Death Wishes: a Twilight and Hunger Games Crossover

Bella Swan has bitterly hated Carlisle Cullen for not helping her father when he most needed it, causing the loss of her father. When she is chosen at the Reaping to go into the Hunger Games with Edward Cullen, she sees her chance to exact her revenge. What will happen in the arena?

Edward Cullen is a vampire so he is indifferent when he is chosen because none of the weapons can harm him. What happens when he falls in love with Bella Swan?

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5. Chapter 3- Tribute Parade

Bella's POV

My bright, too-cheerful, and annoying escort woke me up early next morning. I had gotten more sleep than before and I was ready to start whatever it is that we were going to do.  More than anything, I was ready for the Games; I have been training for 10 years.

Breakfast was as plentiful as the dinner yesterday but they were nothing new due to the fact that I have gorged myself upon them until Charlie was killed. Jane and Alec, as silent as ever, arrived, settled down and began eating. Jacob stumbled into the room like a drunk person, which I think he is, sat down and started eating also, but between bites, brags, boasts and random nonsense spilled out in a uncontrollable torrent to nobody in particular. I just tuned him out. I ate with dignity, unlike Jacob who did not have the wealth of my parents and was stuffing food in his mouth and spilling some of it all over the table. The escort, Jane, Alec, and I looked on with disgust, distaste, or both. 

We arrived at the Capitol. Jacob and I looked through the window, the colors of the Capitol searing my eyes, and I smiled at them, completely ignoring Jacob. I didn't want to start making ties one day before the Games because it'll just hurt when I have to kill Jacob later in the Games when the Careers are the only ones left. I pushed the thought of killing my friend out of my mind. I would not think about it before I truly have to.

"Wow. It's really bright here.", I noted, the comment meant for myself.

"Yeah. It is.", a rough voice answered in a playful tone.

I glanced at Jacob. He was looking at me, eyebrows raised, as if asking me I'm right, aren't I? I was surprised, but not unpleasantly so. In that split second, I saw the young boy I befriended so many years ago. But it disappeared and I was faced with the same person who sat at the breakfast table today.

We stared at each other for a few seconds before both looked away.  My eyes were burning with uncharacteristic tears but I blinked them away quickly. District 2 or Career tributes don't cry., I scolded myself.

I was guided to my stylist, my mind still turning over the possibility that the old Jacob could come back to me before I remembered that I might have to kill him a few days from now and that it was probably best he did not become the person I once knew; it would be harder to kill Jacob if he was nice again.

Since my mom took body stuff really, really seriously, my prep team had nothing to do. My hair and skin was perfect except for the scars and wounds that are engraved into my skin from my mother' abuse. 

My stylist, a man with blond hair named Mike Newton, helped me out with the dress and helmet. I didn't like the greedy way he was eyeing my body but I tried to not complain. He took extra long but, in truth, there was nothing new and I ended up wearing the exact same thing as the girl tribute from last year.

I was loaded onto the chariot, riding out right after the tributes from District 1. The crowd screamed and my ears popped. I could feel the blood rushing to my face at the sight of people staring at us with such intensity. I forced a smile but I was ecstatic, knowing we are making an impression already. All the while, I was pretending that Jacob was not next to me; like he was not there at all. But out of the corner of my eye, I could see Jacob was very tense.

We were welcomed by President Aro- a man with translucent-white skin, skin that looked so fragile, I thought it was more brittle than ice, and black hair dressed in a black cloak and papery hair falling to his shoulder. I had the horrifying urge to touch his skin, to see if it was as brittle as it seems. Bloodred eyes filmed by a haze surveyed the crowd with a superior and almost thirsty look. 

He was giving the traditional speech and supposedly, the crowd was to be quiet. But they screamed and roared as the cameras, who were supposed to cut from each of the tribute chariots for an equal amount of time, kept on, more often than normal or fair, cutting to the extremely handsome boy tribute from District 8.

