The Month Of June (Hunger Games FanFiction)

Chapter 4... Train Of The Games

After all goodbyes are said and my heart hurts, we get shoved onto a train to the Capital. We wait for our drunken mentor, Haymitch. He walks in, and sits at the table. My eyes bore into him. Dawson just presses his lips together. "Well?" I say impatiently. Haymitch looks up. He arches his eyebrows. "Well what?" he grumbles. "Are you going to offer some advice, or what? You're called mentor for a reason," I growl. He rolls his eyes. I grab a steak knife, and stab it into the table, between his hand and the glass he was reaching for. Haymitch looks up at me angrily. I meet his glare with one of my own. If looks could kill, we'd both be dead.

"If I can hit that picture on the table over there, you train us and be a mentor like you're supposed to do!" I spat. Haymitch leans back and shrugs. "Fine," he replies. Dawson looks at me as I walk to the far side of the room. "It's impossible, you know," Dawson says annoyed. "Shut up, Dawson," I snarl. I pull the knife back, aim, and prepare to throw it. I aimed carefully at the picture frame, filled with pictures of the past Hunger Games. I through the knife, and it hits the picture in the middle.

I look at Haymitch expectantly. He shrugs. "Lucky shot," is all he says. I scowl, pick up another knife, and through it at another picture, hitting it so hard it ends up pinned against the wall. I glare at Haymitch. "Either train us, or that will be you," I snarl, pointing at the picture. He holds his hands up. "Alright, fine. We begin in the morning," he says, reaching for a glass. I scowl, and snatch the glass, setting it beside me, not spilling a drop. "Now, Haymitch!" I snap, trying to keep my temper under control. He looks up at me angrily. "Tomorrow or not at all," he says. I scowl. "Fine!" I snap. I stalk to Haymitch's room, pull a knife, and stick it in the wall so it was definitely noticeable.

I get angry quick, that's all I can say. I walk to my room, and lay on my bed. I closed my eyes, deciding my appetite was ruined. I quickly fell ---------------------TimeSkipTimeSkipTimeSkipTimeSkipTimeSkip--------------------------

I woke with a start, an hand on my throat. I gasped for air, feeling it squeeze. I forced myself to calm down, and wrap my hands around the arm, and shove forward with my feet kicking in the process. I heard a grunt and the sound of feet shuffling.

I shot up, and got into a fighting stance. My hands clenched, and I felt behind me to find my knife, but then I remembered I stuck it in Haymitch's wall.

I silently cursed myself and all of Panem, and waited for the next move to be made.

A fist comes flying towards my face, and I dodge, landing a kick to my attacker's side. I hear a thump, the sound of glass breaking, and a groan. I reach over to the wall, and flick on the light.

I don't know what I was expecting to see, but I certainly wasn't expecting to see Haymitch slumped against my cabinet.

"Haymitch?!" I say in surprise. See, normally I would be apologizing to the person I just pummeled, but this is Haymitch, I'm pretty sure he doesn't have a soul, and, oh yeah, he broke into my freaking room!

"What are you doing in my room?" I snarled. Haymitch dragged himself from the floor. "Training," he sounded muffled. Probably due to the fact I broke his nose. He deserved it, in my defense!

"This is your idea of training? Sneaking into my room when I'm asleep?" I snap. Haymitch rolled his eyes. I scowl. "You're unbelievable," I growled. I ripped open the door, and stalked outside into the living room.
"Hey, what happened?" Dawson asked. "Haymitch happened."
"Ah."
I began muttering under my breath about how rude Haymitch is. I flip on the sofa next to Dawson, but not too close. I have no desire to get to know someone that I might have to kill. I don't want to kill period
But if I have to kill to get home, so be it.