Dear Reader,

I don't know what you'll get from this, but I do ask that all criticism on this piece be fair. I'm mostly using this story to revamp my writing skills after a couple of years of inactivity. If you have any suggestions on how I can improve please feel free to comment. Or just comment if you like the story. I hope to fill a few questions that I had about Glimmer as a character, but to also make her a strong as a character who can stand alone character. If this does okay I'll start work on a second chapter ASAP.

Thank you for reading this little forward. As always, I do not own the rights to this franchise or its characters. And this piece is just a little bit of fun.

Xoxo Chelly

Chapter 1: Final Hours

I have never understood how people vied for a chance to die so young. I only hope that I never will. The only thing I am certain of is that it won't be in the games.

I am so close to that small taste of freedom, and it has me hanging off the edge. It's my last hunger games before I am ineligible to compete, or rather, die in a horrid show of gore. Then I will only have to watch from the outskirts in one of the towns official broadcast spots. It's a relief for me, but I'm sure it's more than just a nice thought to all the other 18-year-olds in the other districts. The ones who lives are at risk when they're chosen.

The reaping is pretty much just a formality here in District 1, an annoyance at most. Everyone knows who will be sent into the games beforehand. It's a predetermined fact within the district that whoever has the combined top score for of the academy's survival, weaponry and combat courses are the ones who win the right to volunteer at the reaping. I'm safe from that mess and that's how I like it. I've never even set foot in the academy. Now, I can continue my path of crystal craftsman in peace, like my father. Or maybe, I can be the first from the district to go out and see the other districts. I doubt that would ever happen though. Just as long as I don't end up down by the factories with the cast-offs who failed their apprentice placements, or worse, dead and forgotten within the year.

I know exactly what I need from this life, and the games with all its glamourous gore are not it. It's a simple life but that's all I can expect here. It's not like we get to bring home the luxuries we make.

It's just a couple of hours, then all of that will be mine. At midday, the ceremony will start and be streamed live to the rest of Panem. There the winners will volunteer as the replacement for whoever is drawn out of the bowl. Then the games begin and the victors go to fight and parade for the glory of our beloved District. This year's volunteers seem like they'll put on a good show.

Gem, a girl named for her future. A gem in her own right. I remember her from when we were kids. She was my first friend because our mother's used to be best friends. She will be a star in the Capitol's eyes with her razor-sharp wit that matches the edge of her blade. She's trained for this all her life. Her allure, her cunning, her ability to wield a weapon all inherited from her mother, one of the few female victors in our district. The other one, the boy. He will probably be the district's favourite. Only seventeen, but he far surpassed all the other boys training scores, including those in their final year. That hasn't happened since the 56th games. His name will be remembered for the next couple of years in the minds of the victor hungry parents everywhere. Marvel. Yeah, the marvel of annoyed students and overbearing parents across the District.

I smile to myself as I dress for the ceremony. Neither of those places is mine today, and I couldn't be happier. I have an hour to get ready so I try to hurry because I'll ultimately be inspected and be redressed by my stepmother. These days I don't even bother fighting her. We both want the same thing; for me to move out of the house. It's just that I don't exactly agree with her method of doing so. She believes wholeheartedly in the Capitol's message she was brought up with as a girl. Everyone back then believed that we must all do our best to help repopulate, and the faster we find our husbands the happier we'll be. She thinks that everyone has the potential for some great everlasting love at a young age; despite her first love not working out. In fact, she's surprised I haven't found a man to marry already. I think I understand her sentiments and concerns. After all, I'm born barely a few generations after the near decimation of the entire human population, and how that would leave what survivors there were in a state of mind where regrowth and rebirth were at the forefront of the mind. But now there's something in the air; a change. Of what? I can't say exactly. The ways of today aren't going to be around for long. In fact, I think soon that marriage won't even be thought about till we're nearly twenty-five years old. Or maybe, not at all.

My hope of this dream faded as Gleam poked her nose into the bathroom, and squinted her eyes in assessment. I can feel her discontentment from across the room and I understand exactly what it means. I'm not good enough yet. She wants me to say something. I can't. That means second guessing my own choices. I feel comfortable exactly how I am now. I tell myself that I need finish my apprenticeship, then I will be out of her house. When that happens, I will be able to dress how I want, be who I want to be instead of some doll to dress up for entertainment. 4 more hours and I'll be free of the games. Sixty-four more days then I'm free of this bullshit. I can do that. Pass three hours. Pass a day. Pass a week, a month and another. I breathe in deep, so I can muster the courage to look her in the eye.

