Chapter 5: Mrs O'leary can talk?

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*Next, it was the boys turn and my whole body became frozen stiff. It was going to be me. It was going to be me. It was going to be me. Right?*

"Simon Russel" Rang through the square and I let out a sigh of relief. It wasn't me. But then I immediately felt bad for feeling relief for another person being sent to their death. When the boy stepped up, he looked only fourteen and was tall and scrawny, with no chance of winning. I let out a sigh of relief but instantly felt horrible. Who was I to feel grateful for a kid being condemned to death. I was a terrible person sometimes, guess I deserved the games.

The ceremony continued as it normally did and when I looked over at Grover, he had a grateful look on his face that matched mine. Finnick however looked just as bad as he had before the boy's name was called, with a worried expression plastered across his features. He was fidgeting, which was something he never did on camera, and had thrown his cool, calm and collected demeanour out the window.

When the ceremony was finished my mother said a quick goodbye to Finnick. This Games was harder than usual, not because of the amount of death, but because it was like Finnick's games all over again. We had a friend there. Mom and I often baked cookies just to keep our minds and hands busy, but neither of us thought Annie would win, she had no training whatsoever. But she did. All because she could swim. She came back to the shell of a person that so many victors had, empty and broken. She was always nervous and had a permanent empty look in her eyes. I didn't want that for anyone, but no matter how much we tried to console her, only Finnicks company seemed to do anything. What was it with the two of them?

Finnick believed that I would be chosen the next reaping because I would be 14, just like he was. So our training became ten times more intense, and he moved on from just knives and self defence to tridents and a bow and arrow. Newsflash: I suck at archery. But I was decent with a trident, and could kill fish, deer and rabbits with it easily. Not that it didn't take a few months to hone that skill. But as per usual, Finnick wanted to give me the pep talk of the century.

"Hey Perce, can we talk?" He asked at the end of one of our sessions.

"Sure." I replied, not expecting any sort of lecture because I had done particularly well that session.

"I need to talk to you about the Games, just sit down for a moment." And so I sat, watching him intently.

"When you need to kill someone, and you will have to, there was a thought that always helped me," he began with a sigh, "They're just fish, and you can kill a fish, so why not them."

"They're just fish?" I asked, not believing that he actually meant such a terrible thing. It didn't feel right, people were more than fish. Surely my brother understood that.

"Yeah, just, try it for me."

"They are not 'just fish' Finnick, they have emotions, lives, families I will have to see on the victory tour if I win. How can you call them fish!" I argued, rage boiling inside of me.

"Percy, you have to trust me. I know what's best for you. I have been there!" My brother retaliated, reciprocating my anger.

"You know nothing, you have been absent for half my life ever since you won! You disappear and leave Mom in tears, wondering where you've run off to. You leave us worrying and stressing about you and your health and yet you say you do this for us? You hurt us more than anything else!" Tears had begun to well in my eyes, but I willed them to stay, not to fall and show my weakness.

"Watch it Jackson. I'd shut my mouth if I were you before anything you say turns me against you."

"Fine, turn against me, it's not like I want your petty arguments on my side anyway." I spat, the jerking of my neck causing my wounds to shift and sting.

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