Revenge

A Hunger Games fan fiction (I know it's a bit late!) about what happens in the games run by the districts for the capitol children as revenge for the Hunger Games. Please tell me what you think!!!

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5. Me And My Big Mouth

 The meal is supposed to be a luxury but being from the Capitol, I am used to it. It is eaten in an akward, stony silence. Slowly, I push the crispy chicken into the rice and watch, completely unamused as it gets enveloped in white fluff. I can almost taste the tension, feel it clouding the air like smoke. If someone doesn't break this silence I swear I'm going to explode! I hear Petra Marfleet speaking (or it may have been Jade Cliffton): "Well, um... what's been your favourite bit of this... exciting trip so far, dearies?" and immeadiatly got the impression that she was just trying to make us feel better which was why I was kicking myself when I heard my voice speak. " Well at least we're not dead yet." The atmosphere immeadiatly darkened and I could feel Katniss' reproachful eyes boring into me. Me and my big b***** mouth...

 

 It was hours and hours before we heard the trains' breaks screech to an agonising halt and we filed gloomily out into the clammy night air. Our sullen mood seemed to effect the weather as, no sooner had we left the cosy comfort of our appartments, the sky errupted into a million raindrops, glistening sympathetically in the vague evening gloom. I sighed. I didn't even realise Katniss behind me until I feel her boney hand clamp shut painfully on my shoulder and tug me away and I hear her muttering "Come on, squirt.". I was in fact about to retaliate with a vicious kick to her shin when I see her shoot me a quick, amused glance. I immeadiatly see her game.

 

 She must expect me to be just like my grandfather! And she must have no intention of helping me win. Well, two could play at that. Yet I had a better idea, to prove her wrong. If I could give her no reason to hate me she might come on my side and I would stand a chance to get out of this hell hole (or at least get to watch Katniss become extremely frustrated!). She tugs harder and, without even a murmer of annoyance, I follow her watching with pleasure as her brow creased with mild confusion. I am led down a corridor so well lit it is almost blinding. Hearing the trudging of feet behind me I move quicker so the other tributes don't get impatient. I am shoved so hard into my room I lose my footing and stumble over an object left tactfully in the doorway and grimace at the sniggers from the other tributes. But I don't retalitate. There was a long, expectant silence and some steely glares. Nothing happens. "Well," said Katniss (with a slight air of confusion) "Dinner is in forty-five minutes. Don't be late.". I just catch someone's muttered cry "That all you got Snow?" Before the door slams shut in my face.

 

 I am crying so hard I can barely see and as a result, I stumble over the chair leg and fall flat on my face. All I can hear is a muffled, persistant chant and I am about to yell for the person making it to shut up when I realise it is coming from my mouth.

 

I am not like my Grandfather.

I am not like my Grandfather.

I am not like my Grandfather.

 

 I sit up and think. What would President Snow be doing at this moment? Probably just sitting and thinking evil thoughts about Katniss. I remember him once telling me about what he'd do to Katniss if he caught her. I didn't sleep for weeks. So if I mustn't just sit here then maybe I should move around...

 

 I am barely out of the door when I hear a voice: "You alright love?" I look up. No Katniss. In fact I take an instant liking to Petra Marfleet, who was standing painfully on her withered legs just to ask if I was okay (which I obvisously wasn't). "I'm fine. Sorry about dinner." I say, remebering painfully of my harsh comment and the darkened atmosphere. I hear her laugh a throaty laugh. "We haven't had dinner yet darlin'" and with that she hobbled back into her room. I can barely supress my laughter. She'd forgotten! I could almost hear the instructor:

 

 "Now not all of you will die from weapons weilded by other tributes, definately not! Only approximately 55% of you will die if that! 15% will die of poisonous food or drink, 5% from infections and 25% of old age."

 

 Poor old Petra Marfleet.

 

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