The Perks of The Hunger Games

For the Fan-fiction crossover competition. When Charlie is reaped into the Hunger Games, he really doesn't expect he is going to win. He's quiet, small, and not the bravest, but definitely the most observant. This is his journey through the games. In the style of Stephen Chbosky.


13. The Final Interview

Dear Friend,

I want to go home. That is all I have said to the people around me, all day.

"Are you hungry, Charlie?" Horatia would say, and I would reply.

"No, can I just go home?" Their answer would always be not just yet. Why? I've done everything they want.

I walk the corridors of our apartment in the Capitol, speaking to myself, and searching. Where is Lydia? Where is Aspen? Where is the little boy who saved me, who's name I have found out to be Robin, who comes from District Eleven? Where have they all gone?

Padma dresses me in silence, putting cleverly-designed clothes on me, that hide my skinniness. They try to make me eat, but I don't ever feel like eating anymore. It is too much of a luxury now. I go for my interview, and just say what they like to hear. I'm not scared of the audience, or Caesar anymore, I have already lost all of my dignity in the arena. 

Afterwards, I realize that I have not cried for the longest of times, so I sit in my room, and cry until the morning light seeps through my window. I look in the mirror, and still don't see me. I am a thin, pale, fearless, and extremely deadly boy, not the friendly, happy, positive boy I was. I am almost scared to let Sam see the new me. As I stare into my own eyes in the mirror, I see something.

Every year the victors would come home, happy and smiling, but with the same, distressed look in their eyes, that make you want to crack. It's like a deer caught in the path of a hunter, with the instinct to run, run as fast as you can and never come back, because this world is so scary and horrible now. That look is in my eyes, and it wasn't there to start with. I am a wreck.

Tomorrow I am going home, and I'm so relieved, but so scared too. My life will never ever be the same again. I guess I will get that house, with a telephone, and ten rooms, with flower pots and an open fire. But I have decided I would like Sam and Patrick to come and live in it with me, because then at least I can fool myself that everything is OK, which it normally is with them two around.

I just know that it isn't OK for me anymore.

Love always,


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