Black Ice (The Hunger Games--Fanfic)

t w o

After no one volunteers for Samuel, we are both taken away from the eyes of the people and cameras, which are broadcasting live to the capitol and other districts.

We are taken into a building. I've never even been in here before and I will never be here again. I am sent into a room by myself, and I sit down and wait.

I don't know what I'm waiting for. But there's nothing else I can do. So in my head, I tell myself I'm waiting for something to happen.

I might be wrong, but no one can read my thoughts. Unless the capitol have spent millions developing a mind reading machine. Which is unlikely but not impossible.

They have the money, nothing ever stops them. If you tried then they would rip you to pieces and you would lose everything. Probably your life too.

I look around the room. I'm not supposed to have done something, am I? I wasn't told to do anything, go anywhere. They just put me in here and said 'wait a minute'.

Is that what they tell everyone? I'll have plenty of minutes to wait when I'm in the arena, waiting for someone with an axe to come around the corner and throw it at my neck. No doubt that they will knock me out in one hit.

I have no idea if anything is actually going to happen here, so I stand up and walk around for a second, before the door opens and in comes my family.

"Mum!" I scream, before wrapping my arms around her neck.

I could've called out to my brother or dad, but I didn't. Instead, something told me to say goodbye to my mum first. I don't know how that she will be okay now that I am going to go. My dad works long hours fishing, and my brother is too young to understand how to care for her. He can barely look after himself.

I feel like all the air has been sucked out of my lungs, as my mother's grasp tightens as she hugs me for longer and whispers words to me. I can barely hear her, but can make out a few of the words.

"Stay safe...look after yourself...you can do it..."

I've never been reliant on my mother, like all of the other girls in my school. I can barely help her eat, but now, the words she comforts me with make up for it all. I realise that these are the words I need. I didn't have to be reliant on her to help me, but to support me. The words mean more to me than anything.

"Stay safe," I mumble back, into her shoulder "look after her, wont you?"

I look up, as I ask my dad and Alex to care for her. They nod, and I know that they will do it. Whether or not they do a good job is unimportant, because I know that they will try.

At this point, I tell myself I'm allowed to start crying. So I do. I give my dad and Alex a hug. I open my mouth to say something to each of them, but the door bursts open, and Peacekeepers run in and drag them out. I hear a thud, as my mother falls onto the floor, just behind the doorway.

I hear her scream. She's hurt. I run to help her, but the door is closed in my face, and at first I think I can still hear her screams, but then I can't hear anything.

I want to tell myself not to panic. What's the worst that could happen? She's dead. I try not to think like that. It's unlikely. But not impossible.

Stop. I shouldn't be worried about death. I'm about to experience it soon. In larger amounts than I'm used to. Then ever before. It needs to stop being a worry-a constant issue. It shouldn't be a problem. I've heard in district twelve that people there are completely deprived of food, and make the majority if their money by mining. People there must die all the time.

They somehow tolerate it. In one way or another. Although, it must bother them to some extent. No one can be completely unaffected by death. Can they?

But I shake all these thoughts off. My mother should be fine. I have really overthought the whole situation to a ridiculous level.

Seconds later, I am taken out of the room and I then board a train. I've never been on a train before. But I've heard about them. Apparently they can move at speeds of up to 200 miles per hour. That's fast. I've been told a bit about these trains. If I was in school tomorrow, I'm sure the weird kid from the fishing net shop would go in and tell me more about them. But I will never go to school again.

I then realise that this part feels like a test to me. A test to remind myself that I have no chance of winning. No chance of survival. The moment that I enter the arena, and The Games begin, I've sealed my fate. I'm going to die.