I had to admit he was handsome; even the weird, old textiles-costume with a fluffy, paper-like pink and blue hat couldn't curb the handsome features, and the golden, scorching topaz eyes. Instead, the costume hugged his body, showing off his muscular chest. He stood next to a girl with blonde hair and black eyes. They were also ignoring each other and surveying the crowd carefully. As I watched, the boy's golden eyes flickered to me for a fraction of a second, filled with an emotion I couldn't recognize, before blowing a kiss to the crowd. Hundreds of hands shot up while some of the women fainted from delight. I was also surprised. Nobody from the other districts have ever caught so much attention, except maybe Katniss Everdeen, who won the Games with fellow District 12 tribute Peeta Mellark, 6 years ago in the 74th Hunger Games.

I found my train of thoughts wandering to those to those two tributes and the 74th Hunger Games. I didn't like the idea of any of those losers winning but Katniss and Peeta were impressive, I had to give them that. At least Katniss was. She had come up with the idea of the night lock berries and enabled them both to survive. She was the one killing and surviving instead of joining the Careers. She was the one who blew up her enemies' food supply, and dropped a tracker jacker nest on them. And even though she brought so much trouble on our districts' tributes that year, she did things worth appraising for, as a District 12 tribute. Cato from that year was also a very good killer. The Careers-in-training were told to be like him and many many others who won the Games or died after killing a lot of people, taught to find other people's weaknesses, like what or who they loved. Control them. We all thought Cato would have won. To lose to those losers is a disgrace for us. But at least, he killed so many people before he died. Glimmer was a disgrace and so was Clove. Glimmer was killed by insects you could run away from. The others survived but why did she die? Clove, killed by that District 11 dude, Thresh. I thought she would have been better than that. At least they all know how to kill. Even Peeta was able to kill. They were not as large a disgrace as you are. That is exactly what you are. A disgrace. An embarrassment to your parents, district and relatives. They want you dead but not die in the Hunger Games because people will know what a disgrace you are. Maybe that's why Renee hate me so much. I shook myself back to the present, not wanting to have a breakdown in front of such a large crowd.

In the midst of screaming and roaring, I heard the name "Edward" going around. That must be the name of the District 8 tribute. I glared at them, the tributes from District 8. He was catching too much attention, drawing too much away from us. Tonight was about making a spectacular impression on the crowd and he was preventing that for us, deteriorating our chances of winning the Games. Unless....... I grabbed Jacob's hand, causing him to start in surprise. The crowd saw, to my shock and pleasure, and reacted exactly the way I hoped they would. They screamed, and smiling winningly and shooting Jacob a glance that spoke just go with it, I raised our hands high. The crowd screamed louder and my ears popped. Jacob looked at me strangely. The President, with his papery white skin and graceful movements that mirror Jane and Alec's, was finally done droning on though I couldn't catch a single word he said because of the crowd. 

We finally raced back inside, the wind blowing our hair back and racing over the other chariots as they rode back to the starting place behind us. Jacob suddenly jerked his head to look behind him, staring at somebody in the crowd, still gripping my hand. He watched the mysterious all the way into the stables. Our stylists helped us from the chariot.

Edward passed us on his way out the door and he glared at me with a glare so filled with fury and resentment that reminded me of my mother in her worst times, I resisted the urge to flinch away. Jacob was still tense and watching him, anticipating something. He only relaxed when Edward raced from the room. What was going on? What have I done to Edward? Why was Jacob acting like that?

Jacob and I were led to our own floor and room, only second luxurious compared to the others, in the center where we will be training. Everything was not new except maybe the high tech bathroom.

I took a shower, washing off every speck of makeup that I could while choosing a temperature, a kind of soap that I liked and played with all the buttons in general. I washed my hair that was messed up from the stupid helmet. When I stepped out, I placed my hand on a button, my hair and body was blow-dried, while an electric current goes through my hair, untangling the knots.

I rummaged through the wardrobe, trying to find something to wear that suit my usual style. I finally settled for all black and because they have this system where you say what you want to eat into a mouthpiece and it appears before you in less than a minute, steaming hot and wafting an aroma around the room, and I want to play with all their technology as much as I could before going into the Games, I danced around the room eating my favorite foods from my childhood. I was finally called for dinner, and I ate very little, due to the food I ate earlier.

Having excused myself from the table already, I laid on my bed, staring at the ceiling and wondering if I would survive. It was painful to think about home but nerve-wracking to think of the present or future. Thinking of Jacob and Edward's reaction during the tribute parade and in the stables was too mysterious and only served to raise more questions. I tried not to think of anything at all and just drift asleep but found my thoughts wandering to Edward again, to my distaste and displeasure. I fell asleep thinking about the handsome boy with the golden eyes and perfect face.

