Here's the first chapter of my new story ! I think everything will be in Clove's POV but we never know ;)

Hope you'll enjoy it !

Clove POV

I wake up calm on the Reaping morning. The house is quiet, really quiet in fact. I guess Dad and Kar must be out. They never bother with me anyway. I just get up and dress quickly. Today is the last time I practice at home, tonight I will be on my way to the Capitol, to the Hunger Games. To my chance of proving I'm neither a fragile doll nor a little innocent child you have to take care of. I've been training for six years, since I'm eight. Since my older brother failed in his attempt of entering the Games.

My father has always been very fond of the Games. He calls it "his little pleasure". Having a son who would volunteer and win was the achievement of his whole life. Not that we need money, as a senior Peacekeeper, Dad earns way enough to keep the three of us away from hunger and poverty. But the glory, having the all Panem screaming his child's name, that was more than a dream, that was the point of his life. He trained my brother until his twelve's. I was just a baby when he hired someone to learn Kar how to use a sword as well as bows and arrows and how to kill. Until he was eighteen, he spent his days practicing, sweating in our basement to be able to win. And finally, his time came. He was ready to go, ready to success. And he missed his chance. Kar has always had a slow mind. He didn't volunteerd soon enough and somebody took his place. Dad has never been able to get over it. His baby, the boy he had raised on purpose to win the Games would never compete. And so I watched him sink into depression, sink into madness. He never talks to anyone, except Kar. Though he's the reason of his state, Dad has never been able to get mad at him. Even when we were just kids, I was always the one to blame, always the one who disturbed and was never in the right place.

- But now it's over, I mutter to myself.

I lift my mattress up without any difficulty and grab the set of knives I hid there for years ans silently make my way outside the house. I go down to the basement Kar's old training center. No one hardy comes here since his fail.

I pull a straw dummy all the way across the room and step back of about ten feet and face it again. Opening my kit, I choose a small sharp knife, my favorite, and stick all the remaining one in the belt I made for my special training.

Breathe, I tell myself.

I focus on my beating heart, sending blood all over my veins. Closing my eyelids, I can see the pulse of it, the dark red fluid making its way to my brain.

And suddenly I open my eyes and throw the first knife. I do not wait to see it strike the target and go on until there is none of my weapons left. They all hit the dummy, right in the chest except one, which made it to the left arm. I draw it out of the straw with rage. I never miss. I almost run until I reach the opposite side of the room and face the brick wall. Without thinking more, I turn back and scream in frustration as the blade flies to the dummy's heart.

- Bull's eye, I grin.

Here, Peacekeepers don't need to check everyone is here. As a Career district, no one would miss that, he selection of our tributes and certainly of our future winner. Excitement is running through my veins and I can hardly stand the Mayor's speech and the reading of all past victors. We know them all by heart, without even trying. In District 2, the Hunger Games are a real event, the greatest of the whole year.

"I can't wait to see my name on the list" I think.

I located Dad into the Peacekeeper's crowd behind the stage. I can't wait to see his face when his little girl will bring glory to the family instead of his heavy son. I will upstage him, more than anyone could imagine. If he's stronger, I'm the fastest and the smartest of us both.

Eventually our escort, Ulia, a green-hair woman with pale skin, steps in front of the bowl.

Not now Clove, not now

She claps a little her manicured hands before playing with the papers inside of the glass ball.

Not now Clove, not now

She drags a paper out of it, a wide smile across her face.

Not now Clove, not now

She clears her throat and open her bright pink lips …

- I volunteer !

Gosh, I wish my voice didn't sound so silly.

I step forward, making my way out the fourteen-years-old corner. Everyone seems astonished. I bet they think I'm stupid, arrogant and that I won't last a day. If only they knew.

- I'm Clove Grisham. And I volunteer as your tribute.

- That's perfect Honey! Absolutely perfect! she screams, clapping her hand again.

Did she just call me "Honey"? I feel the urge of stabbing her, right here right now, but I just stare at her white face with a grin.

- Lovely! Time for the boys, she says, insisting on the last word. Maybe she tries to make it sound mysterious. Anyway, she's ridiculous.

I don't event pay attention when the boy volunteers. No wonder, he's a huge career boy, muscular with short blond hair. He's quite attractive, I bet all the seventeen years old girls fancy about him. He hardly smiles when climbing onto the stage.

We shake hands and he barely looks at me. Don't underestimate me I think. I press harshly his hand into mine, sinking my nails onto the back of his large hand. His glance is almost surprised while he reports his attention on me but he manages to make it look annoyed. I know he's judging me, right now. I smile for the camera but my eyes say it all.

I will kill you.

Here it is ! Any questions ? Feel free to ask :)