Albany Rosewood- District 2 Victor

Chapter 1

I wake up in a cold sweat, gasping for air and screaming. It's not the first time. I have nightmares almost every night, nightmares that wake me up screaming and that remind me of my past.
I am Albany Rosewood. I won the 60th Hunger Games. I fought and killed to survive. I didn't want to. But I had to.
I relive the Hunger Games every night. Every night, I hear the screams of the other tributes as their last seconds tick away. Every night, I see the terror in their eyes just before they die. I wake up screaming every night. The Games ended two years ago, but I never got away from them.
Now, I have to become a mentor in the Hunger Games. As if it wasn't bad enough that I have to watch two young people die every year, now I have to get to know them first. It's the last thing I want to do, but if I don't I will be executed by the Capitol. Nobody is safe from their wrath, not even the victors.
I should be excited to be a mentor. Just like I should have been excited to volunteer for the Games. But I wasn't. It's not in my nature, I never wanted to harm another person. I was forced to, by my aunt and uncle. My parents passed away when I was a baby, and my aunt and uncle raised me.
They had always wanted a child since they couldn't have any of their own. They focused on me entirely and put me in the position so that I could achieve what they most wanted me to. They wanted me to win the Hunger Games and bring honor to our family and our district. In District 2, there is no greater honor.
I was put into a special academy at age five to train for the Games. They taught us survival skills, how to think on our feet, and most of all, combat. We were taught to be vicious and bloodthirsty. District 2 has more victors that any other district, due to the special academies. They weren't actually legal, but since most of the Peacekeepers were from District 2, they didn't do anything to stop it.
I'd never wanted to train, much less be in the Games. But after ten years of intensive training, I excelled not only in combat, but I was highly skilled in survival skills and quick thinking. My aunt and uncle felt that I was ready, and they told me to volunteer. They told me that if I didn't, I would bring shame upon our entire family, though I was only 15 and had two more years to volunteer.
So I did. I was forced into doing the very thing that I hated the most; harming other people. I did what I had to do to survive, and I paid the price. Nightmares and severe paranoia were just a few of the symptoms that came from the Games. The terror and anxiety didn't end when I was pulled out of the arena. Oh no, they had only just begun.