Edward's POV

My escort entered my room, expecting to wake me up with a cheerful "today's a very busy day so wake up already", but as I was already awake, so she made do with "Good morning, Edward. Today's a very busy day!" I rolled my eyes. That wasn't very polite but I couldn't help it. Everyday was a busy day for the too-cheerful to the point of annoying escort.

I sighed, sat up and changed into an random outfit. Who cares what I'm wearing now? When the stylist comes along, I'll change into something else anyway. Some of Jasper's practicality must be really rubbing off on me., I thought, amused.

I joined the others at the breakfast table, not eating anything, ignoring the plate of food in front of me. The others looked at me with strange expressions at my lack of appetite.

Good for them, I had already taken the precautions of feeding before the Reaping so if I was chosen, I wouldn't be thirsty. I wouldn't need to feed in the arena; I could last two weeks at most before needing to feed again.

I left them again, not needing the advice or wanting to listen to the nervous rant of Sashya Denali that goes on day and night in her head these days. My escort was disapproving.

"Edward! Where are you going? You have to listen to your mentors and their advice, Edward! It could be the very information that keeps you alive!", she scolded, frowning.

I wanted to tell her that I am already positive that I'll live but that would cause suspicion, dangerous because suspicions can grow until they have basically figured out what we are, so I just merely said, "Thank you for the wonderful advice but we all know that. I just don't feel very well at the moment so can you please give me some privacy, ma'am?"

The escort looked at me strangely.

I could feel my muscles tightening in anxiety. Whoops. They only speak that way a few hundred years ago, the time when I was borned and raised. I shouldn't have let that slip. That would surely cause attention in the escort's mind. Despite the fact that the thoughts in her mind was truly disgusting, I listened carefully, seeing what she was suspecting and how do I prove her wrong so I don't raise suspicion.

He speaks so old-fashioned. Could he be from another era? The before time?, she wondered in her head. Her train of thought paused for one second before continuing, That's impossible. He's so young and so is his family. Nobody has been able to be immortal. At least not yet though President Snow has been living for an awfully long time. She hesitated again. What is wrong with you? Today's a busy day and you want to get the boy out alive so you better get to work! First things first, he says he doesn't feel well. I'll get him to be better before the Games began though he looks well. He is very pale. He would miss the mentor's suggestions. It could cause him his life. Though he seems like he knows he would survive. She frowned to herself. But that's impossible. Nobody has been sure they would survive. They still have dangerous enemies, lethal adversaries. I truly hope he makes it out of there alive and I'll make sure I'm a big part of the reason. He'll surely thank me and I'll get what I want. Disturbing images and daydreams started playing in a slideshow/movie in her head and I tuned her thoughts out, disgusted. I relaxed in relief. She doesn't suspect anything. Not yet.

It's surprising, those thoughts only took a few seconds to form, faster than the average person. Not that I care. Well, I should care because she was my escort but she's just so annoying sometimes. Her voice cut me from my train of thoughts.

"Well then. We'll have to get you to the doctor. We don't want you sick two days before the Games.", she said, sounding resigned. "But are you sure? You don't want to miss the advice."

I gave her a smile and heard her breathing falter. "No, thank you.", I responded, trying to keep the annoyance out of my voice so I could answer politely. "No need to fuss over me; I'll be fine. As for the advice and learning, I'll ask the mentors some time later."

I lay on my bed, waiting for our train to reach the Training Center in the Capitol. My mind kept turning over my family's parting words, especially Alice's. What did she mean? She was so careful with her thoughts that day....... A thought hit me in the face with a force of a vampiric slap. Maybe, I'll meet my soulmate in the arena. No. I hope not. That would be bad. Very very bad indeed. I saw in my head, suddenly, an image of Isabella Swan in the Training Center. I'll meet her tomorrow in the training room., I thought. I wondered which District she's from. It should be 2. I didn't want her to be. I didn't want to apologize to a killer. But I promised my father and I must keep the promise.

