I was never popular in my district. I lived alone, besides my mother, who either came home drunk, or didn't come home for days at a time. My father died when I was 4, many blame me for his death, though it was not my fault. He was shot and killed by peacekeepers for taking a loaf of bread from the local bakary, no one knew who to blame his actions on, so they blamed me. They said it was because my family did not have enough money to feed me, so he risked everything to give me a full stomach, but the truth is, I never had a full stomach before. I come from a poor family, my oldest brother, Johnathan, who just turned 23, went off and lived with his wife years ago. They live in a big house, and had enough money to spare, though he seemed to forget about his family, and never donated a penny to us. My mother was a drunk, which is mostly the reason that we are poor. She would use our food money for whiskey, and never worked more then 4 hours a day. I worked over 10.
I started work at the textile factory, making the white uniforms for the peacekeepers that shot my father, when I was only 10. The pay wasn't good, though it was about as much as I could make being only 15 years old by the time I went to the hunger games. When I was reaped, there was no sad faces in the crowd, no one was crying, the only emotion in the crowd was relief from the other families whose daughters did not have to go to their deaths. My district partner, Patrick, was 17, and had a much bigger chance of coming back then I did. We did not talk, and it was clear he had no intention of being my ally.
I was quiet in my interview, there was no angel I could work off of. I was not threatening, though I was not innocent, I was not ugly, though I was not beautiful like Glimmer, the career from district 1. I seemed week, which might have been a good thing.
When I was at the blood bath, I had next to no problem escaping alive. I did not get enough supplies though, only a bag of dried fruits. As I was running towards the woods, I saw Patrick fighting with the giant from 11, which did not prove well for my district partner. I kept running, we were not allies, and I would have got crushed by district 11 anyways. I ran into the woods, I ran for miles, far more then I thought I ever could. As the sun dropped, so did the tempature. I took a rest at the trunk of a tree, and found it almost impossible to get up. I was so tired, I two berries from my small food supply.
I finally gave into the coldness, and made a fire. It was a small fire, though visable in the dark night of the arena. I laid down, huddling by it. I looked up as the capitol anthem played, and watched as the deceased lit up the night sky. It gave me a sick feeling in my stomach, though there was nothing I could do now, there was nothing I could have ever done.
I stayed huddled up, warming by the fire. I was going to put it out in a hour, though I did not get the chance. I heard them coming, and before I could react they were by my small fire, weapons in hand. I saw Glimmer, grasping her sword, the thrist for blood in all of the career pack's eyes. All, execpt Peeta, the boy from district 12. We talked a little during training, though we never decieded on becoming allies, and it looks like he has much better allies anyways. I did not know why he was with the career pack, and there was no time to ask. I only managed to say "Please" before Cato took Glimmer's sword and slashed my stomach, they all laughed and walked away as if killing another kid was an every day thing.
So that leaves me here, bleeding to death in the dirt of the arena. Hearing the taunting laughter o the careers moving further away, saying how stupid I was, making fun of me on live television. I can faintly hear the boy from 2 debating over if they could come back and kill me or not. Please come back, I thought to myself, though I was to weak to say it aloud. I hear foot steps moving towards me, I welcomed them, who ever they were, I do not know yet, though they will be the one to end my suffering.
"I'm sorry" I can hear Peeta whisper under his breath, a single tear falls from his face onto the leaves next to my face. I can not tell him that it's ok, that I forgive him, I can not speak before he slices my throat, relieving me of my pain and hunger, relieving me of my worry and thrist, the canon marks my death, and I fall into a peaceful slumber, where I am with my father and sober mother walking with me through the forest, where Peeta and Patrick play baseball in the distance, where John swims in the lake, where I am happy.
*At post game interview*
Man: There’s been a lot of talk recently about PDs, um Katniss, have you been using performance enhancing drugs?
Katniss: Absolutely not.
Man: Ok, follow up for Peeta; Have you been using performance reducing drugs?