3rd HUNGER GAMES (fanfic)(English version)

7. Mourning

>> You all know me believe. They are wrong. They have seen my face countless times: from the first time on television, the year he began "Punishment" for my family, when the Capitol began to destroy until the time I was appointed Tribute, I was introduced, trained, interviewed and released into the arena. Live to hundreds of millions of viewers I betrayed my District, betray my family, but most importantly my principles. The whole world now knows my name. The whole world has an opinion about what I did. But at this point I are so indifferent sentences like applause.

I've been seven days, eleven hours and twelve minutes inside the Arena, it is as if in death row waiting my turn, waiting stalking or being stalked.

Since that time, I have spent every second that passed to reflect on the possible facts made by my family, because so have brought me here

I'm not a saint, not a martyr, not a terrorist, nor a madman, not a murderer. The names of those who believe know are wrong

The cold evening progressed at a slow pace, while I was stuck in these thoughts every second became heavier and impossible to bear. After witnessing hidden behind the rubble the gruesome death of the girl of 5 hands Lunática 12, the idea of imagining that all of Panem to see me in a way so similar and soulless do the same with girl my district, I was chilling. Unable to conceive.

A peculiar tinkling awaken me from my little dream, dream that had plunged me after giving many laps to what happened recently. I see a kind of sustained drop box in a modest bright parachute. I knew exactly what it was, but who could have sent it? Maybe my mentor? The question gnawed at me What will it contain? ... Water? Food? ¿Medicine ... jeez: Opening it I could not conceive what he saw ...

The silence of the arena in the middle of the night was disturbed by my gasp, my heart was beating without stopping, my mind kept thinking about the contents of that box, my feet felt the ground beneath them to run, I stopped only to vomit what little I had in my stomach torn now. He remembered every word of that subliminal message: "A LITTLE REMINDER THAT DO NOT HAVE COMMANDED A VACATION TO THE ARENA"

That could have been for the fact that from the Cornucopia have not been very active killing to amuse the depraved Capitol, also added to the fact just get away from those scene in which he was terminated the life of the girl of 5, but without hesitation for not tackling the Lunatic of 12. the contents of the box was to leave no room for doubt: A heart shattered. A heart that undoubtedly belonged to my ... Just thought I halved. That old lady had suffered the worst in life and now suffered the worst of deaths.

Lanzo a cry of anger towards one of the cameras focused each of my movements as I pulled my knees for that oppression and helplessness he felt in those moments, President __The be enjoying my reaction, my dolor__ My thoughts were blinded, my heart was filled with rage and my body expelled that need revenge. Find someone with whom Arena could download all the anger that filled me was all I thought now.

Behind the remains well what could have been a luxurious house passed the flash of a shadow coming out in a hurry, I take my ax and a jump I stand to follow what could well be an illusion created by my damaged mind, but what really drew me in and finish what he started, maybe had finished with my family, but not me, not today, not this way.

The shadow became more visible when approaching me more, somewhat slow, wobbly, dying. I hurried and almost on par I realized I was a girl, by the large number marked on his back I could tell it was one of the professionals this year. With one tug on her hair I knocked to the ground, his face was pale, haggard. His eyes were out of orbit, delusional. He smiled so macabre and his expression was palpable the fact he did not recognize what was happening in his left hand I found what may have been the cause of that state in which he was now immersed. Darts, but not any kind, these darts were chemically worked by the organizers. On his right arm I found strong evidence that he had stuck with one of these darts, __Estupida__ thought.

I had two options, one to let death come to a slow and agonizing way or two hasten his death and vent my anger. I opted for the latter. I take my ax and give the first blow, given a sharp blow in the middle of his forehead 2 the girl did not have time to outline wince. The second blow was directed to the left side of his chest, this was no longer necessary, since the girl no longer had life, but my anger still persisted. Kick my ax and kneel on the girl who posed dead, the second cut slowed my work. Like a madman moonlighting on his chest which had been lost in the same night. His heart.

I take my ax again, is something I can not pass, from the moment this act will be seen as my sign of distinction in these games. In one short stroke the head of my opponent, if you can call it so what is lying at my feet.

Here I am in front of cameras in victory, with my two new trophies again. In one hand I hold the head of the girl and the other her lifeless and cold heart.

I must say that the night has become fascinating. ... So many events. A pretty rugged frame. Sounds like a movie script. Edden Luna, a guy who did not think they even leave the cornucopia, murdered a professional in the presence of a hundred spectators and all I had to say was: "DO NOT OPEN THE EYES"