This is just some random depressing thing I thought up and wrote in about twenty minutes.
Disclaimer: I don't own the Hunger Games.
Just keep smiling.
You wake up in a hospital, clean and healed. They keep you strapped down at first, but when you stop struggling, they let you free. But you're still a prisoner.
Just keep smiling.
Everything's so neat and tidy; no dirt, no grime. No blood. Soft, spotless clothes. There's food, too; mountains of it. More than you could ever eat. It's all so pretty. Cakes and fruit and bread on clean china dishes. You've been hungry for so long that it all seems like a dream.
Just keep smiling.
The stage is so bright; dizzyingly so. Every eye is on you and you alone as they clap and cheer, screaming your name. The crowd is a sea of undulating colors; it makes you more dizzy than the lights. The TV host beckons for you to come over, to sit and talk. You nearly fall on the way because the lights and claps and endless shouts cause you to stumble. They all fall quiet once you sit down and talk. Meaningless words spill from your mouth; you don't know what you're saying because all you can think about is the last time you were on this stage. The others were all alive then. Now they're gone. Only you are left.
Just keep smiling.
The train carries you home only it's not home anymore. The new house is big and beautiful, but it's also empty. There are ghosts at every corner; ghosts that only haunt your mind. The only whisper at you during the day; empty death threats and moans of agony. But at night they attack, showing you image after image of death and destruction. Death you caused. Destruction you cheered at. You wake up sweating every night, the smell of blood in your nostrils and your throat raw from screaming. There's no one there. You want to hide, not just from the ghosts but from the living world as well. But sooner or later they see you; dressed well but skinny from weeks of not having an appetite, shadows under your eyes from nights of fitful sleep punctuated by nightmares.
Just keep smiling.
The spotlight is on you again. The train comes again, carrying you back to the city of dizzying colors and lights. On the way, all you can see are blank, cold stares. Anger. Bitterness. You remember the deaths you saw. The kills you made. They have the right to be angry. You speak to them, and they do not reply. They don't want the apology you cannot give them. They do not want the lies you have to say to them. You don't blame them; you blame yourself.
Just keep smiling.
Now the rainbow-colored people are surrounding you, pressing in and suffocating you with their praise and perfume. They offer you more pretty food, more colorful drinks. It all tastes the same; like dirt and blood. They talk and talk, expecting you to answer. You do but all that comes out of your mouth is an endless stream of nonsensical lies. It doesn't matter; they can't tell the difference. But you can. And in the night you dream of blood and pain. In the morning they cover up the shadows under your eyes with makeup and dress you up again and tell you to smile.
Just keep smiling.
Other people bring you to their homes, make you do things that you'd never do if you had a choice. But you don't have a choice; you haven't for so long that you've forgotten what freedom is. These things you do make you feel dirty. And you wish that you didn't care but for some reason you do. Though there's nothing to live for anymore.
Just keep smiling.
The train carries you back to your empty house full of whispering ghosts. You drift through the dismal days, you go to sleep only to wake with your throat sore and your face wet from crying. There's no such thing as sweets dreams anymore. So every day you go out and buy something you used to scorn. A bottle of liquor. Maybe some drugs and a needle. They dull the dreams. They dull the pain. You stay alone in darkness, using harmful substances to give your life some kind of meaning. It's killing you, but do you care? No.
Because finally you can stop smiling.