He stepped closer. "What's your name?"
I didn't reply. He was taller than I was, but I could knock him out. The boy takes a step closer and I realize this is my opportunity to escape.
Come on Katniss, I told myself. Do it!
And that's what I did.
Throwing the brick at his head, he falls to the ground unconscious, a knife and keys crashing down with him. I grab his keys and unlock the door, sprinting out as fast as my legs could carry me. Stair after stair I passed, level after level. People's cries for freedom rung through my ears, making me run faster. Flinging myself out the door and hitting the other guard with my brick, I'm running down the large hill, towards the dock.
Taking out my hair-tie, I pull my matted, dirt-covered hair back into a pony-tail, so foreign to my braid-familiar head. It's finally out of my face, making it even easier to run.
The first gunshot rings out. The bullet barely misses my head, making me fly down the steep hill. I hit the bottom with a "thump!" and immediately, I'm up as fast as I fell. The guards are yelling foul things at me, demanding that I give up.
I will NOT give up.
Racing towards the docks, I run out on the wooden, creaky platform. Looking around, I spot a ship that's just leaving the dock. It carries coal from the looks over it, written in large letters, "SS. Twelve." Taking a running start, I leap onto the ship. Clinging to the side, I relax mentally, while I'm physically holding on with all my might.
Hold on, Katniss. Hold on.
The ship leaves farther out and I dare to look back. The guards are trying to shoot me with much prevail, and I smile. A real smile. The ship sails out into the sunset, making me grin at my victory.
I'm on my way to somewhere better.
Climbing through a cannon hole, I sink down against the inner-side of the ship and fall asleep.
Waking up must've been the worst part. My stomach growls loudly and my back aches with a dying passion, having slept on the uncomfortable ropes. But before I move, I listen. What surprises me most is that it's silent.
Walking up the old steps for the first time, I see every sailor staring out at the sea. A few hold glass beer bottles while most have the traditional beer cup. Shock and fear is written on their wrinkled faces in the worst way, signaling this isn't good to say the least. Making my way over, some give me odd looks while others shrug it off. Between a few, a blonde head comes into sight around the browns, blacks, and grays.
One of them that I recognize from the village, Haymitch Abernathy, walks towards me and brings me over to the edge of the boat.
"How'd you get here?" he asks me. "Been a while since I've seen ya." Running a hand through his greasy hair, he downs at least half of the substance in his hand.
I sigh. "Long story." Haymitch points out and I can barely make out a large, spinning dark cloud. The waves whip this way and that, making everything foamy all the way to our boat. It's coming at an irregular speed, charging at the boat with such ferocity that could challenge that of a lion's. I turn to Haymitch with a weird expression, almost like saying, 'tell me what the hell is going on.'
"What's that?" I inquire. Haymitch takes another swig from his rum which I quickly found out, and swallows.
"Donn' know. Looks to me like a hurricane. But others are saying it's something worse."
"Worse how?" He laughs half-heartedly. I scowl at his attempt of making the mood lighter. "Haymitch, worse how?" His eyes stare into my skull, as if questioning where my brain went. I turn my gaze back on the storm, feeling uneasy.
"Can't describe it. But it's probably a bad one, Doncha think?" Swinging his bottle back and forth, Haymitch leaves the edge, forcing me to stare out into the distance between unknown sailors. The ship is dead silent, an unsettling tension in the air. The storm wages on, and in the distance, bits of wood and broken metal are seen. A floating life ring is thrown on board, barely missing on of the crew members. In the distance, I see many things sprawled out over the water.
That's when disaster strikes.
People are screaming, trying to maneuver the boat this way and that. In the end, most realize we're doomed and end up staying on the main ground. My mind races as the crystal clear waters turn a menacing dark gray, almost black. Looking up, the storm has advanced even faster, about a quarter mile away from us. Waves crash against the boat with a loud "BANG!" and sailors fly everywhere, a few overboard in the evil waters. Through the rain pelting us, I see something I thought I'd never see. Horror overcomes every cell in my face, making me run to the other side. Bile forms in the back of my throat and I let it all out on the deck.
