Chapter 1

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I bolted awake, the sound of my mom screaming and my dad throwing plates interrupted my sleep. My mom always told us it was her fault, that he didn't mean to hit her he was just upset. I thought it would never get any worse, but I suppose you haven't really been exposed to how cruel the world is at seven. Sometimes my mom said he had a bad day at work so we shouldn't bother him. He seemed to have a lot of bad days; he would storm into the house and wallow in self-pity until he reeked of booze. Mom always said he would stop drinking after a while, but I think it was just wishful thinking. Every day he would come home, and my mom would tell me and my sister lie after lie. The worst part was we couldn't do anything to stop it. Last year, a few days before the Reaping, my older sister was found trying to escape over the fence that surrounds the district. The punishment for that is death by hanging. After that, at home, I was told to train harder and to volunteer for the games as soon as I am ready. In school, we were always taught that we should never go outside of the fence and that we should appreciate everything the Capitol has done for us. A long time ago there was a huge war, the 13 districts turned against the Capitol and lost, resulting in 12 districts and an angry Capitol. As punishment, one boy and one girl are selected from a pool of names and taken to the Capitol to fight to the death. Everyone here says it is a way to bring honor to our district, I used to disagree, how does killing children bring honor? I was told not to question it and instead train harder. My parents have always wanted me to volunteer. They wanted me to bring them honor, and so they live out their twisted fantasy through me. I go to school, train, eat, and do it all over again the next day.

My parents took me to the academy at eight, I had practiced throwing knives in our backyard, and I was old enough to try out. I arrived at the training center, was ushered into a room with about twenty other kids, and was given a uniform to change into. A woman with long brown hair introduced herself as Tasha and separated us by age. I was taken to a room filled with all kinds of weapons and made my way to a line behind the targets and knives. When it was my turn, I picked up three small knives and made my way to a target. Unfortunately, the first throw wasn't great, the knife landed an inch from the bullseye. I brushed it off, got used to the weight, and threw the second knife. It landed with a thud about an inch away from the center of the target. Still not good enough, I threw the last knife, and it landed perfectly in the center. I moved on to the dummy and did the exact same thing, all three landed where I wanted them to, in the head, heart, and stomach. Though I wasn't good at sword fighting or hand-to-hand combat, I was accepted into the academy, and Tasha said she would teach me other skills.

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