A Deadly Game of Chance: A Hunger Games Fan Fiction

Closing my eyes, I washed away every thought in my head and took a deep breath.

Five more days.

Only five days left until the day that ends all days.

It was only five days until the Reaping.

And my name is in twenty-seven times.

“Sophia, look at me.” I opened my eyes and saw Tarrant staring at me, his eyes wide. I groaned and sat up. “What time is it?” I asked, rubbing my still pounding head. Tarrant smiled his cheeky smile, his teeth pearly. “Just gone six. But I just felt the need to wake you up so I could tell you.” I picked up my pillow and smacked him with it. “Six! Seriously Tarrant, not cool!” I complained but we both ended up laughing. I snuggled back down in my duvet and he joined me, giggling. "You giggle worse than Amelia, and she's only six." I teased and he just shrugged his shoulders and continued to grin.

I tried to fall asleep again but I couldn't with Tarrant there and anyway, he was tickling me too much. "Quit it please," I stammered, trying to contain giggles. He stopped and grinned at me, his dimples visible.

We didn't speak for a while and the silence hung around us. Finally Tarrant spoke as he stared up at the ceiling. "Five days." he whispered. "Only five days left. I can't believe how quick this year has gone."

I gulped. I really had hoped that he wouldn't bring the Reaping up. After all, he knew the deadly accuracy of the escort picking a Windling. My brother, two years ago. He was eighteen. Crish had died last in those Games, after his ally, Shaina, had killed him because the Gamemakers had poisoned the river with a mind-control drug; well, at least that is what she told us. He could have won, but he just didn't have the heart to kill her.

Dad, in the 53rd Hunger Games. At least he had won. He managed to cause an avalanche high up in the mountain where the Career Pack were stationed and they fell, one by one. It still haunts him; I can see it in his grey eyes. He will sit, motionless, and I know he is replaying it all in his mind. 

And there was my aunt, Klarrisa. She was a year younger than Dad; she died in the sandstorms of the 52nd Games. Trust the Windling family to be chosen, because our family has been in seventeen different games. Only five had lived to tell the tale.

"I know," I finally said, my voice hoarse and wobbly. Tarrant groaned and looked at me, his eyes glazed with a hopeless look. "Sophia, I am sorry. I didn't think. But listen to me," he said, taking a hold of my hand and squeezing it tight. "I won't let anything bad happen to you, ever. I promise, ma chérie." He called me ma chérie. It was a phrase his mother, Ania used, and she says it means 'My Darling' in a lost language.  He wrapped me in his arms and held me as I calmed down.  "Nothing will happen to you or Amelia or Deina. Ever. Not when I am around." He reassured me as he held me in his arms. "I will protect you Sophia."