(JONAS'S POV)
"Jonas, sweetheart. Training starts in fifteen minutes!"
Tontine's shrilly voice echoes in my empty brain, but it doesn't shake me from my peaceful sleep. I hear the door open with a squeak and Tontine's 10 inch heels clang disturbingly on the cold, polished floor.
"I'm up," I croon, and I sit up, groggily excepting the morning wake.
"Your second day of training begins today. Your outfit is on your dresser, and we'll be waiting for you in the bottom common." She commences to leave, but I stop her abruptly.
"Tontine," I start. "Do you know...think...Boston will make it home?" I tremble as the words barely escape my lips. "Do you think he'll live?" Tears brimming in my eyes, I start to shake, but keep the sadness inside as much as possible.
"I don't know, darling. Anything could happen in these dreadful games, for even I despise them." I finally let the tears loose. They pour everywhere, and I just let them go, for they keep coming.
"Just do...everything...you can...t-too save...him. Please."
I leave a stunned Tontine behind as sobs drench my cheeks and thoughts of how I could soon lose Boston weaken me to the bone. I shut the door to my changing quarters, and fall to the floor yet again defeated by sorrow. I knock on the door awakens me from my conscious coma, and I quickly slip on my training outfit, the same as yesterday's.
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I do my best to wipe the distress from my damp eyes. "Are you alright?" Boston asks.
"I'm fine," I lie. "Not excited for training though."
"Understandable," he replies with a nod. "We're on the same track." He shines me a fake, cocky grin and I smile as we enter the training center, immune to the waiting tributes, and vulnerable to our surroundings.
I'm glad to see that we're not the last tributes, and Boston and I aren't the ones keeping everyone off schedule.
"We're still waiting for three," Boston whispers in my ear.
"That's what I thought," I whisper back and give him a sideways glance, causing a small smile to creep onto his lips.
The district three tributes, Shasta and Agata Thej, enter the center and we are all aloud to go to our centers. I immediately immerse myself in the casualty of knife throwing, something I improved immensely at during yesterday's training session.
"You really think you can get out of that arena, huh?" Startled, I turn around, the knife pointed upward towards the speaker's throat. Within my haste to turn around, I slice the kids cheek, and gasp as I drop the knife. Blood oozes out of her left cheek and a hint of anger sparkles in her eyes.
"I-I'm so sorry," I say. "Can I help you fix it?"
She smiles. "You do have a chance." She nods and then answers, "yeah, you can clean it up for me."
We walk over to the medicine training table and I pick up some herbs and oils, grinding them together to make a substance that makes your eyes widen in a sickening glance at first sight.
"Don't put that on my face," the girl says in a repulsive tone. "That's absolutely disgusting."
"It'll help, I promise. I've used this back home to heal cuts like this all the time. I took lessons at Seven's apothecary."
She sighs. "Alright. Let's test this magic." I take her face in my hands and gently rub the liquid over the cut. The blood stops and I add an extra layer of a more solid medicine. I hand her a pressure wrap and reel her to keep the pressure firm on the wound.
"It'll heal in no time."
"What was that?" She asks, awed.
"Primrose, olive oil, coconut cream, and maple leaves."
"Thank you," she says, and stands up to go. "How can I repay you?"
"Don't. We're about to fight to our death, so there's not much I could use right now." I shrug and she laughs.
"Thank you...again...what's your name?"
"Jonas Mason."
"Thank you Jonas. I'm Maria. Maria Bastion."
"No problem Maria. Sorry about the knife thing." We part and I head back over to the knife station. I pick up the knife I cut Maria with, and throw it, with as much force as I can, at the dummy's chest. It impales it right in the center, and I grin. Maria was right. I do have a chance at winning these horrid games....
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The knife, stained with my blood. The knife, the reason I'm dead. The knife, in Boston's chest. I let out a bloodcurdling scream, and the world goes black, leaving me petrified, dead.
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I pick up more knifes, throwing, hurling, killing. Dummys and targets fall to the ground everywhere I look. Trying as hard as I can to get those dreadful thoughts of a painful death in the arena out of my head. I feel as though I've been hijacked in a way. Hijacked so I can only think terrible thoughts. Thoughts of murder, death, blood. At that thought, I know I will never become the killing machine the Capitol wants me to be....
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Do You Remember? A Hunger Games Fanfiction
Fanfiction[COMPLETED] Many, many years after the rebellion, Paylor of Eight still reigned over Panem. Until she was executed by Snow's remaining family who saught to revenge him and continue the Hunger Games. The fight to the death was back on, and now ther...
