Hope

CHAPTER FIVE

Abigail's hands shook as she waited for her name to be called for the individual rankings.

Finnick and her had been working on her abilities with a trident, but she still wasn't confident. If it wasn't a spear, she wasn't sure she was able to use it—but she hadn't touched a spear since Atticus was whipped for the sharks.

Abigail Gray wasn't sure she had what it took, but she had to try. She put Atticus in this mess, she was going to get him out.

How was Atticus? Was he even alive? Abigail prayed he was.

The game maker and various sponsors filled the upstairs space as they observed each of the tributes. She knew the boy from 1 had already shown his skills with the spears, how could she compare?

It's not easy using a spear—she used it to survive. Purposely fighting was another thing entirely.

"Abigail Gray," she spoke with her chest back. Her eyes roamed nervously at the many faces now focused on her—a group of entitled men who most likely didn't care about anyone but themselves.

They made her angry.

"District Four," she announced, turning back towards her weapon options in front of her.

She quickly adjusted her bangs resting on her forehead as she took in the picture in front of her. The spears were larger than the ones back home—almost as long as she was tall. Could Atticus have adjusted the size of hers?

Next to it stood a trident. Finnick hadn't given her advice on whether or not she showcase it as a skill. Quickly, she thought about the warnings from Finnick concerning Snow's anger towards her stunt back in Four. Perhaps him knowing she had a strength with a trident may actually harm her if he doesn't allow her to have access to a spear.

Even at that, she could make a spear from a tree or something. Isn't that what these trainings were for, anyways; to be resourceful?

The trident would be better to come as a shock for all.

Immediately, she grabbed the spear. It was sleek, and so smooth she would have lost her grip if it weren't for her calloused hands. Finnick had fought Abigail's stylists to keep her callouses for the arena and they went through great lengths to hide them.

Abigail was ever-appreciative, seeing that they completely defiled her in every other way.

The spear had also been a bit heavier than she was used to, which would be difficult when it came to fighting close-combat or even throwing. Abigail needed to make it work, but she had biology working against her and she was getting so nervous her palms were getting sweaty.

Her brown eyes peered back up to the men who all seemed to be getting impatient. She heard heavy sighs and even saw a man checking his pocket watch making her sigh before turning towards the target.

Quickly, she placed herself on the platform to throw. With a deep breath, her brown orbs focused on the dummy's chest before lifting her right arm in the air.

The spear shook in her arm. It didn't feel right, and she couldn't afford to look stupid in front of these men. She put her arm down and regained her composure, knowing these men were annoyed but only choosing to lock in to herself and to Finnick's teachings.