Daughter of the Games (Sequel to Pregnant in the Games)

Chapter 17: May The Odds...

Training continued for the rest of the day and the day after that. I helped Grey with the throwing knives. She helped me with hand to hand combat. I learned more about hunting, knots, snares, and camouflage. Then, the night after our last training session, we had our private sessions.

Waiting in that room is one of the most terrifying things I've ever experienced. The entire room is completely silent, secretly sizing up the other tributes. When a person leaves, there's this moment where the tension is almost tangible. Then we relax just slightly, until the next tribute is called.

The worst part was when Ivan was called. From that moment on, I didn't feel the moment of relaxation. All I could think of was what Ivan was doing in there. These training sessions are important. Our scores dictate our sponsors. If he doesn't do well, then he may be on his own. Then, when Grey went in, all I could think of was her. Then it was Ni.

"Good luck, Ni," I whispered.

He looked over at me, surprise on his face. Then he composed himself, changing his face into a blank mask.

"Thanks," he replied, the tone in his voice just as stagnant as the look on his face. Then he left, and it was just me in the room.

I looked around me. This is a new arena. I know that. But I still feel the history. For 75 years, a girl from District 12 has sat by herself before the private training. One of those girls was my mom. One of those girls was Katniss. And now it's me.

When they called my name, I made a conscious effort to turn off my thoughts. I knew that if I thought too much, I would terrify myself. If I can let go of myself and let my instincts take over, then maybe i can get a successful score.

But the harder I tried to turn off my thoughts, the more prominent they became. I felt my heart rate and my breathing accelerate as I walked down the hall, getting closer to the door. A Peacekeeper opened the door and ushered me inside. The training center was the same as it had always been, yet suddenly it became repulsive rather than inviting. Every muscle in my body tensed. Each instinct told me to run. I looked to the Peacekeeper.

"Go on, Chris," he said.

I sighed. Apparently the nickname has stuck.

I walked inside the training center. My eyes instantly fell on the observers. Luke sat in the front, a bored look on his face. I felt a chill run over my skin. I closed my eyes and tried to calm my nerves. Relax. Just do what you've been doing. But my body wouldn't listen to my head. I couldn't calm my heartbeat. I couldn't stop the shaking.

"You may start," one of the Capitol people in the observatory room said.

I pulled my eyes away and scanned over the provided weapons. The movement of my eyes made the room start to spin. I stumbled a little, reaching for any hand hold I could find. I ended up landing my hand on the rack of throwing knives. I stared at the knives, took a shuttering breath, and picked one up. The knife almost slipped straight out of my hand; my hands were sweating profusely. I looked to the dummies, which I had thrown the knives into many times over the past two days. Yet, it felt different now. I suddenly imagined the dummy as a real human being, rather than a piece of foam. The foam materialized into human skin. The flat face gained features; big round eyes, small nose, full lips. The dummy grew beautiful blonde hair down to her shoulders.

"Mom," I whispered as I stared at the dummy.

Mom smiled at me. She stood completely still, except for her facial features. I glanced to the knife in my hand, then to the observers. They all stared at me with grim expressions.

You're supposed to be impressing them, remember? My head said to me. I looked back to the dummy, which still looked like my mom. You need to throw the knife.