The others finished breakfast- I could hear the clashing of plates outside my room from all the way in the dining room as the Avoxes clear away the utensils- and I figured we were close to the Capitol- my sense of smell picked up the foul artificial scent of the Capitol and the aroma of human blood a few miles before we actually arrived.  Joining Sashya at the window, I peered out at the Capitol. The colors, painful to human eyes, were a hundred times worse on my vampire eyes. I had to shield my eyes to see the citizens. They waved at me and thoughts clamored in my head, causing a painful headache. The headache and the pain on my eyes would have made me pass out if I could. I backed away from the window and I nearly heard a collective sigh of disappointment from the crowd outside. It would be a very long day.

I was led to my prep team. All they had to do was rip the small amount of hair from my body before I met my stylist. Jessica Stanley, her head filled with disgusting thoughts as she saw my naked body, dressed me in the exact same costume the boy tribute from last year wore. I bit back a groan to be polite. There will be no impressions or attention we are grabbing tonight during the tribute parade. It's probably a good thing that Alice or Rosalie was not chosen. Rosalie would have been horrified at the costume and would be chewing the stylist out for it. I would have done so also except for the fact that criticizing the costumes would be impolite and hurt the stylists' feelings. Alice would have designed her own costume. 

We were loaded onto a chariot pulled by horses and rode out after the tribute of District 7, dressed like trees and looking self-consciously at themselves. I didn't blame them. In fact, I was also self-conscious.

The crowd screamed and people started pointing at me. In people's thoughts, my name went around and around, making it sound like everybody was calling me. I didn't blush easily, even if I was human, but if I was human right now, I would have turned tomato red. I was starting to regret not chewing the stylist out for making us wear such.... I didn't want to say "stupid" because it would be impolite but I thought the costumes were truly silly. Since I'm a vampire, the regret was a thousand times stronger. I groaned inwardly.

We stopped in front of the President, and to my dismay, the cameras kept on cutting to us. Squaring my shoulders, I stood up straighter and smiled. I caught sight of Isabella Swan in the District 2 chariot, her eyes staring off into space, before catching my eyes. I looked away and blew a kiss to the crowd. The response was immediate.

In the background, my vampire sense of hearing picked up the President's speech and he was gazing over at the crowd with a murderous rage gleam in his eyes. I didn't have to listen to his thoughts to know what he was thinking: he wanted to be listened to, obeyed, respected and the crowd was not giving him what he wanted. They were in big trouble.

"Edward" was bouncing around in the crowd and I was surprised. Those cruel people actually bothered to look on the program to figure out my name. My eyes flickered back to Isabella Swan. A thoughtful expression dominated her face before it turned into a determined one. I tried to pick her "voice" that spoke her thoughts out of the millions but couldn't.

The crowd tored their eyes off us for a second and I followed their gaze to the District 2 tribute chariot. Isabella Swan and the boy were holding hands and, smiling, she raised their hands above their heads. People screamed their approval and I was thankful that the attention was off me but I was bothered by the fact that they were holding hands.

I frowned. I didn't even know those killers. And they were killers. The Careers. The ones who trained against the law for the Games, the ones who killed ruthlessly in the arena. Why would it bother me so much that they were holding hands? Alice's last warning rang in my head again.

I was shaken from my train of thoughts when  the speech was over and we started riding back.

A delicious scent, more delicious than any other I have ever smelled, flew with the wind towards me. Fire raced down my throat and venom flooded my mouth. My muscles tensed and I nearly lurched into a crouch, and I would have attacked if it wasn't for the werewolf scent that accompanied the aroma. I was jerked out of my trance for a second and we were inside.

Whose blood was that?, I wondered. My throat was burning even though I was not thirsty, thirsting for the blood of the mysterious someone. I dared not to stay and find out who it was in fear I would attack so I turned around and made to leave the room, ignoring my stylists and Sashya, walking as fast as I could without showing the others my inhuman speed. I passed the District 2 chariots, Isabella Swan and another boy, and my throat went into flames. Thirst consumed me. I wanted, no needed her blood. But I can't attack, not without exposing our family. Without thinking, I glared at her, the one who could cause the break of my control that I practiced over hundreds of years, the one who is not burning my throat with a thirst I couldn't out out. At the corner of my focus, I saw the boy tribute watching me intensely- I could smell the werewolf in him-, and I raced from the room, not caring where I was going, only wanting to be out of the same room with Isabella Swan, to stay out of the temptation.

