Voices of the Dead: A Hunger Games FanFiction ©

1. Bruno

I stared into the mirror, analyzing; my cold blue eyes stared back, revealing no emotion. I’d been waiting for this day since I could remember. Today was the day of the reaping. A day where all the work I’d put in over the years would finally come into play. I’d been ranked number one of my year at the Career Academy, a position I’d acquired through hours upon hours of strenuous work.

The P.A. crackled from a corner of my dorm room, “Count down to the reaping starts in ten minutes. All students to the square, I repeat, all students to the square-“ an electronic crackled signified the end of the message.

I quickly ran a hand over my short blonde hair and straightened my shirt. Then, without pause, I left my room. After I’d won the games, I’d never have to return to this place. I’d have the honor of living in the victor’s village.

Since I’d been a child, and I’d been elected to attend the prestigious Career Academy, I’d had little-to no contact with my family. The word family signified nothing in my mind, it didn’t bring the warm, fuzzy connotations it brought to others. A part of me knew that I had one, a familial-unit, but they weren’t the reason I was going to go into the games. The honor would be for me, and only me.

All my life was made up of this; wielding weapons, strategizing, learning to win, to not feel mercy, to become a cold-blooded killer. It was said, through word-of-mouth, that district one’s Career school was one of the stricter academies in the districts. Once you were elected to attend, you were extricated from your family, removed from any source of emotional comfort. You were built to be an emotionless murderer.

For the district, for the honor, for your life; that was the motto here, and I’d taken it to heart. Walking down the hallway, I only vaguely realized the leeway everyone gave me. It was true, I was different from the others. Even for my ‘classic’ career upbringing, I had something more that the others didn’t have. My teachers could see it, and so could everyone else. I didn’t just study our way of life; I’d dedicated every waking moment to it. Anyone could sense, even without an exchange of words, that I was bred to kill.

I filed into the eighteen year old section, then I crossed my arms and waited for the only part that mattered to me; the male reaping.

“And now, for the grand honor of representing District One…” the district escort chirped, running her hand around the glass bowl, “the lucky one shall be, Sparks Eds –“

I cut her off before she could finish, I took a step forward and in a clear voice announced myself, “I volunteer as tribute!” I sauntered up to the stage, not surprised when no one else dared to challenge me for the position; I’d basically wordlessly threatened my whole graduation class of the consequences of going up against me.

“Oh my! How exciting!” exclaimed the escort, eagerly presenting me with a microphone, “Why don’t you share with us your name!”

I stepped up to the podium, facing the audience, “Bruno. Bruno Klum.”

I bathed in the uproar of my people. They raised their fists and applauded vigorously, chanting my name. I didn’t even crack a smile, though inwardly I was filled with jubilation.

I was afterwards escorted to my room, where I didn’t even bother to sit. I stood in the usual at-ease stance they taught at the school, and waited for the time to tick by so I could board the train. It took me by surprise when I actually heard a knock at my door.

“Come in,” I said carefully.

The door creaked slightly and an older, well dressed couple walked in. I cocked my head at them and raised an eyebrow. “You have the wrong room,” I stated; thinking they’d meant to visit the female tribute. “The girl is across the hall.”

The woman shook her head at me and took a step with her arms wide open. “No, this is the right room,” she said.

I took a step back from her embrace, this time frowning, “No,” I responded, “You’re wrong, you must be looking for the other tribute.”

The man walked forward then to stand beside the woman, and it was then that something clicked in my head. I looked at his eyes, blue and cold like my own, the woman, with her golden blonde hair. These people were related to me. He seemed to see the understanding sink into me and he stuck out his hand to shake my own, “Hello, I am Staph. Staph Klum. And this is my wife, Ruby Klum. We are-“

I broke in, nodding as I spoke, “Ah, yes. You are my paternal figures. Hello,” I answered in a clipped voice. I felt awkward; I hadn’t expected them to come at all. They were strangers to me and provided no comfort. Instead, they were rattling me with their sudden appearance. I gave the man’s hand a quick shake and then nodded at the woman, still keeping my distance. “Yes, well thank you for your –ahem- presence here today. I acknowledge your parental obligations have been met, you have seen me off, you may leave when you wish.”

The woman’s eyes seemed to well with unshed tears as she took my face in with her eyes. “Oh Bruno…” she tried to touch my face with her hand but again I stepped back. She bit her lip and glanced at her husband, “I-I can’t-“ her voice broke, “I can’t Staph,” she threw a last look at me and then handed something to the man titled as my father. She left sobbing quietly to herself.

Both I and the older man watched her go. I felt no desire to comfort her. I turned back to him and cocked my head to the side, not understanding what had transpired. “Well then, I suppose you have something else to share with me?” I asked impatiently.

The man stared then rubbed his temples with his hands, his face showing some strange emotion; regret perhaps? Seconds ticked by and I cleared my throat, hoping he’d understand I wanted him out as well. He looked up then and studied me, “I guess it’s almost time for you to go.”

I nodded, then looked pointedly at the clock on the wall, “Yes, you are correct.”

He took a deep breath and then released it. He made no attempt to touch me as the woman had; though I could see he wished to. It was obvious in the way his hands stood awkwardly by his side; half reaching, half restrained. “Bruno, I just want you to know… We love you, and we want you to come back.”

I suppressed a snort. Love? How could they love a child they’d never known? The hypocrisy in his words was infuriating. I breathed deeply, as he had, and then forced a stiff and discomfited smile on my face. “Very well. I concede to your words and accept the implications. You may leave,” I said, motioning to the door with my hand.

The man didn’t leave though. He seemed to be debating with himself before he spoke again. “Do you have a token?” he asked.

I shook my head, “No, there is no need for one. I’ll be back.”

He didn’t seem surprised at my words. “Your mother, she wanted me to give you this,” he held out the object in his hand; a golden chain, “It had been passed on through generations, and we wanted you to take it with you.”

I shook my head quickly, “No thank you.”

A peacekeeper poked his head into the room then and told us our time was up. Seeming to sense that I wouldn’t bend and take the token, the man who was my father, gently placed the chain on the nearby table and watched me.

Seeing as he wouldn’t leave I nodded at the guard. “I’m ready to leave,” I said easily. I didn’t take a second look at the man or the chain. Instead I followed behind the peacekeeper; eager to leave the uncomfortable atmosphere.

There was silence behind me. I sighed in relief and then, again, set my mind to what was really important; the games. As I boarded the train, to my surprise, my mind did wander for an instant. I brushed the thoughts away quickly though; instead watching my reflection in the glass. I looked at my eyes; frosty blue, murder clearly spelled out within them.