Not Just Your Toy (153rd Hunger Games)

A fanfiction of mine, in-progress.

Prologue= Of course, they're still in action after 153 years; everyone's best efforts, and life goes on as normal. Normal being constantly doubtful that you'll live another year, for most of us in Panem, but not for me. Living in uptown District 2, I've always been comfortable with myself, learning skills I might need - like knife-throwing, and stealth, both of which I think my prowess at is commendable. One of the only problems here is that people clamour to volunteer for the Games - if you don't want to compete there's almost always someone who does - last year the monstrous boy who volunteered didn't let the escort touch a single slip of paper in that bowl. We're very much in the Capitol's pocket, but we're well off for it; not like District 12, where they're poor and undernourished, and when a reaping occurs you could literally hear the crickets.

Now, I'm not your typical sob story - I don't have a family member to volunteer for or fawn over and coddle, or whisper sweet nothings to. Who would need that, anyway? Apathetic as I am, it seems to me to be little more than a burden. Two people a year doesn't seem like a huge sacrifice for our food and riches, and our masonry work is our trade-off for the rest of the year. It's not unreasonable, but people still protest about it - in my opinion, it's merely a waste of their own breath, climbing this high up the Capitol's risky mountain slope. Protest against it just a little more, darling, and the rock may crumble away under your feet. That's why a lot of people hold their tongue. and you should too. Even the grace period met its end when Katniss Everdeen was tried and executed by a new President twenty years after her victory - and who was this new President?