The Hunger Games (A One Direction Fanfiction)

I make my way back to my room. I half expect to lay awake all night fretting, letting in all the emotions that have been strangely absent so far, but when I lie down, I’m out almost as soon as my head hits the pillow.

I’ve always been a surprisingly good sleeper. I wake easily, but I can stay in that twilight place between dreams and reality for as long as I want. In the morning, I choose to stay and try to relive all my happy memories of childhood.

In fact, I don’t even get out of bed until well past noon, when our train arrives at the Capitol. I feel sluggish, and slightly sick to my stomach with fear. This is it. I am now officially a tribute in the Hunger Games.


6. Chapter 6

I concentrate on my feet, mainly not tripping over them, as all twenty-four of us walk across the platform. Thankfully Avery put me in a pair of fairly sturdy, but high-heeled shoes.

We stay standing for the anthem, then take our seats. Paris tells a few jokes to warm up the audience, and then she’s introducing Frazer.

He instantly wins over the crowd. Frazer has always been good at making people like him, and tonight is no exception.

The interview is light and fluffy until Paris asks him why he volunteered. Frazer considers for a moment, then says in a surprisingly soft voice, “I did it for Anya. Her sister.” He gestures back at me, but refuses to meet my eyes. “I promised Anya that I would keep Ina safe.” Then the old, smirking Frazer is back. “Anyway, who would want to miss out on a party like this?”

The audience erupts in a fit of laughter.

 Paris grins and continues to question him, but her voice is being drowned out by the roaring in my ears. Anya had asked Frazer to go in with me? I’m not surprised that I didn’t notice, because I was pretty out of it. Why on earth would she even consider doing that, though? She should know I won’t have a chance at making it out alive, even if I did have Frazer’s help. Even as I ask myself, I know the answer; to protect me and keep me alive for as long as she could. If Frazer and I made it to the end, however, I have no doubt that he would have ended my life, anyway. For a moment, I wish Anya was here with me, so that I could yell at her for even thinking of risking a friend’s life to save me from this hellhole, but then I’m glad that she isn’t, because I know what that would mean.

Suddenly, I feel so alone, it’s like an actual physical ache inside of me. I want to curl up in a ball and cry, but I need to keep my game face on for the cameras. Showing weakness could ruin any chance of my getting sponsored.

The bell dings again, and Frazer walks back to his seat. He winks at me, which doesn’t help my stomach calm down at all. It fills like its full of lead.

Then Paris is calling my name.

I feel wobbly as I walk towards her. Everyone must be able to see my knees shaking, but I remember what Hannah told me about looking confident, and slap a brilliant smile on my face. I must look terrified. I certainly feel terrified.

Paris smiles at me, “Ina, you look very glamorous in that dress.”

I manage to gasp out a shaky word of gratitude and gesture to the part of the stands where the stylists are seate, “Avery is really good at his job.”

The crowd claps politely. Oh god, this is horrible. I’m going to puke, I know it.

Paris smiles again. It’s kind of scary how she manages to show every one of her white, white teeth, even when she isn’t talking, “Is there anyone back in District One than you want to say hello to?”

A lump appears in my throat.

“My sister.” I whisper in my softest tone, but the microphone is still able to pick up my voice and transfer it out over the crowd.

”Is this the mysterious sister we’ve heard so much about?” Paris leans forward eagerly. She seems to sense that this is an emotional topic for me, and wants to exacerbate it.

“Yes. Anya.” somehow just saying her name makes me feel more confident. Suddenly, I know that she is watching me right now, hundreds and hundreds of miles away in District One. Despite the distance, I can almost feel her urging me on, telling me that I can do anything. I stand up a little taller, “She is my best friend in the whole world, and I love her more than anything.”

Paris smiles. “That’s nice. Anyone else? Any other family?”

I mutely shake my head.

“How did you feel about Anya’s actions? Do you wish she had made it in to the Games instead of you?”

“Why would I want that?” I snap, “Of course I’m glad that she is safe at home. She shouldn’t have done anything  in the first place,” my voice drops into a horse whisper. “Our family is broken enough as it is.”

The bell rings before Paris can pry anymore, signaling the end of my time. The walk away from center stage feels much shorter than the one towards it, and I collapse into my chair with a sigh of relief.

It’s Zayn’s turn. I give my head a little shake to clear it, and look over at Frazer, but he is refusing to meet my gaze. He must know how badly his interview has affected me. I feel a surge of icy hot anger swirl through me. That was completely unfair of him to blindside me like that.

I clue back in during District Three, because I want to watch Liam. His female counter part is shaking like a leaf and biting down the urge to cry. Liam is more put together. He gives only monosyllabic answers, and keeps a flat, disdainful expression on his face the whole time.

 “So, what do you think of your competition?” Paris really is grating, with her surgically altered face and freakish teeth.

