The 2nd Writer Games: Valentines

Task #1 - Entries (Females)

.: Etsuko Cicarella - District One :.

Kill off some generic randoms. Meet up with allies.

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.: Maxina Blackheart - District Two :.

Did not hand in.

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.: Glitch - District Three :.

“Just Glitch....”

That’s all I’ve ever been really; just Glitch

Abandoned by my parents, no education, no life... My brother kept me safe. We kept each other sane. We spent days together; fooling the shopkeepers and stealing bread and honey... Then he left too.

Everything I ever get close to just.... leaves. I guess you can say I’ve had a glitchy life. A life that’s been neglected and picked to shreds by those so high and mighty that they claim to be in charge... 

Now I’m standing here on this cold metal pedestal, bathing in an artificial sunset, without any sense of how much time may have passed since Reaping Day, when my miserable life was made even worse. I laugh to myself... looking at my life so far - it seems funny to be called “just Glitch,”

I’ve been contemplating how I am going to play this game since the day I was chosen.... Oh... Did I just say “play”? I can’t believe I’m actually looking at this whole thing as if it were a mere board game. It’s not a game, it’s a disgusting spectacle put on by the malevolent people in charge of “the thriving a prosperous Panem.” I don’t want to be another savage beast putting on a show for the snobby citizens of The Capitol; a show that will be forgotten a few weeks from now.

So why is anything I do in this arena worth my effort and time that is oh so precious?

The timer ‘sadly’ falls to an end and I glide aimlessly from my launch pad. The girl from 9 is tripped up by the District 2 girl. The girl from two launches a sword at her victim. The young girl lets out a final blood curdling scream – weakly giving into the desires of the capitol.

 I hear screaming escalate from behind me and suddenly weight is burdening my back.

I collapse to the floor and roll about under the district 13 male. He brings down his elbow on my chest and laughs as though demonically possessed. I slam my palms into his face; almost sure to break his nose. He slips off from on top of me and crawls across the wet floor, his hand holding his nose. I throw my hand between his thighs and clench my grip.

Naturally, he squeals girlishly out in pain.

“Don’t touch me ever again.” I intentionally state as though a command rather than a threat. He chokes and spits in my face, his face screwing in anger.

I feel his warm saliva slowly drip down my cheek, its clammy surface slugging across my skin. Then comes the foul smell; warm and sickly.

I clench my hands and grit my teeth but the anger overwhelms me and grab onto his head. With a sudden and sharp flick of my wrists his neck snaps and hangs limply on his body. 

I stand up, staring at his quiet body. A cold blade spits quickly through the air passed me though its thin silver scraped the surface of my cheek.

In the remaining fit of anger I dive onto the girl who threw the knife; District Two’s Maxina Blackheart, and crush her wrists under my hands. She drops the knives and I crash my feet into her shins, causing her to collide with the hard ground.