Chryseis Upton, 18

Capital Intern

Chryseis Upton felt as if she were made of steel.

Burning, red hot steel.

In a fit on of anger, she left her job - an internship at the Gamemakers office - an hour early.

She'd worked her ass of for that internship. She could no longer go to parties that all her friends insisted on going to - the internship called for perfect attendance, and she couldn't afford to stay at some party for too long.

She couldn't go on shopping dates with her mother or her older sisters - she was too busy filling out a questionnaire, or writing essays and studying for exams.

She had to break up with her long time boyfriend, as he was too much of a distraction for her at the time.

She had to take extra classes and programs in hopes of gaining extra credit.

She cut out all sugar from her diet - she wanted to look her best for her future employers.

She even missed her senior prom - she had an interview with the Head Gamemaker, Zaccheus Ivory, that she had to schedule three months in advance. Of course, he hadn't bothered to actually show up to her interview. Instead, she was met by one of Zaccheus's assistants, as he was in a meeting discussing "urgent matters."

But that was alright. It would all pay off in the end, she told herself numerous times. After months of hard work and an agonizing wait, she would finally be hired as an intern, her dream job, and afterwards, she would get into the college of her dreams, so she could study to become a gamemaker. She would graduate a year early, and with her diploma would come a job offer. Everything would fall into place.

And finally, her hard work had payed off, or so it seemed. The gamemakers had promised to give her a hands-on position in the development of this year's Hunger Games. She was eager to begin. But when she did, however, rather than having a "hands on" position on the development process, as promised, she was given the standard intern roles.

Go fetch coffee for her co-workers.

Send out a message about an upcoming conference concerning this year's games.

Fax the President's advisors in to tell him about how the production was going.

She hadn't learned anything. Barely anyone had bothered to introduce themselves, or even showed her where everything was. It took around two weeks for Zaccheus to properly remember her name, but even now, he could barely manage to pronounce it correctly.

But still, she always wore a fake smile on her face, even when it hurt. She did as she was told, and always repeated quietly to herself when nobody was listening, It will all pay off in the end.

But it wasn't until that conference to discuss how the production for the arena was running that she felt the Zaccheus actually listened to her ideas. She was standing in a corner (there weren't enough chairs to seat everybody, so the interns were forced to stand.), watching as the gamemakers and some associates close to President Snow, discussed the arena and pans for the design and overall structure, which quickly turned into a friendly banter about lord knows what, citing inside jokes, and recalling past games they had worked on together.

Chryseis muttered to herself that the idea for this year's arena had been done already, it was too simple. Of course, one of the gamemakers had overheard her. He was a short, stout man, who had fuchsia hair, thin lips that were coated with a dark purple color, and menacing onyx black eyes. His head snapped around, facing her. For a moment, he stared, unsure whether he should speak up or not.

The man's face was twisted into a scowl. The muscles in Chryseis's stomach clenched together, and she suddenly felt as if she was going to be sick. She could feel the pace pf her breathing grow faster every moment the man stared at her. Inwardly she pleaded with him not to think much of her comment. The both of them knew that a comment such as that could possibly get her fired.

'Please...' she thought. She had come too far to get fired at this point. She had spent countless hours studying, writing and re-writing essays, getting recommendations, and doing volunteer work in order to appear as the perfect intern on her application form. She even had to negotiate with the school board to allow her to graduate high school three months early in order to pursue the internship, as she would be working full time. Not to mention, when she was in school, she had to take a part- time job as a waitress at a local café in order to raise enough money to rent out a small hostel near her workplace, as she wouldn't be able to make the two hour commute to the office every day.

She'd come too far. She'd missed out on so much to get where she was.

The man shook his head, pursing his lips in obvious disapproval.

"Hey girly, you've obviously got an opinion on how we run this. Care to explain?" the man said in a louder, more nasally tone of voice than expected. Chryseis froze. She couldn't move, she couldn't breathe, all she could do was stand there, helplessly. Her attempts at forming words were futile, it almost seemed laughable.

"Go on," Zaccheus said calmly.

Chryseis took a moment to compose herself, before she began to speak.

"Well, Mr. Ivory, although your idea for this year's arena is quite impressive, I just feel that it's been done before. It isn't original enough," as soon as the words began tumbling from her mouth Chryseis found it difficult to stop. She rambled on about her idea for an arena, what she would do, what kind of mutts would be in said arena, and such. It went on for a solid ten minutes, before being interrupted by Zaccheus, who thanked her politely, and told her he would take her ideas into consideration. Chrysies gave a kurt nod, and settled back into her corner, blushing madly.

Of course, she should have known that he would do something like this. Just thinking about it made her want to punch a wall.

When she walked into the main workroom nicknamed "the hive" as it was where the arena was sculpted out and designed routinely, the arena had changed, from a destroyed forest to something that seemed like her arena. When she demanded to know why the arena had been changed, one of the workers explain that Zaccheus had ordered the old one to be destroyed, saying that it was 'too simple'. At that moment, Chryseis had stormed out, yelling all sorts of profanities. It felt like someone was twisting a dagger in her stomach, cutting through flesh and muscle and tissue.

Angry tears brimmed in her eyes, with some rolling down her cheeks. Zaccheus had betrayed her trust. He was using her arena. Her baby. He would receive all the riches, the praise, the attention.

She had worked so hard. She had gone so far. Only for her creation, her vision to be stolen.

No.

She had worked so hard. So she wasn't going to let her arena be stolen, no matter how powerful Zaccheus was. She would secure her spot as the woman behind these games. These games were hers.

Hey people! So yeah, I've decided to give this SYOT a go. *cough* SUBMIT *cough*

But seriously, be sure to submit. Pretty please with rainbows on top? Mmkay.

The guidelines and form are on my profile, so be sure to tell your friends and everything.

Oh, and btw if I owned the Hunger Games, Finnick Odair would still be with us *sadface*

Mwah!

~Sam