Battle Scars

Chapter 8: Knives

Chapter eight: knives
One evening, I made the decision to slip down to the training gymnasium after the other tributes were long gone, and practice my knife throwing. I waited until I could hear nothing, and then climbing quietly out of bed, I pulled on a hoodie and a pair of jeans. It was about eleven when I slipped out of my room, closing the door behind me. I heard no one else as I descended the stairs, (I didn't want to use the elevator on my own) and to my relief when I entered the gym, it was empty. Lucky for me there was no curfew for tributes, since most were sensible enough to get a few decent nights sleep before the arena.
I made my way over to the knife box. There was ten in there - ten shining blades, all sharpened to a point. These were deadly weapons, but try to take one out of the gym and you'd be pounced upon by at least a hundred vicious, white coated peace keepers. I picked up one, and turned it over in my hand, testing the blade. I turned to look at the target, and taking aim, I threw the knife hard. It shot through the air, and hit just outside the bullseye. I turned to take another knife. This one hit the bullseye perfectly. I felt a smirk creeping into my face, but I dismissed it impatiently. This was no time to be proud of my abilities. I needed to make them better than they already were. I took another knife, and turned to throw it. Then turned to take another. I found a certain rhythm in the work. Turn, pick up a knife. Turn and aim, fire. Eventually, the box was empty. I picked it up, and crossing to the target, I pulled all the knives out of the bullseye. This was too easy. I needed something harder.
Looking around the station, I noticed crates stacked in one corner. I pulled them along the floor, and positioned them in a row, stacking some one on top of another, some by themselves. Then I turned my attention to the targets.
There was three of them, and I noticed that you could adjust the height at which they were set. I changed their heights to three different heights, and positioned them around my crate course. Then after setting the timer at the station, I ran through the course. I jumped from crate to crate, and when I came to a target, I threw the knife as I was running. Each time I completed the course, I changed it slightly so I was not running on my memory of how to tackle it. Eventually, I changed the targets to moving targets, and practiced on them.
When I began, I was slow, and my shots were inaccurate. But as I continued in frustration to practice, my aim slowly became better, and I picked up speed. After finishing a final perfect round on the crates and moving targets, I turned off the timer, and returned the crates and targets to their original positions. I went about picking up the knives I had thrown.
"I knew there was something I was missing during training."
I almost jumped at the sound of his voice. I turned, and came face to face with the leader of PMS.
"Mitchell?" I asked, confused. "What are you doing?"
"It's Mitch, by the way. And I might say the same for you. It's an hour past midnight." His face registered amusement, and I glanced at the clock quickly. I'd been down here for two hours?
"How long were you watching me for?" I asked.
"Long enough," he replied. "Can you blame me for watching the show? You're quite incredible with the knives, aren't you." I felt my face heat up a little, surprised.
"Thanks," I replied simply. "But that's why I'm practicing now. I didn't want everyone to know." He nodded, understanding.
"Fair enough."
"What about you?" I smiled a little. "You've done pretty well for yourself in training. You're great at fighting, I can see why they made you their leader." He shrugged, smiling a little.
"It's a dangerous position," he commented.
"Why do you say that?"
"Mutiny. They all know I'm stronger than them, and that I can beat them. And I think they're a little afraid of me, or what I could potentially do to them. I'm worried they'll team up on me, and try to take me out early on in the games." He sighed, and and looked away. "I don't know why I'm telling you this."
"I won't tell anyone else," I reassured him. "But don't tell anyone about the knives." He nodded in agreement. I looked at him, wondering if he realised what an impact he had on the other tributes.
"What?" He asked.
"Nothing," I said quickly.
"No, it was something," he chuckled. "You were scrutinising me - you had that look on your face." I sighed.
"I don't think you realise that your team members aren't the only ones who are afraid of you." Mitch laughed a little.
"What, the other tributes? They're not scared of me, they're just worried about the team in general. But I myself don't scare anybody."
"Mitch you're the leader of the team, of course they're scared of you." Mitch's brow furrowed into a frown.
"Really?" He asked. I nodded, looking up at him. He looked at me, appearing to be almost concerned.
"Are you afraid of me?" He asked. I dropped his gaze, and looked at the floor.
"You'll probably kill me in a couple of days time," I said quietly. Mitch sighed.
"Abby you don't need to be afraid of me." I was confused.
"Why not?" I asked. But at that moment, footsteps were heard coming from the other end of the gym, just out of sight from where we were.
"You should probably go," he said quickly. "The rest of the team is coming." I nodded, and replacing the box of knives I hadn't realised I was holding, I headed for the door. I turned back to look at him, and he gave me a smile, and mouthed 'bye.'
I left the gym, my mind in a whirl. I was just in time too - the other members of PMS entered shortly after, and I heard them talking to their leader.
"Who was that just gone?" Asked one of them.
"Just another tribute," explained Mitch casually. "I kicked them out, and they're gone. They won't be coming back in a hurry." I walked off down the corridor, confused. Why was Mitch acting like this? Since when did he care about anyone else? And what did he mean by saying I didn't need to be afraid of him? Was he implying he wouldn't kill me?
I felt like knocking my head to rid it of the unanswered questions I was plagued with. I turned the corner, and came to the stairs that led up to the living quarters of the tributes, and on beyond them to the roof of the compound. As I walked tiredly up the steps, I puzzled over Mitch, and why he had come to watch me in the first place. It was clear he wasn't there to meet his team members. If that was the case he would have entered at the same time as them.
I sighed, realising he had obviously guessed I was hiding my skills. I wondered if he wasn't just as sharp and perceptive as the knives I had been throwing.