“What about them?”

“Well, are you worried?”

“Not really.”

“There are some pretty high scores this year…don’t you think one of them might get the better of you? Even though you got a ten?”

I bite down the urge to laugh at Paris's obvious attempts to draw Liam out of his shell.

“They can do what they want. I don’t care.”

That throws her.

“Um…alright. Do you think you might have a harder time than some of the other tributes, because you are the son of the mayor of District Three?”

 “No. I can take of my self.” his formerly emotionless voice takes on a hint of anger.

Something about that doesn’t sit right with me. How did the mayor’s child get reaped? The odds for that happening are so slim. Not for the first time, I consider that the reapings might be rigged. I wonder what the mayor did to make the Capitol mad at him?

Few other tributes seem to really make an impression. Niall, from Four, is snarky and sort of funny, in a way that makes you afraid to get near him, and the girl from Seven, Danielle, is cool and charismatic. The boy from six starts crying, and I remember that they had to pull him out of the arms of his twin brother when he got reaped.

The one who really stands out to me, though, is the boy from Nine, Harry. He has an air about him of complete confidence, and his unreadable green eyes hint that he knows something the rest of us don’t. He is absolutely terrifying. How can I possibly beat someone like that? He is so vindictive and clever, I hardly have a chance.

As the interviews conclude, we stand for the anthem again, and then file back into the Training Center. I eat a ridiculous amount of food, and then retreat to my bedroom. I’m drifting through my last free hours is state of fuzzy shock. I did the same after my father was executed. I guess it’s my way of protecting myself from the rest of the world.

I doze for a while, but worry about tomorrow eventually forces me back into consciousness. I toss and turn for hours, trying to clear my mind. I finally get fed up with staring at the walls in my bedroom and decide to stare at something else.

I expect the living room to be empty this late, but Frazer seems to be suffering the same insomnia as me.

“Hey,” he is sitting on the floor with his knees up to his chest, looking out the window. The Capitol, as torturous as it is being here, is sort of beautiful. I sit next to him, and we observe the neon candy of the city.

We sit side by side like that for a long time before she breaks the silence.

“Are you scared?” something in his voice catches my attention, like he really wants me to not be mad at him for the interview.

It doesn’t occur to me to lie, “Of course I am.”

 “Me too.”

 “What are we going to do? I don’t want to die,” I sound like a child. With a pang, I realize that I am on the verge of bursting into tears.

Frazer gives me a strange look, like he knows that there is nothing that he can say that will make me feel better.

“Ina, I’m sorry for earlier. I just wanted you to know. Your sister really does care about you. You have to realise that this is probably way better than the alternative”

I don’t know what to say to that. It’s true. As much as I wish that I wasn’t reaped, neither I nor my sister would have a good chance at staying alive. This is better, “Yes.”

Frazer smiles, “Good.” he pats the back of my hand. “Ina...”

“Hmm?” his hands are like ice.

“Ina, listen to me.”

“I am.”

“Tomorrow, don’t hang around the Cornucopia. I know that you’re a fast runner. Get in, grab a weapon, and get out, understand?” I open my mouth to protest the idea of running away, but she holds up a hand to stop me, “Just trust me. Run away as fast as you can. Loop around for a couple of hours, then slowly make your way back. I’ll make sure that Eleanor and Zayn stay near so you can find us.”

I want to argue, but part of me really likes the idea of running away from the bloodbath. Its one of the easiest ways to get killed, because everyone is so disoriented, and I’m not the best in hand-to-hand combat, “Okay. I’ll run, but you better wait for me!”

He smiles, happy that I am so compliant, “Good. You should get some sleep. Big day tomorrow, you know.”

I giggle at his crappy imitation of the ridiculous Capitol accent. I do as requested, and surprise my self by sleeping soundly.

In the morning, events move to quickly to process. I am loaded onto a hovercraft. I get injected with my tracker. I am left in the Launch Room with Avery. He doesn’t talk to me, and I’m glad; I think I might puke if I open my mouth.

Avery checks the clothes I am given; a plain black shirt, olive-green cargo pants, good boots, and a matching jacket. She hands Trent to me, and I slip him into my pocket. The weight of the small piece of wood is comforting.

A cool and monotone female voice announces that I have one minute to step onto my plate. My heart stops, then picks up again double time. For the first time, the realization sets in that in less than two minutes, I could be dead. Flat out, heart-stopped, ripped-to-pieces dead.

I feel the smooth piece of metal begin to rise. I don’t think that I have ever been this terrified in my entire life.

I am pushed out into dazzling sunlight, and overhead, I hear the announcer’s voice.

“Ladies and gentlemen, let the Twenty-Sixth Hunger Games begin!”

Join MovellasFind out what all the buzz is about. Join now to start sharing your creativity and passion
Loading ...