"You're presenting yourself like that?" I can hear the mixture of amusement and disappointment in her tone. "How do you ever plan on attracting a boyfriend with that?"

She means well, she means it as a joke. But why does it make me feel so small?

I don't reply and avert my gaze. It's just easier that way. It's easier to do things her way when it comes to beauty. She's one of the few people in her class who made it through the rigorous hair stylist/beauty technician training. She gets to work with Capitol clientele, and on special occasions even gets to travel there! She always tells us of the luxurious lifestyles of her customers. How they live lives of absolute glitz and glamour. It leaves little to the imagination to figure out what the root cause of her idealistic, glamorous life is.

I can hear her lightly sigh as her heels click across the floor. A cascading river of shimmering molten bronze suddenly flows over my shoulder and she puts the matching shoes in my hand.

"You should wear this instead," she whispers in my ear. "Come find me when you're done.

With that, she disappears back into the hall, like some mysteriously campy fairy godmother, and I get redressed.

After a while, I emerge in the deserted living room dressed as she dictated and relief washes over me. Not a soul is in sight. The outfit feels inappropriate for the situation. It's too celebratory, too sensual like I'm going on a dinner date. It doesn't feel like I'm going to say goodbye, it feels like I'm trying to say hello. Only the chosen should be wearing anything like this. It's almost disrespectful to even appear like you're trying upstaging the tributes.

I decide to change and turn on my heel to find something more unassuming to wear only to discover my father standing in the doorway. He's the only man I've ever truly loved and respected in my life. He never gave up. Even when mother vanished. He made it to the top of his niche and made a name for himself. Now everyone wants a piece of his work. All while remaining an active single parent. He did it all so that I could have the comfortable life that we live today. And every day I want to thank him beyond measure because he could've easily let us fall into a black hole of despair after her death.

Now here he stands looking older than his forty-two years of age. I feel guilty for just a second that I was never interested in being a tribute. That I could never pay him back with the riches I could've won. I know that the money will never amount to all that I owe him, to all that we've lost. But maybe it could help ease everything and show him how much I care and appreciate him. It makes me wish. Wish I could make everything okay again. Wish that I could bring my mother back, bring his little girl back. Bring back the easy days so he doesn't have to work so hard for what we have.

"You look nice," He's looking at me like I'm about to fly away, "Is it for the boys or the celebration of your last reaping?"

"Neither," I laugh, and he raises an eyebrow in question. "Gleam picked it out. I have no idea what goes through her head. Maybe it's both?"

He rolls his eyes and laughs warmly. He loves both of us I know that. He doesn't want to choose between us, and I respect that. She makes him truly happy. I try to like her for that, and that alone. He's the only thing I have left of our family and I just want him to be happy. It's hard to accept her as my new mother. Looking at him now I can see him ten years younger with mum standing next to him. Her blonde hair cascading over his broad shoulders as she leans her head on his shoulder. Just as beautiful as the day she disappeared.

The illusion is quickly shattered as the blonde tresses slowly morph into dark waves. Gleam suddenly dissolved into reality, as she kisses him on the cheek with my baby brother cradled in her arms. I look at little Topaz in envy of how blissfully unaware he is to the world. I start thinking of how I could've changed everything that had happened in the past 8 years. How I should've stopped her walking out the door. That won't happen though. You can't change the past, I've learned that lesson time and time again.

"You look like the daughter that I've always wanted!" Gleam beams, "You just need a bit of make-up and hair. After all, it's your last reaping!"

Against all odds, I feel slightly proud of that. I miss being a favourite child. It's not like they intended it to be that way. Topaz is the biological child, so to garner even a single piece of the spotlight is rare for me. I try to hide my smile, but I think my father catches it. I let him keep it, maybe it'll fool him into thinking it was a smile meant for Gleam, and not my need for some missing motherly affection.

Gleam hands Topaz over to father then beckons me to follow her as she bounces out of the room like a giddy little girl. I look to Dad once more before following her invitation of inevitable beautification. As I step into the bathroom she is already at the counter taking out all kinds of colourful powders and tubes of lipsticks. It's a gross understatement to say she has an affliction for the beautiful. Unfortunately for her, these commodities are rare, even in our District. She only uses the collection in 'emergency socialization situations,' and why not? She's naturally blessed for her age.

