Let The Games Begin // Billie Eilish

Chapter 1

I wander the streets of Block 12 at 6am every morning. My home. I find that it's always the most peaceful at this hour. As soon as 8am hits, the streets gradually start to fill with it's starving, fading residents. It's so painfully clear, my Block needs help.

There is barely enough food to feed half the people living here. People have to travel 3 miles to the nearest water fountain on the hill, and at this stage, no one even wants children because they don't think it's fair to bring anyone into this type of world.

However, while my home is suffering in a constant state of poverty, the elitists up in Block 1 sip on golden wine glasses and stroll along the luxurious streets of the well-developed city.

Block 1 is where The Ring is controlled. Each Block progressively gets poorer and poorer- with Block 1 being the most wealthy, and Block 12 being the exact opposite.

As I carry myself along the streets of run down buildings and huts that act as houses, I can't help but feel a sense of eeriness in the air. Today is selection day, when we find out who is gonna be participating in this year's Games.

I'm 19, so this will be my third time in the running. There's only a population of 750 residents here in Block 12, so the chances of getting picked are always higher than I would like them to be.

Every year on the morning of selection day, I get a sickly pit in my stomach. I cannot get picked. I simply can't. I'm an only child, and I honestly believe it would kill my parents more than it would (literally) kill me. They both know I would never survive it. I may be emotionally intelligent, but when it comes to the physical aspect, I'm admittedly hopeless. I'm too weak. Everyone in Block 12 is. We have no food, a small amount of water, and quite frankly, not much willingness to live. No one from Block 12 has won The Games before, because we aren't physically capable.

After a while of pondering all of the possible outcomes of today, I find my way back to my home - a small cabin a little out from the Main Street. I'm greeted by my sweet parents as I gently close the front door.

"How was your walk, honey?" My dad's soothing voice echoes throughout the tiny, dark house.

"It was nice, it cleared my head a little" I lie. I havnt been able to take my mind off of the games since the beginning of the month. I can tell my parents are worried about me, so if withholding the fact that I'm drowning in a feeling of dread will make them less worried, then that's what I'm going to do.

"Oh, I'm so glad to hear that" he grins as he looks up from his soup while sat at our kitchen table, my mother stirring a pot behind him.

There's a thick tension in the air. We are all thinking the same thing. Today could be the day that I leave them, and never return. But no one dares to address it. It would be too painful, so instead we let the cloud of unimaginable anxiety hang over us while making frivolous conversation.

I sit down and start drinking the bowl of soup waiting for me at my place at the table. My mother sits down next to me and we eat together as a family, for perhaps the last time.

After 10 minutes of sitting in an uncomfortable silence, my mother says the words I have been dreading since last year's selection day.

"Come on dear, it's time to get ready."

-

I say my goodbyes to my parents at the house. The look of sympathy and worry in their eyes is unbearable. They don't want to lose me, and I don't want to cause them any pain.

I internally sink as I leave my humble home and make my way down to the selection grounds with all the other residents from ages 16-30. Even though we all walk together to the same location with the same purpose, no one says a word. It is as though we are all walking to our impending dooms, which essentially, we are. There are just no words to describe this situation.

As we reach the grounds, I situate myself in the middle of the small crowd. I want to be as unnoticeable as possible, as if that would lower my chances of being picked. However, deep down I know that I nor anyone else has control over this. It doesn't matter how much you blend in, the second your name is called out you will stick out like a sore thumb.

As I look around, I notice that I didn't actually want any of these people to be picked. I can read their expressions, and I can see pain in every single one of their eyes. Everyone wants to be here no less than I do.

That's a thing about me, I have a gift for reading people. I've always been able to tell exactly what people are thinking based on a mix of body language, facial expression and intuition. It's my favourite thing about myself. Quite frankly, it's the only thing I like about myself.

I'm snapped out of my thoughts when the sound of a loud bell rings across the field. I look up at the stage in front of me, and see a small man with grey hair approach the microphone.

Oh god, here it goes.

My thoughts are too loud to comprehend anything he is actually saying. The same words repeating in my head -"please don't be me, please please please". I'm almost certain I'm whispering it out loud, but I'm too consumed by anxiety to care.

Suddenly, I become painfully aware of my surroundings as he walks towards the bowl of boys names. He carefully places his hand inside, and digs around a little until he whips out a slip of paper from the bottom.

Everyone watches in anticipation as he unfolds the slip, and leans into the microphone.

"James Akon."

Everyone searches their surroundings, trying to find the boy who has been dealt the unfortunate card. There is a deathly silence as a man in his mid-twenties slowly makes his way towards the stage. His fair hair looks matted, and his gaunt body indicates how weak he is. I can see the fear in him, and can't help but feel overwhelmed with pity. I can't even imagine what it's like to be in his position right now.

He reluctantly walks up the steps leading to the stage and stands beside the host. All the colour is drained form his face, and he looks as though he could collapse at any moment. Rightfully so. He knows he is going to die soon.

The host then walks over to the bowl of girls name, and I can feel my heartbeat quicken. I feel like I can't move a muscle. I'm completely stiff.

Unlike the boys names, he quickly slides his hand into the bowl and simply picks out the first slip of paper his hand reaches. He shows it off to the crowd before slowly opening it and reading the name aloud.

It feels like it's all happening in slow motion. As the words escape his lips, My whole body is consumed by a wave of disbelief and terror.

"Cove Marshall."

Well, fuck.

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A/N: Ahhhh my first chapter! I know this wasn't the most exciting chapter, and it might take a little while to pick up as this book is a slow burner but I promise it gets better.

Thanks for reading!