The 67th Annual Hunger Games

Prologue

I flung another dart at the target, getting inches away from the bullseye. Denzel's eyes were burning holes in the back of my neck, knowing how desperate I was to get target.

I threw the remaining darts down in rage and they littered across the marble floor of the training dome. Not many children got chosen to work with the academy; who in their right mind would want to? But as seen as our mother was the great victor of the 47th Hunger Games, we were expected to be just like her.

By we I mean myself and my twin brother Albert, older by only several hours. Mother always went on about how she would never have children whenever the games were still around, but one look into my dads soft blue eyes and she was bought, and in the end ended up with four of us.

Albert hated the training twice as much as me. He yearned to be a fisherman just like my father, loving the winding whipping in his soft auburn hair, the same that grew from my head. But he was good, however little he liked to admit it.

As I lent against the wall next to Denzel, Al stepped forward, cracking his knuckled sharply and fixing his gaze on the target. I knew he prefered a sharp knife in his palms, as I my darts, but today he took out a long trident, which glinted against the sun shining through the windows.

With one sharp thrust, the trident flew into the target, smashing right the way through. I looked at Albert to see his reaction, but his face was just the usual emotional gaze as he walked towards me.

"Mother will be expecting us." He said bluntly, glancing nervously at his sweating palms. "You coming, Denzel?"

Denzel nodded, his long golden locks drawn into a ponytail on his head. A slight grin shone on his face as he grinned at me, swanning off with my brother at his side.

I watched the pair of them, before skirting after. It was only a short walk to the harbour, around twenty minutes maximum. Denzel's father worked on the same small fishing boat as mine, and was chosen at a younge age to attend the training program after showing outstanding athletic skills in school. After that, he'd always been close friends with the two of us, and spent most time with us, not that most of the time he had a choice.

I watched as the two boys flung themself off the peer in the vivid distance, and smiled as my fathers fuzzy blonde hair and wind whipped face came it view. I threw myself onto the boat with one graceful jump, and landed near Abraxus, my oldest brother, who was untangling a mountain of rope and fish hooks.

"Come here me girl!" My father said, squeezing me into a bone crushing hug. My father, brother and Denzel's father had been at sea for a few months now. God knows how they survived it in their boat, which was falling to bits. Mother worried the most.

A set of heads bobbed out from next to the boat, who I instantly recognised to be Denzel and Albert. Denzel smiled up at me as I pulled him into the boat, his hands warm and large around mine.

A while later, I got sick of the male company, and along with Walter headed up to victors village, where my mother was.

She never mentioned much about the games, as you understandably wouldn't, but each year, herself and about six other victors from district four head to the capitol, to re-live the games again. My mother was clever and tough, the perfect recipe for a victor, as well as the fact that she's been training her entire life. I didn't think I'd inherited much from my mother except her rough skin, and brutal and sharp personality, which prevented anyone from every forming relationships of any kind with me, and the lust for blood, but instead I got my fathers rusty auburn hair, sharp blue eyes, and caring attitude. My father never found anything to frown at.

It was super warm, especially over the village as it was right in the centre of the district, away from the sea air. I could see mags shuffling from a window in house 1, and Jordie in the house next door, but there was no sign of my mother in her usual spot, watching for us to come home.

When I didn't see her, my heart skipped a beat and I began to speed my pace. Abraxus noticed the sudden change and grabbed my hand, tightening his grip around his rope. I knew it was Xavier.

My youngest brother was thirteen years old, weak and seriously ill. His immune system didn't work properly, so even the smallest cold could kill him. If mother wasn't a victor and couldn't afford medicines and extra blankets, he'd have surely died years ago.

"Mum?" Brax shouted as we walked hurriedly down the hall towards the kitchen. I instantly ran up the stairs to find Xavier, not wanting to know what I could find.

As I pulled back the door, I look at my sleeping brother, curled up under several sheets and blankets, with little tufts of yellow curls poking up. I ran forwards, pulling back to quilts and checking his pulse, his eyes opening weakly as the cold stung his skin.

"Aub'?" He mummered, his pale skin looking cream in the afternoon sunlight.

"Hey." I said, stroking back his hair. I wasn't good at this big sister stuff, it was Albert's job to keep everything totether and care for everyone. "Go back to sleep."

"Tell me the story about the Kraken who eats mermaids." He said more confidently as I tucked the duvets back round his fragile body.

"Xavier was the scariest sea monster to ever cross to Panem's waters..." I began, as Xavier feel back into his pillow and shut his eyes. "Some called him the Kraken, but ..."

"Aubrey!" I heard Brax shout in an urgent tone from downstairs. forcing my to abruptly stop.

I smiled kindly at Xavier, who's eyes had snapped open in alarm at the urgency of Brax's voice, and I laid my hand reassuringly on his thin shoulder.

I dashed down the stairs almost three at a time, until I was in the kitchen. On the floor laid my beautiful mother, her Auburn hair sprawled out in knots across the tiles, intermingled with her gushing blood. On her forehead stood a gaping hole, leaking more blood by the second, turning her hair more red than it originally was.

Brax ran his arms around me, his arms shaking at the touch. Someone had just killed my mother, Celeste Reffnott.

The victors don't always win.