Haymitch Abernathy: The 50th Hunger Games (Un-edited)

9. Private Sessions

The Gamemakers chat loudly among themselves, pouring cup after cup of wine and eating food set up in the stands. Some sit there slouched back bored with a cup held loosely in their hand so the dark red liquid sloshes around. If I had to sit here watching all these demonstrations I would want to go home too. Not wasting any time I go over to one of the weapon stations that has the axes, spears, and more. After avoiding these stations throughout all of training, I now want desperately to stay and try all of them! I must follow my plan to stick to what I know best, the knife.

Choosing one that resembles closely to the one I used in the butchers I head for the fire starting station. Picking up a stick, I begin to use the knife to form a sharp point at the end. This will just be to show them my handy skills; that I can make my own weapons and maybe use this to make a snare -only if I knew how to set one up-. After that is when I plan to show my 'real' knife skills. A booming laugh catches me off guard.

"Is that all you can do, really? Especially for a boy with at least some muscle like yourself?"

I snap my head to the side with eyebrows knit together angrily to stare at the man in a darker purple robe than the rest. He leans all the way forward in his chair trying to control his laughter. His wine from the cup spills drops onto the stands' floor from holding it almost sideways. The ones not paying attention before now contribute to the hysterical amusement when they see the stick. I turn back to what I was doing as I try to ignore them. The longer they continue to laugh, the rowdier it becomes.

I would like to see them be in my place. They sit there enjoying roast pigs and strong wine while I'm down here trying to empress the bastards. My life is in their hands yet they treat what I'm doing as a joke? I want so badly go curse at them, to show them that they laugh now but if one of them were in a fight with me, they wouldn't have a chance since they are so use to their cushiony life. Fury boils inside me causing my face to feel like it's on fire.

I abandon the stick to go put back the knife I was using to get one with a long thin blade along with another that is wider in the blade's height. Sliding the longer knife into the waist of my pants, I make my way to the center of the gymnasium where the dummies are used for practice. The Gamemakers turn dead silent as the first hit echoes off the walls.

In swift motions, I strike every dummy where the heart would be. In front of me, behind, the side; then rotate back to the first dummy. I hit the one in front again then spin behind it to pierce it deeper in the back than what I did to the chests. I start to twist the knife making a circular whole where small shreds of the material fall off.

I hold up the wide knife I have been using in front of my face so I see the now wide awake Gamemakers in the reflection. The lanky bald man that pointed me out has a condone grin while the others have blank expressions. Pulling out my second knife I get to work. I use them both at the same time to slice the dummy creating fine cuts. Rotating around it I work at a fluid speed imagining that I'm at my job filleting meat. When satisfied with the gashes I've made on every inch of the body, for the finally I decapitate it using the larger knife.

My fingers are laced tightly around the handles with trebling hands. A shallow uneven breathing picks up when pondering on what to do. Leave or stand here like an idiot facing away from the people who judge me?

A males voice makes me forget about my thoughts, "You are dismissed." My footsteps are the only thing that makes a sound in the room as I walk back to the table to set the weapons down. I try to keep my breath under control but it's no use. I'm exhausted from what I did even though it took no time at all. Never would I have thought that I could be so focused and precise with a knife. Yes I've had practice at work but this?