The 65th Hunger Games

Chapter 1-

Hi so this is a book about Finnicks Hunger Games from his P.O.V! It is my second Hunger Games Fanfic. Check out my other book, MockingJay Trapped!

Reading Hint: Whenever you see regular print, it is Finnick when he was 14 in the games. When you see bolded print, it is himself in the present. Hope you enjoy!!

Hi. My name is Finnick Odair...from District 4. You've all heard the story of the Star crossed lovers from district 12. Yeah.. All of that rebellion stuff that finally put an end to the Capitol. Well I have a different story, years before the rebellion...the 65th Hunger Games. My trip to hell.

The world is cold outside, raining. I live in District 4, we are known for the water...but mostly fishing. Its common knowledge. District 4=fishing. So here I am, sitting out in the harsh weather, a rusty metal trident in hand. It was my job to get food for our family. It was always, well you know, fish... fish soup, fish chowder, fish sandwiches, fishsticks, fish pizza...You name it. I was sick of fish. But yet I was still here, staring into a half frozen lake at the break of dawn.

A small trout swam by and I easily stabbed it with my trident. I loved my trident. My dad got it for me when I was 5. He was always giving me fishing lessons and teaching me to lift weights and stuff. When I was old enough, he pressured me to join the football team and I did. Eventually though, to his dismay, I quit. I was into other things...action books, philosophy, girls, and of course still...my trident. I practiced with it every day. And now, I don't mean to brag, but I am pretty handy with it.

I go in for another strike at a fish when I hear the marching. Peacekeepers. Ah yes, the dreaded reaping. It's all my friends and I have been talking about for the past week. Imagine, winning the games, and having all that glory. Your name goes down in history. But killing 23 other innocent people...I had a problem with that part.

I begin to walk back home, 3 fish in hand. One for me, and one for each of my parents.

My mom is up already when I open the stupid creaking wooden door.

"Hi sweetie" She looks worried. I don't ask why though. 1, Im tired and as cold as heck. 2, I already know why. I mean, who wants their kid to be chosen to be sent away to a life or death battle? Certainly not my mother.

"Hey" I grin at her slightly. Her face lightens a little.

"I got something for you" She pulls a golden button up shirt out of a paper bag.

Reaping day clothes.

"Mom why do I have to dress up for a reaping for the Hellish Games?" I grab a knife and begin to skin the small trout.

"Finnick...you'll look nice. Please dont argue. Now when you finish with the fish, go slip it on and show your father." She turns swiftly then looks at me with a motherly glare. "And watch that language!"

I give her a thumbs up and chuckle. For gods sake, I'm 14. You'd think I would be able to say some "adultish" words.

I pull on the too straight gold shirt and glance in my mirror. Ugh, I look like President Snow would've in his teenage days if he were better looking. A shiny, over polished prude.

I drag my feet to my fathers bedroom. Just before I walk in I grab a fistful of the silk and wrinkle it. There, that's a little better.

I turn the handle, push it open and lean against the door way. My father's tall, lean body is sprawled out on his matress. His cloudy colored eyes, a lot like mine, are shut with whisps of grey hair covering them.