Closer to Death

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*this book is about the 73rd Hunger Games but will have the same arena and all the same characters as the 74th, except for Katniss and Peeta, who will still be in the 74th*

Toni's POV:

Today was the day of the reaping. The same reaping that took my twin brother, Ben, a year ago. Being 17, I just need to get past this 2 more times, including today, and then I won't have to worry about it ever again.

And then my life will be good. Good family, with my parents and older brother. Good job, working with "defense" ammunitions for the Capitol. Not the most ethical line of work, but a girl's gotta make money.

"As always, ladies first" I heard, breaking me out of my daze, as there was a little part of me that still thought I could get picked like Ben.

"Antoinette Hart" the escort lady spoke.

And my heart stopped. Did I imagine it? There was no way. The probability of me getting chosen was astronomically low. This was a mathematical and statistical irregularity. An anomaly.

Was this some sick scheme because my twin was reaped a year ago? This cannot be happening. The more I think about it, the more I freeze.

"Antoinette Hart?" she questions, clearly impatient.

People I knew looked over to me, sad. People I was close with. People that I've laughed with and bragged to. They knew I wasn't cut out for this. That I wasn't a fighter.

With more and more faces landing on me, I snap out of it and walk up to the stage and shake her hand.

"What a stunning tribute" the woman admires.

I've always been told I don't look like your typical District 3 resident. But honestly, the only thing that my looks have done for me is making it so that I can't have any guy friends without them confessing their love to me.

It's why all my friends are girls.

"Any volunteers" she asks the crowd.

No one responds. Not that I really expected someone to.

I smile through the pain of knowing my possible future of death. My probable future.

"Okay. Now for the boys" the woman says, excitedly.

I know I just said I'm not a fighter, but I really want to punch the excitement out of her face. But given what happened the last time I tried that on someone, I refrain myself.

"I volunteer as tribute" a boy says, almost immediately.

I fight the urge to roll my eyes. Why couldn't there be a female volunteer instead?

And where was this behavior last year, when by brother was sent to his death?

I will never understand why people volunteer for this blood sport.

"Well the protocol is normally that we ask for volunteers after someone is reaped, but seeing as you are ever so eager, come on up."

The boy comes up. As he gets closer, I see that he's a very tall, skinny but strong-looking brunette.

After smirking at me, he precedes to shake hands with the escort.

"Well, introduce yourself then" she implores.

"Lumen Moore, Career" he introduces.

Career. That checks out then. 3 rarely had Careers. Maybe he was rich.

"Wonderful. A career tribute." the woman smiles, as always.

"Let's hear it for your tributes, District 3" she says. "And may the odds be ever in your favor."

I struggle not to roll my eyes. That silly, annoying little phrase. The odds have never really been in District 3's favor, with only two currently living victors, one of which is going insane.

As we leave the stage, I think to myself. Since I'm 17, odds are that I'll be older than most the people there. Older means not only stronger and smarter, but more mature. Less impulsive. Not overly cocky.

Don't get me wrong. I'm not a fighter. But that doesn't mean I'm not a good one. My big brother, Nathan, used to teach me how to hold my own in a fight and use knives, back when I first started being eligible for the reaping at age 12.

And after Ben died, Nathan and dad have been trying to make sure I stay prepared.

Logically speaking, throwing knives are the best choice. Easier to wield and aim than a bow and arrow, yet further range, as it relies more on quick strong throws, rather than slow pulling against resistance. And also less gruesome than a sword or spear. Stronger than a slingshot.

And I don't have to be that good at it. I won't kill anyone unless I make it to the end. Before then, I'll simply hide and survive. Easy.

If only it would actually be easy.

"Hey, gorgeous" the career says smugly at me, knocking me out of my train of thought.

"What?" I ask him, both impatient and aggravated at what his smugness.

"Feisty, I like it. But I suggest you be nicer to me. I'm a career. You'll need my help" he says, putting his hand on my shoulder.

Before he could touch me, I quickly grabbed his hand. I really want to throw his hand off me, but I hold myself back, because he might be right.

"You're right. My mistake, I'm just in a bad mood because I was chosen" I say. And it's true to some extent.

I gently move his hand back to himself and let go of it.

"Of course. Poor thing." he says. "Oh and I came to tell you that they are giving us 5 minutes to say goodbye to our families."

Five minutes? That's so little time. And there's so much to say.

I ran over to the room with my family in it.

"Toni, baby" my mom says, engulfing me in a hug.

"Dad" I cry out, looking over to him with my eyes tearing up.

"Hey, hey, hey. None of that. You're gonna be fine, Toni. Alright? You're smart. You're gonna win. You're gonna come back. And you're gonna live the future you deserve, okay?" he comforts, hugging me.

"You said the same thing to Ben" I sob.

I turn over to my brother Nathan, hugging him.

"Hey. It'll be okay. You remember all that I taught you?" he asks softly.

"Mmhm" I nod into his shoulder.

"Good" he nods back, ending the hug.

"You come back. Okay sis?"

"Okay" I say, sadly smiling. I know it's unlikely I will.

I think we all know it's unlikely.

The door opens. "Time's up."

I bring them all into a group hug. "Bye guys" is the last thing I say, before leaving the room.

I'm a step closer to death.

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