Stay Alive (A Hunger Games Fanfic)

Chapter 3

Morning comes and my stomach growls loudly. I groan to myself. Why didn't I eat dinner? And then I remember. I'm in the Hunger Games. Along with Eloise, Lon, and Maysilee. No wonder I wasn't hungry.

I debate whether to shower or not, but then I think that my stylist will make me shower anyway, and do I care what Effie or anyone else thinks if I smell bad? No. So I don't.

I ruffle through my sandy hair with my hands quickly and head out to breakfast. As I reach the dining room, Effie smiles at me tautly, but I can tell she's making an effort. She doesn't like me, and I don't like her. Eloise and Maysilee are sitting at the table also, but the other boy isn't there.

"Do you know where Lon is?" Effie asks me.

"How should I know?" I snap back.

She doesn't respond, so I gruffly sit myself down in the chair next to Maysilee. Lon is probably sulking in his room or trying to shut himself out from the world. I don't blame him, it actually doesn't sound like a bad idea. But I'm hungry. Breakfast comes served to us by people dressed in white robes. I've noticed none of them has said anything to anyone. They're probably disgusted by some scrawny District 12 dogs like us, coming from the Capitol and all.

"Well, tomorrow we will be in the Capitol!" Effie says cheerily.

No one responds to her. I'm pretty sure that Maysilee and Eloise are not excited to be in the Capitol either, because it means we are closer to our deaths. We eat breakfast in silence, which consists of eggs, bacon, and a warm biscuit with butter melted on it. There's also a dark brown drink that I sip hesitantly, and almost immediately like it. It's bitter but smooth and creamy.

"What is this?" I ask, pointing to the drink.

"Coffee. The best kind. It's from the Capitol, of course," says Effie across from me.

"Of course," I mock her tone. I pretend not to like it, but end up finishing the cup off. When breakfast is over, I decide to go to my room and think. I need to, after all, I have to have a game plan when I get thrown into the arena.

I open the large wooden door and plop down onto the bed and sigh. I almost start crying. But I'm Haymitch, and I don't want anyone to think I'm weak, so I don't. Why did it have to be me? Why do these stupid Games have to exist anyway? What point do they prove? My mom is probably getting physically sick from her anxiety. I don't even know if my father cares about me anymore. Does he even know that his son got chosen to be in the Hunger Games? Who may never return? Would he cheer me on, or not give it a second thought?

The Capitol has these games for some reason. It's to prove they're in control, that they can take our children and kill them in a way that's justifiable to the public. The Capitol needs them to show us that if we try to revolt again, we'll end up in the dumps, again. Like District 13, which is now a pile of ash. There's got to be some way to outsmart them. To show them that they're not in control of me.

But I just don't know what it is.

There has to be SOMETHING. I'm on my way to the Capitol. I'll probably be there by this time tomorrow, preparing to ride out into oblivion on a chariot.

One thing's for sure though. I'll come into the arena prepared. Prepared to win.