She runs her fingers across the bottles and settles on various shades of bronze and brown powders, a dark lipstick that is defiantly not natural and two different bottles of black goo. She tilts my head up and brushes foundation across my cheeks. I close my eyes and an image of mom flutters behind them. She's smiling at me in place of Gleam in a moment which should have truly belonged to her. Her kind eyes reassuring me that everything would be okay. Her hugs telling me I'm being silly for thinking I'd be tribute because I hadn't been part of the academy for 2 years, and I hadn't ever needed or wanted to take out Terrace. Not that many people in District 1 ever really need to. I miss her so much, but after 8 years I don't think there's a chance of her coming back from the void.

I am startled from my train of thought by the sudden twist of my body to face the mirror. There standing in front of me is a strangely extenuated version of myself. Her cheeks are sharp, her lips are soft, her eyes are ringed with smoke and molten bronze. She is the embodiment of sex, and I don't know what to think of her. It's a foreign face and makes me uncomfortable. She is not me. Is she? I kind of hate her but I worship her at the same time. I go to touch my face just to make sure it's mine, but it is lightly pushed away before I can reassure myself that I haven't switched bodies. They say the Capitol can do that.

"Don't," Gleam chuckled. "You'll smudge my work."

"That's not me," I whisper into the mirror before turning to Gleam. "That's not me! What happened to my face? My neck? My hair?"

I can see the disappointment in her eyes as the words fly out of my mouth. She just shared something dear to her heart with me and I just shut it down without a thought. I curse myself for hurting her. She's just trying her best to me. At least, I think she is most of the time. I just had to go and ruin this potential stepmother- daughter moment by running my mouth. Dad would kill me if he saw this. I promised I would try with her.

"I didn't mean it like that! It's just different. I look so different." I backtracked.

"You look gorgeous." She replied. "Sometimes I forget that you've never worn makeup before Glimmer. Let alone something so Capitol. Do you want me to do something else? I could try and do something more natural."

We both know that with only an hour before the Reaping. We don't have time so I say it's utter perfection before reminding her that Ruby will be here any minute. She looks more than satisfied with my answer, so I run off to finish off some work in my room before Ruby arrives.

I don't get much time to finish reading about gem quality identification, as Ruby arrives within 10mins of me sitting down. I know it's her without looking. I hear her waltz through the front door with a detached greeting for my family as the clicking of her heels makes her beeline for my room. She probably has a coffee in hand. I smile, she's never had time for anything or one that is in the way of her achieving the task at hand. I guess that's why she's the top of her hairdressing course. You can bet she'll be getting the best of the Capitol knocking at her door in the future.

I put down my book and turn towards the door in preparation, as she glides into the archway heralding her typical greeting of "Hello, Hoe!"

"You're early" I reply, hoping she won't comment on my makeover.

"You're Capitol!" She retorts laughing, "We've both done something new for a change."

"Gleam thought it was a special occasion. You know it is our final year for the reaping."

"What should be OUR year. I bet the guys are cutting themselves up that someone younger got the tribute nomination." She says with disdain. "Still! Gleam is right it is special! It's our last games in the playing field! Here, try my something new."

She hands me the cup of coffee in her hand, and I take a swig. It's not coffee like I know or expect. Usually, she adds chocolate or mint. Not this stuff though. It burns my throat, but not because of the heat. The coffee is ice cold; it's more of a chemical burn. It makes me gag and Ruby laugh.

"What the hell is that?" I splutter

"Grandmama calls it an iced I rush coffee. It's a recipe from before wars." She says taking another swig. "It's got a little bit of liquid confidence. She thinks I don't know where we keep it."

I roll my eyes, but hold my hand out for another swig. It's strong and I know that I'll need it. I hate crowds, they make me feel suffocated. Like I'm about to be lost or crushed under their weight. This way at least I'll be able to stand everything.

After an hour of chatting and drinking the clock tolls, and we pack up our things and head off to the town hall. We rush to the town hall giggling and dodging everyone along the way. I realize in the back of my mind that the coffee may have been a bit too strong, but that voice is quickly diminished by the high-pitched squeal Ruby creates to greet every single person we know.

