Sharks and M I N N O E S(ems)

Milen Roxen

My head is spinning from tiredness. Today had been another boring ass long day of career training. I wish they let up a bit. I mean I already knew everything they had to "teach" me. Knives, check. Swords, check. Murdering little kids, check. I mean, what else can the trainers teach me? Also, they think I can't be responsible yet and they won't even let me practice by myself. It's so insanely infuriating how they have to supervise me as my knives whistle through the air and pierce the fake dummys' heads and send out spurts of red, obviously fake blood, in the career training center. Maybe if I was using a blunt object I would understand their supervision. Last time I tried to use a blunt object it went a little something like this:

I am a bored twelve year old. I have taken naturally to all the career training I had been presented with so far. I roll my eyes as the trainers present me with knives and they fly through the air quickly. That was just plain easy. Then, the trainers presented me with a heavy club. I struggle to lift it up, and that seems to give the career trainers a bit of amusement. I just want to be able to knock their heads in for laughing at me. Instead I try once more to lift the heavy object that was much heavier than regular wood and heavier than any of the stupid swords I have had to lift in the same training center.

After a few minutes I finally manage to lift the club up towards my waist, and I stumble awkwardly towards a dummy. I swing as hard as my then small arms could, and I think I have destroyed the dummy completely with the amount of force I had put into the blow, but when I open my previously closed eyes I see that the club was lying on the ground a few feet from the dummy, it's leg partially dented a small bit. My eyes narrow as the jeers and laughter of the career trainers reach my ears.

As you can see, even I am not perfect at everything which is unfathomable. I know, but it happened. I am still quite bad at using any blunt object. It seems that I just can't bring my arms to lifting them for no reason I can identify with ease as I normally can.

My door swings open and I barely notice my arms in front of me doing it. They are aching so much. I move as if I am a zombie towards my bed and I flop down into it after closing my door weakly. I let myself sink into my covers before I hear a knock on my door. Fuck. I was about to fall asleep too. I think to myself. "Who is it?" I call out angrily towards my door.

The door swings open and in a flash of light... I wake up. I am not at my house. I am not anywhere near a place I should sleep in fact. I actually must have fallen asleep standing up in the middle of the swords station while no trainers had seen me. I shrugged. They wouldn't have cared if I had fallen and gotten cut on all those sharp pointy objects though. I'm just another generic career who is completely, fucking, awesome no matter what my boring old sister did back in whatever hunger games that made her die and shame the family name of Roxen.

I decide it is time to sneak away from the boring career lesson to stop my eyes from dropping. I start to inch towards the door, and then as the trainer's backs are turned, I make a break for it. I make it into daylight. Into the bright light of day. I can already smell the ocean from here. I relax in the breeze that was blowing from the ocean as I walk calmly in that direction.