Word count: 964

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The first thing I saw when I opened my eyes was an explosion.

I couldn’t see who had caused it, probably because they were now literally as obliterated as you can possibly get, true to the meaning of the word; I imagined people scraping bits of dead teenager off the ground.

The thought made me shudder.

And then the count down from sixty had already reached three and I couldn’t think straight and my palms were sweating buckets and I just stood there, dumbstruck, when the voice said “Zero” and the gong sounded, until someone jostled my shoulder and pushed me off the plate, rushing off to the cornucopia to acquire his weapons and start killing off the weaklings.

I could tell from the guy’s short stature and strangely perfect running form that it was the male District 1 tribute, Suga. I was lucky that my starting point was near his and that I was from a career district, because I would have been instantly killed otherwise, standing stock-still like I had been.

His push had woken me, my senses were sharp, my legs were ready. I couldn’t quite see all the details yet, as it was unusually far away, but as I ran closer I spied a glint of gold amidst the gore and the fighting and the huge walls of the cornucopia itself, and I was pretty sure that it was a trident. 

Lucky me.

Suga was the one who had initially pulled me into the careers, thinking it obvious that any tribute from 4 should be part of the alliance. But when I entered the room in which they had chosen to convene, I felt so wrong, out of place, an intruder. The games were a way to die brutally and painfully, but at least they were supposed to be a fair way to die brutally and painfully. Big alliances like this and all the hard training career tributes always got beforehand ruined that. Not that not having alliances would make anything less awful about the games.

I chose not to say any of this out loud, however, because the last thing anyone would want to do in this situation was make themselves a target, an enemy to the careers. I played it cool, played along, put in some false support.

I could only hope that none of them would decide to off me early, when they found out I wasn’t going to be of any use to the group.

But hope had failed me once before, and it could definitely fail me again.

I’d hoped not to be drawn from the reaping ball.
“Kim Taehyung.”
I’d hoped someone would volunteer for me, which they didn’t, because no one wanted to stop the mayor’s only son from achieving glory on the battlefield.
“Any volunteers?”
“…”
I’d hoped to be able to say some proper goodbyes to my friends and family before being carted off to the Capitol.
“Greeting time is now over, please exit the room.”
“Good luck, Tae..”

I’d hoped, I’d hoped, I’d hoped, and no one up there had even once delivered.

Tough.

I finally got close to the cornucopia, the metal structure looming over me and casting an intimidating shadow. A sword swung in my direction, but I whipped around and grabbed the trident before it could hit; I blocked the attack with my newfound weapon, pushed the tribute off, then stuck him with its deadly sharp points. I turned away quickly to try to avoid at least some of the guilt.

I could hear people calling my name, and turned towards the source of the commotion. My ‘teammates’ were on the other side of the huge cornucopia, the open side, and were standing near the mouth and facing outwards, fighting against tributes who wanted to get some weapons and supplies for themselves.
I could infer that those who had been inside the cornucopia before were already dead.

At the end of the first day, the five remaining careers (one was already dead, some District 7 idiot had taken an axe to her head) gathered our collective supplies and set up camp around the open side of the cornucopia, laying down thermal sleeping bags and small tents. The artificial sky above lit up with the seal of the Capitol, announcing a surprising fourteen tributes to have been killed in the bloodbath. I whistled, slightly  shocked. That left these four people, me, and just five others… Only a handful of us, really.

I wondered when I’d meet them all, those other five.
I wondered when they’d die.
I wondered what hidden horrors the arena held this year, because so far nothing really special had happened with the terrain or anything. It gave me a creeping, foreboding, suspenseful feeling that I desperately swatted away in my head.

Just before I fell asleep, I thought I might have seen some small glimmer of red staring at our temporary camp from the brush. It seemed to glare at me, but my slowly closing eyes decided that rest was more important than that creepy red light at the moment.

I hoped I’d live to see my family again, to laugh with them on the beach about some stupid joke only we think is funny. I hoped I could one day once again sit down to some simple fare, bread and a good fish to share around the table for dinner, joyous evenings and beautiful mornings out by the open sea.

I also hoped that someone would listen this time, grant me that one wish.

It would be all I’d ever want, everything I could ask for.

Slim chance, though, huh? I told myself, as I drifted off to sleep.