The werewolf's thoughts followed me out the door. Don't you dare think about getting her!  I don't want to expose both of us but I will if that's what it takes to stop you. 

I swallowed hard once I get outside, trying to quench the sudden thirst. Oh my god. How am I going to apologize to her tomorrow? The smell of her blood pulsing in her throat. For an immeasurable amount of time, I wandered the halls, swallowing , thinking about Isabella Swan, the werewolf, my family, Forks, anything besides the smell of her blood. An Avox led me back to my room after he found me wandering around in the halls.

I skipped dinner and laid on my bed, cursing myself, after taking a quick shower, trying to rub off every speck of makeup there is and get used to the technology a little. You can't ruin what Carlisle has built for you all these years. You can't disappoint him. You should have been more in control; you've had hundreds among thousands of years to practice this kind of control. If it wasn't for the scent of the werewolf, you would have attacked. What were you thinking? All the while, the monster inside me, my nature, thirsted so bad for the blood of Isabella Swan. You must taste the blood. It is in your nature. Let it take over. Who cares if it's illegal to hurt another tribute before the Games? You're going into the Games anyway, your family may be disappointed but you won't be sentenced to death and neither would they. Go. Get the blood. It's in your nature. Let it take over.

The night passed with me thinking of Isabella Swan with the delicious blood and scolding myself.

Jacob's POV

I was led to my brainless prep team and an idiotic stylist named Jessica Stanley. The prep team ripped every inch of body hair from my body and have already prepared me for the stylist. I hated Jessica and the greedy way she eyed my naked body. Sadly, I had to obey her but she was so dumb and unimaginative, I ended up wearing the exact same thing as the boy tribute from last year. 

But God, does Bella look nice! The costume made her look like a warrior though it still showed her beauty. A beautiful warrior, something everyone wanted to be back in 2. I could barely keep my eyes off her and my thoughts dignified.

We rode out and immediately, the sickly sweet and icy scent of vampires hit me. Ugh! I wrinkled my nose against the smell. Bella stood next to me, smiling but never giving me another glance. I felt so rejected. I've been her friend for years and then, she ignored me for so long, like she is doing now. Why? 

I was immersed with wondering why she was ignoring me now when she suddenly grabbed my hand. I jumped and I could hear my heartbeat increasing. She actually took my hand! My mouth went dry and I felt like I was floating in some kind of paradise where everything is as I wanted them to be. The attention was taken off the golden-eyed leech in the District 8 chariot, who was standing next to a human girl, was getting a lot of attention. He was standing, surveying the crowd and blowing kisses, causing the crowd to go wild, before we took the attention. He looked grateful but troubled. Hmm. I wonder why. 

But I could smell another one. Where? My eyes were drawn to another figure on a high balcony and I could see the President with his milky red eyes, sickly sweet scent and translucent-white skin. Just like his "children", Jane and Alec, the witch twins. I was getting sick of having dinner with Jane and Alec, their scent ruining the food. I wondered how they could possibly tolerate human food until I realized the food came back up after each meal when I was passing a random door. I'd chuckled under my breath, knowing they could hear me. There are downsides of being one of the eternally damned. 

We were racing back when I knew the bloodsucker behind me was plotting something. A natural warning that somebody might attack. I turned around stiffly. The bloodsucker, his eyes filled with lust, was staring at Bella, muscles tensed, nearly in a crouch. I watched him carefully, contemplating whether or not he was going to attack. He was sworn to secrecy and lack of human blood so I wasn't so sure if he would though he looked thirsty enough to. Why was he thirsty? His eyes are yellow, for crying out loud! Aren't they supposed to be well-fed when their eyes are yellow or bloodred?

We were inside and he raced outside but not before passing our chariot. I stiffened, already letting the ball of warmth inside me grow so I could erupt into a werewolf at any moment, ready to protect Bella. He glared at her and the fury was enough for me to explode. Control your temper, Jacob., I thought. My thoughts returned to the bloodsucker who wanted Bella's blood. Don't you dare think about getting her! I don't want to expose both of us but I will if that's what it takes to stop you. 

He raced out the door and I finally relaxed. He won't be coming back for her, not today. He still stand by his vows, at least, for now. But who knows what will happen in the arena?

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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