Last Chance (Louis Tomlinson Fanfiction)

Louis Tomlinson is a normal fifteen year old boy- well, if normal meant living in the largest human settlement for hundreds of years. The great and powerful Panem.

It's time for The Fifth Annual Hunger Games, the main entertainment the people in the Capitol always look forward to.

Unfortunately it's Louis who's name has been drawn. Not only is he forced to leave behind his family, and his friends, Louis is forced to leave behind his girlfriend, Eleanor, to take part in a bloodthirsty fight to the death between him and twenty-three other tributes.

He says to Eleanor before he leaves, that he will try to win. For her. But things get more difficult when his love for Eleanor and his faith becomes his lifeline, and much, much more.

It's his Last Chance for survival.

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4. The Training (Preparation for death)

The next morning, I am woken far too early by Quinton. He seems to be agitated, and I have a feeling I know why. It is because, immediately after the show last night, today I have to begin my training. My training for the arena, whatever that is. At least today, I will hopefully have some idea on what the arena is.

"Louis. Put on this." Quinton says, his eyes dull. "We want you to match Carrie. It's sort of the rules. We want everyone to know who you are and where you come from." It's a horrible brown jumpsuit that I know will make my behind appear huge.

"You want to draw attention to our bums? Good job Quinton!" I say sarcastically, glowering at the jumpsuit and at my mentor.

Quinton just rolls his eyes. "Breakfast is in ten minutes. Be on time. I need to brief you and Carrie on how to act in the Training Room."

He leaves after he tosses the jumpsuit onto my unmade bed. I sigh as I strip down to my boxers. I throw on the jumpsuit. I put on a pair of sneakers, and tie them up. I stare at myself in the mirror, studying my cool blue eyes, and my angular, jawline, and I think about how unfair this whole thing is, and how the odds are never in my favour. I stand in front of the mirror until Quinton comes back, he's annoyed about something, and I can already tell that I'm about to find out what's bothering him. "Louis, I said breakfast was in ten minutes! That was half an hour ago, and you just succeeded in throwing our timetable back by half an hour. Good job. You'll have to eat breakfast in the elevator." He thrusts me a box and stalks off, closing the door behind him.

I open the box to see two slices of toast with jam and a scraggly old muffin, that obviously Quinton had chosen specifically in an attempt to make me annoyed. Too bad for him, this muffin is way better than the scraps I usually get at home. Home. Oh God. They must have watched the televised opening ceremony- it was mandatory. But I wonder what they were thinking. Did they start crying?

If they hadn't, when the Games truly begin, we'll all be sobbing.

I eat one slice of toast and leave the rest in the box to eat later. To be honest, I'd been put off my food, in the prospect of meeting my competition. I reach the elevator, and Quinton is there, pointedly staring at his watch. "I said eat in the elevator." He scolds. "Oh well. In you go. We're already late, so you'll have missed the beginning speech by one of the junior gamemakers. Don't worry about it. I'll explain it to you over dinner." The elevator doors open on cue, and I step inside.

Again, I am shocked by the velocity at which this moves. I know it is strange, but by the time I reach the training room, I am breathless. The doors open, soundlessly, but even so, as I step out, twenty-three pairs of eyes focus on me. Don't freak. Stay calm. They're just kids who want to tear out my throat. No biggie.

"Um... Hi." I say, immediately feeling stupid. Strangely enough it was exactly like when I was late for school- and the teacher was that junior gamemaker. She acknowledges me with a cold nod, and I stride over to where the group is standing. The other tributes' eyes linger over me for another second before returning their attention to the gamemaker. "As I was saying..." She glares at me. "20% of you will die from dehydration, 10% from infected wounds, 15% of hunger, and 25% from hyperthermia..." I tune her out. Stupidly I know but I wanted to blank out the world for just a bit, not wanting to face the reality of my situation. I begin to listen again when she finishes her little instruction with "Remember, no fighting with the other tributes... You will have plenty of time for that in the arena. There are practicing people at each of the stations. Good luck, and may the odds be ever in your favour!"

And we begin.

I purposefully avoid Carrie, even when she comes over to the poisonous plants section with me. The trainer gives us a test, she'd show us a card with a plant, and we had to say whether it was poisonous or not. Let's just say, although it sounds easy, I barely passed with a score of 69%

Carrie flunked it with a sad score of 29%

At least there's a greater chance of her accidentally eating something poisonous rather than her getting killed by someone in this room. I make a note of that to not team up with her under any circumstances. Mean and heartless, I know, but if I want to have a greater chance of making it home, I'd better stick to solitude, rather than have my so called allies to stab me in the back when I'm not looking.

I leave Carrie to retake the test, and I go over to the spears, and choose the most deadliest one. Before I pick it up, another boy, a much taller, more muscular, boy snatches it from the rack. I feel a stab of anger in my stomach. I don't know what comes over me. "That's my spear." I snap, glaring up at the boy. My eyes are level with his nose. "Oh? Since when did you own a spear? Last time I checked all these weapons were fair game."

I narrow my eyes at him, and turn to the rack, grabbing another spear, and pointing it at the boy.

Almost instantaneously, the spear was knocked from my hand and I was pinned against the wall. It was not the boy, but two of the station hands, who had thrown aside what they were doing, and pinned me and the boy against the wall. "Calm down!" One of them hisses in my ear. The other one is holding the boy back, with great difficulty. "You wait." The boy yells at me, by now everyone in the room is staring. "You wait 7! When we get into the arena, you are dead." I only laugh at him, I laugh at him until I am dragged from the training room. The station hand is still restraining me, all the way until we reach the district 7 floor. He shoves me out of the elevator, and snarls "Watch you back Tomlinson. He'll kill you in a heartbeat." I actually don't think he is mad. I think he is scared for me, which means in the very least I have one person outside the arena who cares.

Quinton is sitting at the dining room table, I go over and sit opposite him. I can't see his face because he's reading a newspaper, but I can see his hands are shaking. His face is probably bright red with anger. I swallow. "So..."

Quinton throws down the newspaper, and behold, there he is, red faced, eyes narrowed and nostrils flaring. He looks rather like a bull- I half expect him to start pawing the ground, ready to charge at me. Instead he just glares at me in an awkward and tense silence. After about a minute, he opens his mouth to speak.

"You. Are. An. Idiot." He's so mad it's almost funny.

"Uhh, sorry?"

"Attacking district one? Not smart. Of all people to attack, you choose a career! You're an absolute moron! I'd hoped I'd be able to get you in with them but no. You've even ruined Carrie's chances of survival." I let him rant, until he dismisses me with a "Order something from the menu in your room. I don't want to have lunch with you. Get out of my sight."

I glare at him as he picks up the newspaper. He pauses, his eyes meeting mine. His cold gaze is reflected back at him in my own eyes. "Go." He orders.

I slink off, muttering profanities under my breath as I go.

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