Chapter Fifteen:
Cyra's POV
It was finally my turn to show the Gamemakers my skills. Or so that's what they thought I was doing...
I skipped into the training room and reached for a knife on the shelf. I picked it up, balancing it in my hands gently.
I arched my back and prepared to throw, and then I sat down on the ground.
I sat there, still as a stone.
"Mrs. Wilson?" Frost snapped from his high table.
"DON'T CALL ME THAT!!" I screeched, throwing my hands over my ears to ignore him.
He rolled his eyes. "Are you going to do anything?"
I gave him a smile, but didn't answer the question. I continued to sit.
Frost was growing angry. I could tell as his pale face had turned a dark shade of red. Someone was defying him, and he didn't like that. Excellent. Everything was going as planned.
After about thirty minutes of sitting, they brought in some Peacekeepers to take me out of the room.
"Oh!" I laughed suddenly. "You wanna see something?" I took the knife from my hands and threw it through a Peacekeeper's neck.
"SEE!" I laughed. "I can kill people!! I mean, that's what this stupid thing is about isn't it?"
Frost folded his hands, clearly trying to control his bubbling anger.
"GET. OUT."
I nodded nicely and skipped from the room, taking the bloody knife from the dead Peacekeeper's neck and throwing it at Frost.
It landed in his leg, causing him to shout through his pain, "YOU GET A NEGATIVE TWELVE POINT FIVE!!"
Eh, it was expected.
I shook my shoulders and did a back-flip out of the room.
YOU ARE READING
Breaking Down Bridges ▸ Hunger Games
Fanfiction[SEQUEL TO 'BEHIND THOSE VIOLET EYES'] It is said that once one is crowned victor of the Hunger Games, they never have to return to the arena. Every twenty-five years, there is a change in the Games for that year only. These special years are called...
