MPHFPC ➵ The Hunger Games AU (DISCONTINUED)

Chapter Five

.☆ POV- Enoch

I sat on my bed. Stared at the wall. Sighed. Moaned a bit. Bit back whines, closed out tears. How'd I end up here? Must've messed up pretty bad if I was sent to the Hunger Games. Would my parents miss me? My schoolmates? Probably not. If they didn't flat-out ignore me, they picked at me. Toyed with my feelings. My mother especially liked to do this. I could tell she didn't mean to, but she got mad with me a lot. Complained about me, my tone, how I spoke to her. No matter how much I blocked out my negative feelings, she seemed to form my happy words into monsters. And whenever she saw a monster, she'd say, "Stop that tone with me" or "Watch your attitude" and leave. It shouldn't hurt. But it did.

I didn't really feel like having emotions. Maybe I was just a shell of a human, my emotions washed away. My mind somewhere else.

I hated being trapped in my thoughts like this. I rolled over and groaned, cursing my turning thoughts.

At least we'd had work to do in District 11. Not just sitting around, thoughts ringing in our heads.

Dinner was over. Bedtime was next, or something. I went back to being a shell of a human body. A robot.

I told the robot to go to sleep, from wherever I was, somewhere far away.

It obeyed.

.☆ POV- Jacob

Ow. Shoulders being squeezed. I felt my brain fall in sync with my body at last as I snapped into reality. Someone- no, Miss Peregrine- was shaking me awake.

"Ah! Mr. Portman, you're finally awake! Today will be busy; I suggest you meet me in the kitchen as quickly as you might." Mr. Portman. Me. Right. I'd never been called that in my whole District 12 life, but Miss Peregrine (not Alma) was very keen on manners.

I yawned, stretching as she stepped away from the bed. "Yes, ma'am." And with that, I slogged lazily over to my wardrobe to retrieve some clothes. I sorted through them, weighing each outfit in my hands, hearing the door shut as Miss Peregrine left. Sadly, I was looking forward to the arena. Ever since my grandfather died in the Hunger Games, nightmares have eaten at the raw wounds leftover from his presence. I missed him, a lot. I wasn't sure if he'd be proud of me now. He'd probably be prouder if I was being mindful and actually listening to Miss Peregrine.

So I threw on some random clothes and sprinted down the hall. The clothes were nice- comfortable yet fancy, and overall practical. Not something one would expect from the Capitol. But I made the most of them sparing me this time, and seated myself at the table, straight across from Miss Peregrine. "What're we doing today?" I decided to throw the question out there before things got weird. I just wanted to train, and get strong, and maybe even not die. Preferably not die.

"Yes, yes, all in good time." She smiled. "Would you care for any drink?"

"No, I just... didn't you say this was urgent?"

"I said nothing of the sort. But, I suppose you're right. Let's get right to the point." She breathed deeply, as though this information was top secret material for my ears only. "Well, today you'll meet your stylists." No duh. I knew it was just my patience being short, but I was growing frustrated. Her slow way of talking made my insides want to fold inside out. Seriously, my life along with 11 others were on the line. And the other tribute, Fiona. Where was she?

"What about Fiona? Where's she off to?" I ask.

"I've already told her. She's ready to go. Prepare yourself, and we can leave shortly. Be brisk, and we can make a good first impression." She sighed shortly.

A good first impression.

Yeah, right.