The Hunger Games- What If's (Fan Fiction)

Chapter Twenty-Five

   I brush my hair behind my shoulders and walk out of the room I just changed in. I take the elevator down to the training center, where Haymitch said he will be waiting.

   I watch the other floors go by slowly, all of the Avox's going by to various places and various speeds. I wonder what it would be like, to be an Avox. I wonder if it would be humiliating. Then again, maybe I would be proud, since I stood up for whatever reason I was put in that position. I don't know. I'm pretty sure that they're beaten, or at the very least not treated well at all.

   I arrive at my destination quickly, and I make my way down the corridor leading to the Training Center. The clothes are familiarly itchy, and fit in all the spots they used to, a little tight in the shoudler blades and little loose at the ankles. Instantly, I see Haymitch in leaning up against one of the practice dummies. However, I don't see any Peacekeepers, Gamemakers, of even Atala, the head trainer.

   Atala not being here is especially odd, since she was the ever-present being in the room who appeared to never enter nor leave the Training Center, the exception being the private sessions. However, I always thought that somehow, she managed to stay in the room to watch the private sessions. Though it might seem impossible, I'm sure that she could have somehow managed it.

   I walk over to Haymitch quietly. Since nobody else is in here, I can assume that we aren't actually supposed to be in here, technically. Then again, Haymitch never follows rules, so it won't surprise me if we're "caught" and Haymitch pleads ignorance. Most of the time, that works in his favor, since no one really wants to deal with him, they just let it slide. I'm not sure if that will work here in the Capitol, though. The Peacekeepers here are some of the strictest when it comes to all of the tributes being together.

   "Hey there, stranger," Haymitch mutters as I approach.

   "I'm ready," I say.

   Haymitch stares at me for a moment. "I can see that. Turn around."

   I turn around, but not before a moments' hesitation.

   "I saw that. You hesitated." I don't know if that's a good or bad thing, based on the tone he uses.

   "And. . . .?"

   "Well, do you think that's good or bad?"

   "I hate it when people question me."

   "Well then don't question yourself."

   Haymitch takes a step closer to me, I can feel him behind me. I feel a small pressure in my back. It feels like Haymitch is poking me.

   "There. You're dead. Congratulations, she beat you just like that," Haymitch walks backwards and leans up against the dummy again. I turn around.

   "No. I'm not. I'm here right now Haymitch, and you're here to. You told me that I was going to train, and that's what I'm planning on doing. I don't want to play stupid games. I'm sick of playing games!" I can feel my voice slowly rising to a shout.

   "Well you're here now, sweetie, and you're here to play games. That's all this is, you got that? Don't let me hear your voice again," Haymitch tells me quietly, through gritted teeth.

   I nod.

   "Good. Now, you're going to start by running. Go. Now. Until I tell you to stop."

   So I run. There's no set place for really, truly running besides the machines they have, so I just run as close to the walls as I can get. For a while, about ten minutes, I'm fine. Then Haymitch shouts:

   "Faster!"

   So I go faster.

   That's about when this little pinprick in my side starts to hurt. It won't go away; it's like someone stuck a needle in my side and it went so far and so deep that now I can't get it out. I clutch my side for half a lap where Haymitch can't see, and then I let go.