The Starving Artist: Hunger Games 2015 Contest Entries

The Reaping (Not in Contest)

Note: This is another entry I chose not to do, but wanted to include in this book. Enjoy, and let me know what you think!

I stand on the edge of the town, watching as people go to the building where the Reaping will take place. My hands are shoved into my pockets, and the sun beats down on me, harsh and unforgiving.

I don't want to be here today. Anywhere else would be better than here. There isn't an option, though. If I don't show up, they'll hunt me down. If I want to run, today isn't the day. Disappearing today would be the worst idea ever. Like begging them to discover that I'm gone before they need to.

To run for the forests and build a home there. That's all I have ever wanted since I killed the woman who murdered my parents. For years, I wanted only revenge. I trained savagely, longing for the day when I could kill the insane ex-friend that murdered my parents and tried to kill me.

They died saving me. Their actions gave me enough time to run. Without it, I would've fallen to the woman's blade as well. As it is, I'll never forget my mother's screaming and their tears. I didn't leave like I should've. I stayed and watched from a hidden spot until the woman left. And I remembered her.

She was my first kill.

And last.

Unless the Capital messes it up today.

Killing really messed me up. I've never felt such savage joy when doing something. It satiated me and released a ravening beast that I didn't know existed. The hunger to destroy those who hurt me is strong. Sometimes, I'm not sure if I can control it. If I'm put into situations where I'm threatened, that part of me, that cruel beast, takes over.

I can't say that it's just anger that sparks it. No, it's more than that. It's cool, calculated rage that lies behind that section of my personality. Maybe I'm bipolar or something. I don't know. But I do everything I can to keep myself from ever becoming that killer again.

I push off the lamppost I've been leaning on and shuffle towards the gathering place. My feet drag over the asphalt, and my head drops. My eyes scan the crowd from under my lashes, but mostly, I focus on the ground in front of me.

No one here wants to hurt me. I just know it. Like a sixth sense or something... But I always know when people are lying to me or when they want to hurt me. I sort of feel it deep in my gut. It's weird, but I'm rarely wrong.

Weaving my way through the crowd, I go to stand beside my guardians as we wait for the Peacekeepers to sort us into groups. It's not because I want to. I've never liked them. For a long time, I even hated them for trying to replace my parents. Now, I just avoid them and don't feel anything much. Except maybe hurt because they refuse to understand my pain. They stopped trying to be my parents after nearly two years of struggling. From fourteen years to sixteen, they wouldn't get it, refused to give up.

Until I blew up at them for it and took off. They didn't see me for almost a month. When I finally decided to come back, they had finally accepted the fact that I would never want them to be in my life. That I was stuck in the past, wishing for people who were long gone.

Well, watching your parents die when you're nine does that.

Some small part of me still wishes that they would keep trying. That they would break through the walls I can't seem to lower. I crave love and warmth. I need connections. But the walls keep anyone from connecting to me, and I don't know how to lower them to let others in.

A hand touches my shoulder, and I jump, tensing.

"Azrael? Come on... It's our turn." Eli tugs on my arm.