𝐊𝐢𝐥𝐥𝐞𝐫𝐬; (𝐂𝐚𝐭𝐨'𝐬 𝐏𝐎𝐕)

𝐏𝐫𝐨𝐥𝐨𝐠𝐮𝐞

𝙿𝚛𝚘𝚕𝚘𝚐𝚞𝚎

I DON'T WANT TO DO THIS. I don't want to volunteer for the games that killed my older brother. But I have to. I have to bring pride to the District. I have to make everyone proud of me. I have to. And they will be proud of me.

I lay in my comfortable bed and sigh, before pushing myself up. It's Reaping day, my final one. I'm eighteen now, and this is the last time I have to go to one. Because this time, I will volunteer. I have to volunteer. It's expected of me too.

The Games are disgusting. Forcing children to slaughter each other like animals, killing each other for survival, is absolutely vile, and I'm going to have to do that to someone, I'm going to have to kill someone.

I'm trained for it. Since a child, I've been trained to be a killer. I've been putting on a facade for a decade. A facade that I want to do this. A mask to hide my true disgust. No one knows. And they can't know, they can't think that I'm weak.

I push a hand through my short blonde hair and step into my bathroom. I look at myself in the mirror. My eyes are tired and my skin is pale. I strip myself out of my pyjamas, throwing them into a hamper and walking into my shower.

I let the cold water cool my body and wash my skin. I brush my teeth and wash my hair before stepping out. I dry myself with a towel and wrap it around my waist.

I go back into my room and grab a grey long sleeved top and button it up. The shirt is tight on my chest but loose against my arms and I put on black trousers. I tuck in the shirt and wrap a belt around my waist.

I can hear a loud siren blaring through the district and sigh, leaving my house. A brunette haired girl does the same and I turn to Clove as she looks at me. "You volunteering?" She asks me and I nod. "Yeah, you?" I ask her and she sighs, nodding her head.

"My parents are forcing me." She says and we walk beside each other. "They want the glory. What about you? What does your dad want?" I give Clove a glance. "He wants me to bring pride to Two." She hums along. "He wasn't here this morning. And I'm glad because he didn't given me one of his lectures." I roll my eyes as I speak.

"Mine were, and gave me a lecture. Saying all 'Clove you have to do this. Imagine all of the glory, the respect we'll have,'." She says in a high voice, mimicking her mother's. I chuckle and we walk into the town square. "I'll see you up there?" Clove asks as she stares at the large stage and I nod. She walks away towards the group of fifteen-year-olds.

I get inline behind my fellow eighteen-year-olds and await my finger to be pricked. "Give me your arm." I hold out my hand and my index finger is pricked and the blood stamped down. "Next." I walk away and go to the section for the older males.

I can hear the quiet chatter of voices that overcomes the silence. Most are excited to be reaped, but they know that I will volunteer. It's an unspoken rule, that the person who excels in the academy will be the one to volunteer, and it's expected of them too.

If a child or anyone under the age of fifteen gets reaped, us — the older ones — will automatically volunteer for them, even if we don't know who they are. It's for the glory, the people of Two only volunteer for the glory it will bring to our district.

I watch as the escort for District Two walks on stage. Peacock feathers surround her body and connect into her dark curly hair. Her face is a paper white and her lips are stained red. Peacock feathers are stuck to the skin around her eyes and she taps the microphone with a clear of her throat.

Danica Laurier smiles fakily, looking over at everyone. "Welcome, welcome." She smiles out with a laugh. "Welcome to the reaping of the Seventy-Fourth Hunger Games." I tune out her words as she goes on to show the same video I've seen in every reaping.

After a few minutes of silence, Danica turns back to the microphone. "Now the time has come for us to select one courageous young man and woman for the honour of representing District Two in the Seventy Fourth Hunger Games." The crowd of us roar at her words.

"As usual, ladies first." She makes her way towards a glass bowl and reaches her hands inside. I turn my gaze from her and look around from Clove. I spot the back of her head and keep my gaze on her. Danica's heals clank on the floor and she moves back to the microphone.

"Arelia Cort." I watch as Clove pushes her way through the group of fifteen year old girls. Her face is blank, she makes it, she makes herself look blank and monotone. "I volunteer as tribute!" She calls out and Danica's face breaks into a grin.

"Come up here, dear." Clove walks forwards, Peacekeepers move behind her, stopping her from turning around. She's signed up, and there is no turning back. Clove makes her way towards the peacock dressed woman and stands beside her.

"What's your name?" Danica tilts the microphone towards the younger girl. "Clove Kentwell." Clove calls out, her voice is piercing and sharp. Danica shudders slightly before smiling. "Now, for the boys." She moves over to the glass bowl and everyone's gaze moves onto me.

She doesn't even pull out the slip and I've already stepped through the crowd. I push my way through, receiving pats on my shoulders and 'congratulations' by boys.

"I volunteer as tribute!"

˓𓄹 ࣪˖ ⋆ ࣪. ˖ ࣪⭑

993 Words

A/N- happy 1 year anniversary to Killers! I hope you guys enjoy this fic.

Make sure you eat and drink today!

-Nightmare