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❝ i say that i hate you ❞
❝ with a smile on my face. ❞
━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━
THE SECOND DAY OFTRAINING IS even more nerve-wrecking as I notice most tributes practising their chosen skill.
My gaze lands on Clove Kentwell, the girl from District 2, as she perfectly hits every target with her knives, with deadly accuracy. I sigh, realising both me and her share the liking for the exact same weapon.
I crave the feeling of my fingers squeezing the hilt of the sharp, and slightly arched blade in my right hand, the precision and squinting of my eyes until I, with as much strength possible, flung the steel, allowing it to penetrate the air, and soon, a human's heart.
Next to her is Glimmer, the girl from 1, practising with her silver bow and arrows, trying desperately to hit the dummy, but failing most of the time.
Finally, Marvel, jabbing his lengthy spear with the help of a male trainer.
The Careers are all extremely talented tributes, of course, but they don't intimidate me. I would be ready to try and take one out of I am required to in that arena. Plus, that would certainly gain me quite a few sponsors.
Now, I peer over at Cato Hadley. I couldn't help but see him more as human now, then a ruthless killing machine, even though we only exchanged a few words last night.
There was something about the furrowing of his brows or the softening of his blue eyes that make him seem more real. Nevertheless, he's still my enemy, and a fierce one at that.
I would plunge my knife into his heart with hesitation if it meant my triumph in the Hunger Games.
I divert my attention and look down at the different berries, trying to remember which ones were poisonous. I mutter against my breath the names of the deadly ones, attempting to remember them as well as possible and training my memory.
While most tributes practised with lethal weapons, I dedicate my time relining my skills about basic survival skills, like lighting a fire or finding food.
However, I'm soon interrupted by a loud thump. I slightly jump as I notice Peeta dramatically falling from the net he was trying to mount. Pity blossoms at my heart as his face contorts into humiliation and anger at failing the task.
I prepare myself to resort back to my occupation when the mocking snickering coming from the pack of Careers fills me with unexpected annoyance. I run over to him and lay my hand onto his shoulder and whisper "Go throw one of those weights. Now", my sentence taking the form of an order.