A rising wave of about thirty feet high rises above the boat, small droplets forming on my skin from the spray of the ocean's rage. The water is falling in slow motion, as if taunting me to lose everything I had to hold on. Taking my last seconds on the boat, I grab onto the side and grip the wood. Water crashes upon us, knocking the wind out of me with such immense force. I could feel the boat breaking, being ripped apart by the ongoing waves. It sunk after a while, and thankfully, I was on a small piece of wood from the side. I couldn't hear the screams of the sailors behind me over the roar of the wind. Things flew everywhere, making me lose every feel of my surroundings.
But just as I was ready to face it all with a calm face, something grabs my foot. I scream loudly, hoping it was a human instead of some animal hoping to pull me down. Turning back slightly, my suspicions were confirmed: it was a man, Haymitch to be more exact.
"Katniss!" he yells. I look up to see we're in the starting of a storm that stretches for fifty miles minimum. "Hold on!" Haymitch's legs sprawl out in the water, inviting anything to come and tear them off. The storm rages on, making me delirious. After a while, I don't feel my companions hand on my ankle.
"Haymitch?" I yell.
Nothing. No one replies, no one answers, making me feel all alone.
Daring to turn back, I see nothing but the churning of the waves crashing everywhere. Turning around again, I am conscious in time for another large wave to crash into me, making my poor head hit the wet wood.
Closing my eyes, I welcome the feeling of unconsciousness, hoping that the darkness will take me away.
Swaying. That's all I was doing when I woke up. The ferocious storm was done, out in the distance to torture some poor victim. The wooden piece I held onto was in my grasp, slightly broken but still keeping me afloat. Dark blue sky is mixing in with the red and orange colors of the fading sunset, the moon popping out of the opposite horizon as the sun descends, leaving me with the shadows. Everything seems darker, more menacing, giving off a haunting effect. Night settles in and unconsciousness overcomes me again.
Light blinded my vision. It was all I saw, all I felt. The warm rays connected with my skin, letting me relax. I was weak, I knew of that. I couldn't get up, couldn't move. My muscles were sore and stiff, making every move painful. Everything was still dark as I kept my eyes closed.
That's when I realized: something was different.
Beneath my legs wasn't the familiar waves, rocking back and forth. This was different, still and soft. I could feel the water on my toes, but everything else was... dry. Using my last ounce of strength, I open my eyes and look around.
I am on a white beach, the ocean still rocked up from the fierce storm. Palm trees grew farther back, standing in a tall, large mass. Laying back down on my rear side, I try and keep my eyes open. My hearing grow fuzzy, my sight mimicking the same gesture. Every limb on my body seems heavy. My head, my arms, my legs... It hurts to move, to breathe, to even blink.
But it doesn't hurt as much as the fear I get when a shadow crosses my vision. I stay still except for the occasional breath. Hopefully it thinks I'm dead. Getting ready for the gnawing teeth of a dangerous animal, I close my eyes, adrenaline pumping through my veins.
It doesn't come. Behind me, through my fuzzy hearing, I make out running footsteps. Opening my eyes half way, I'm met with blue. It stares back intensely, concern etched into the small green lines that coat the cerulean orbs.
"Who are you?" they say. The voice is deep, worry filling it all the way up. I try to reach my hand up to the person but fail miserably. Thankfully, they grab it for me. A rough, large hand engulfs my small one, holding on tightly.
Opening my eyes largely, I cup their cheek to pull myself up to their ear.
"Katniss," I rasp out before everything goes black.
So, Katniss was caught stealing food for her family and Snow put her in the tower for Men to... "visit her." So she was practically a toy for rich men. The boy, or Gale, came in and was different. She saw the opportunity and hit him in the head with a brick. After a wild chase, she escaped on a boat. The boat was caught in a freak storm, Katniss was lost at sea, then someone found her on a beach.
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