The cylinder rose from around me, exposing me to the arena. I was standing in a clearing with the eleven other tributes. I could see a forest in the distance. It reminded me a little of Forks. The announcer declared “Ladies and gentlemen, let the hunger games begin!” The other tributes were poised on their metal circles. Looking around at their faces I realized they were only children. In 60 seconds many of them would be dead, and many others would be murders. I looked around frantically for Edward. I found him crouched on his metal circle a few yards to my right. Something about his stance reminded me of a mountain lion ready to pounce. He met my eyes; his expression was not difficult to interpret. He was scared for me. Perhaps I should have been scared, but when Edward was with me I always felt safe. Edward mouthed “stay” to me. He was coming to protect me, as he always did. Edward stepped of his plate in a swift graceful motion, but he was a moment too early, the gong had not yet rung. I watched, frozen with horror, as my whole reason for living was blown to bits by a land mine. Pieces of him rained down around me, I heard a cannon blast, followed by the ringing of the gong. Tributes raced of their platforms to the cornucopia. I needed to run, I needed to hide from the other tributes but I was catatonic with grief. After a few moments I heard someone approaching from behind me, but couldn’t bring myself to turn around. The tribute grabbed onto my ponytail and yanked my head back exposing my throat. I could feel the cold metal blade against my trachea. The tribute laughed coldly, whispered “like shooting fish in a barrel,” and slid the blade across my throat.
p.s. The terrible writing is an intentional commentary on how Stephanie Meyer sucks.