Divergent Hunger Games Novels & Stories

It’s as if she feels guilty for being able to eat well when I couldn’t. “The first Reaping after I took the job made me see that there was something very wrong happening with the food. I was not quite old enough for the Reaping but I watched along with everyone else. I saw it then. The girls were underweight. Many of them looked like skeletons while others had little meat on their bones. But what was the oddest was the girls who were from the families of the leaders in the village had a very healthy. They all looked as if they ate plenty and some if even looked as if they ate over the amount that a person should.”

I made him think I believe every word he says and he bought it. I was supposed to be hunting for this man who they call “the white dragon” that led the nightcrawlers. Shrugging it off, I accepted the job in exchange for triple the amount for our monthly allowance. Food is hard enough to get by in these times. I have to admit if it wasn’t for Hunter who took us into his pack we would have starved so I needed to do something about it. It has been weeks but nothing. It’s like they’ve all disappeared or shit like that. And when I heard my daughter ran away because of this pretty boy Hunter I wasted no time and left my post.

Hunger is a monster. It sinks its claws into my gut, gnawing, tearing, devouring me from the inside out. My body is shutting down, drained of strength, stripped of any ounce of power I once had. The Ascendants have made their decision. If I won’t drink blood willingly, they’ll make me suffer for it. They starve me. They drain me. Day after day, I’m strapped down, cold needles piercing my skin, pulling what little life I have left.

The sparse clouds begin to clear revealing a dark sky full of twinkling lights. There's a cleanliness in the air as if a smog had been lifted. I feel hope and excitement course through me. Hope that we can beat this god of the underworld. Hope that happiness will be found by all. “It's not over,” Morgan says, also staring up at the star-filled sky. “We have one last battle to face.” “Travis, are you with us?” I hear the Beta and roll over, sitting up on my knees. Rhett holds the dagger, the stone still pink but has ceased to glow.

We’ll be ok Drea, we’ll be ok. The last words she had spoken to me as there was the screeching of sirens, her bloody hands reaching out for me, my father’s eyes glued shut but hers dilating, fading before my eyes, as I felt drugged against the feeling of pain because nothing could insight more anguish than the glassy look in her eyes, when she stopped moving, breathing, being. “My mother could survive no longer under the tyranny of my father. I did what I had to and I am sorry for the hurt it caused you but it was necessary.”

The idea of another man dominating his mate almost rips out his wolf, let alone a group of men. “I started feeling what it meant to be hungry. Even after I escaped the men that raped me, the hunger didn’t get any better. So I picked pieces of food here and there. The dumps hated to see me coming, as they were the only place where I could find something closest to food.” Heaven chokes up, but she fights back the tears. “Luckily for me, I stumbled upon a scholarship audition poster for the National School of Dance in Small Yule. So I applied. Surviving the school has its own kind of pain, and I won’t like to dive into it.” “No need. You’ve said enough.”

My hunger had reached its limit, and the scent of nourishment overwhelmed my willpower. With trembling hands, I picked up the fork and took a small bite. The flavors exploded on my tongue, satisfying my hunger and awakening a long-forgotten pleasure. The men observed my capitulation with a mix of relief and satisfaction, as if fulfilling their duty to ensure my survival. As the days turned into weeks, this ritual of nourishment and submission became a routine. Each meal brought with it a delicate dance of resistance and acquiescence. I tried to maintain my independence, my spirit unyielding, but the persistent pangs of hunger weakened my resistance.

"The game where everyone loses, the game where there are no winners, only survivors. The game where the only way out is to burn everything down and start over." I stood up, my hand on my stomach, my voice steady, my heart cold. "Then I'll burn it down, I'll burn it all down, and I'll build something new from the ashes."

but somewhere along the way, the numbers had stopped mattering. I had seen hungry children fighting over stale bread. Mothers pretending not to be hungry and giving away their last piece of bread to their children to eat. Old soldiers who had bled for the kingdom sleeping in the mud as if their sacrifice didn’t matter. And now, I was staring at the ashes left behind by those who would rather burn the poor than lose power.

WOLVES SHOULD BURN. The words filled the screen. It was fear. It was hatred. But it was something even worse. Certainty. Something inside me cracked. And in a trembling voice, I whispered, “I need water.” Darius paused and frowned. “You refused to eat, and now you want water?” He turned away. “There’s no water here.” I quickly placed my hands on my stomach. “You said I’m just bait, and you want me dead before Lucien arrives. I don’t think I’ll survive if I don’t drink water right now.”