Glimmer had never been the brightest kid in the class. She could never out-do her brothers in training. But she was determined to shine.
The morning of the reaping, her father was hurrying his four children along in order to arrive in the square as early as possible. Two of Glimmer's brothers were too old to be reaped, and one was eighteen, but their father still acted as if they could all be reaped and win the Games if they got there before their neighbors.
Glimmer was ready to volunteer, and she called to mind what her father had said to her when she asked why he liked the Games.
"Patriotism is the willingness to kill and be killed for trivial reasons. Never stop being loyal, Glim. Loyalty and victory go hand in hand." She had been four then. Now, after years of hard work and training, she was ready to serve her country. She would play the game prepared to kill and willing to die.
So when eighteen-year-old Solstice Cherri was called to the stage, Glimmer didn't wait for the escort to ask for volunteers. She raised her hand above the crowd, shouting, "Me! Me! I volunteer!"
Breathless, she climbed the steps and told the escort her name. And soon Marvel volunteered. And they were whisked into the Justice Building.
Goodbyes, trainrides, and Opening Ceremonies pass in a blur. Glimmer only remembers fake smiles, laughter, and small talk with Marvel and the other Careers. Things begin to slow down once training begins.
She swiftly displayed her skills with half-effort, and saved it all for the privacy of her own session. Scoring well didn't surprise her.
Her interview angle was easily determined, and she played it well. The first couple of days in the arena went just as planned. It was when that incorrigible Katniss dropped the nest that things went downhill.
Sure, Glimmer wanted to shine. But not with the eerie, nuclear glow she inherited with the stings. She looked down at her hands, which burned and shone so bright, she could hardly look at them. Then her bow tried to fly away, so she held on tight. But that only made her hands hurt worse.
And then came the blood. It poured out of her nose, mouth, ears, eyes. Soon she was covered in hot, sticky, metallic-scented liquid. She itched everywhere, and couldn't escape. Tremors began to take over her body, and she fell.
Glimmer had fought. She had remained loyal. And in a way, she had had her own victory. Because she died playing.
