“I’m more than just a piece in their games...”
My name is Peeta Mellark, I’m a young 16 year old boy that lives in District 12. My father owns a bakery and I help my father almost everyday with his work. My father and I work at the bakery a lot. Together, we make bread, cake, bread of cheese and others. I really don't like living here though. This is one of the poorest states of all districts and I'm tired of the Capitol not treating us well. One day, I was outside of my dad's bakery and I saw Katniss, desperate, sad, in the rain. Katniss is a long known person to me. Since I was 5, I've been in love with.. her, but I've been to shy to confess my feelings about what I Feel about her. I'm just waiting a certain moment that I feel that. Katniss was on the rain and I knew that she was starving. So what I did what it felt right and gave her bread. After a couple of days, they were doing a voting that two people from each district, would participate on a game that they call it the Hunger Games. Which is a game that you fight to death with people from other districts to death until there's only one left standing. It had to be a male and a female teenager from each district. Everyone is afraid, worried that if they get picked from that game, they would probably die. Saying bye to their families possibly forever..
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“I volunteer as tribute!” she cries out. I'm really surprised about how much she cares about her sister at a point to volunteer for her in the hunger games. At the other hand, I'm worried about her because I don't want her to get hurt, mostly because I'm in love with her and if anything bad happen to her, it also could mean my end. -"Please be okay." ~I thought to myself. It might as well think about what boy in this tribute will be picked. I must be aware of that too.
As they pick the boy from district 12 that will be in the hunger games, as saw all of the boys paying to god for mercy. They don’t want to lose their family, friends. They want to spend time with our families as we can, they don’t want to be part of this. As the lady from the Capitol picks someone, sweat goes down my neck. I’m shaking and I do not want to be picked.
“Peeta Mellark!” ~ she says. It was me. I am the one picked for the hunger games, mostly known as the death games or blood games. Everyone stared at me. I could see the relief on the people’s faces but also kind of a “Poor him face.” While I’m walking to the stage to be presented to everyone, I’m looking to the ground thinking to myself: “What to do I do now?”. But now for me it’s too late. I’ll have to fight people to death. I don’t what will happen during the game, but I will not let it change me.
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