Face after face flash by till somehow, I'm at the front of the line for our identification check with a group of people from the academy. Everyone is on a high of this being our last reaping and conversation is buzzing around the place about the party after the reaping for the academy seniors. Some of them tell us how they even had pre-reaping drinks like we had. I have no clue who any of them are, but Ruby does. One by one we are called up, but I hardly even notice till it's just down to myself and one of the boys. He's still going on about how he was the in the top five contestants for tribute, and how hard he worked to get there. He's getting too close for comfort and is saying something about how you can tell if a girl is from the academy or not. Above the crowd, I hear the peacekeepers call out for the next person in line. I silently thank them as I try to compose myself enough to appear convincingly sober.

"Hand, please." The peacekeeper orders.

I comply with no resistance. Yet they grab at me as if I was about to flee. In truth, the thought crosses my mind. Just running away and not having to sit through this ceremony. Not just the ceremony, but the safe little life planned out for me. I don't even feel the prick of the needle as they draw the blood needed for identification. A beep goes off on the holo-monitor and my whole life appears on the screen. I briefly see my face flicker and a rolling screen of facts. My full name, my schools, my goals, my parents… my mother. I see her face tainted by heavy red letters that read 'deceased.' It takes my breath away as the peacekeeper shoves me through the gate towards my age sector. She's not dead. Just missing. Her body was never found. I barely have time to process this new information before I spot the boy from before heading towards me.

I sprint into the crowd not thinking to find Ruby or any of the others. I squeeze and spin through the maze of 18-year olds till I'm at the other end of the sector. Dizziness overcomes me and I almost collapse against the velvet ropes that hold us all together. Someone stabilizes me giving me an opportunity to stabilize myself. I lift my head to find Gem staring down at me with concern in her eyes.

"You feeling okay, nugget?" She says as she lets me go. I haven't heard that nickname in years.

"Shouldn't I be the one asking you that? Seen as you know…" I gesture dramatically at the stage.

"Are you drunk?" She smiles like she could use a drink as well.

I nod and laugh. I hardly feel in control of myself at this point. My impulses are running wild. God, she's pretty. I wonder how's she's going to deal with all those Capitol people. They'll be all over her. I'm sure the mentors have already gone over her angle for the pre-game festivities. I wonder who she'll be.

"Let's fix you up, huh?" She offers, and I agree.

She re-pins my hair in place. I can feel her fingers replacing each intricate knot with ease and care. She turns me around and sweeps the flakes of dried mascara from my cheeks, and replaces it. As I look back at her I wonder.

"So how are you really feeling about all of this?"

She hesitates for a second. It's almost as if she's holding back the truth. It's only a tiny second before a smile is plastered back on her face and she's gushing about how honoured she is to be this year's tribute.

We catch up till the roar of Finnius Amberstar's voice booms from the speakers placed all around the town square to warn us to get in position. The cameras will be on in exactly a minute. His voice is like honey, and everyone is fascinated by his smouldering hot appearance. He looks like something straight from the myths of hell. His fiery red hair, the tattoos of black and gold, the dark makeup. All the way down to the way he strides across the stage like he's blackmailing the whole audience with their darkest secrets. He makes you want to follow him even when you're not supposed to. That charisma is intoxicating to everyone as he starts the show.

"Welcome Capitolites! Welcome, District One! Welcome to the start of the 74th Hunger Games! Don't we have a delicious show for you tonight? We're starting here in my favourite little district to start you off. But, as many people here know, I may be impartial…" He purrs. It's like that through all the usual speeches. Little winks, quippets, and smirks that make this whole affair entertaining. I'm so grateful we have an enjoyable escort. Unlike most of the lower districts whose escorts just say their set lines like they're reading straight off the card. But I'll give it to them, their job must be made ten times harder by an unresponsive audience. I guess uncertainty does that to people. I hear Gem softly gasp as he approaches the half-full bowl. It's time to take her place.

"Well, you know what time it is now. It's time for the lucky two tributes to be chosen and shipped off to be treated to the best hospitality we have to offer!" Finnius announces like one of those kids won't die. "Ladies shall we dip into your bowl first?"

His fingers flirt with the edge before dipping deep into the bowl. His hand swirls the names into a whirlpool of paper and ink. We all hold our breath even though we collectively know this means nothing. His hand emerges with a thin sliver of silver, which he gives a small kiss before heading back to the mic. He opens the piece of paper and pauses to read the name. Or build the tension. I don't know but we are all puppets on his string.

"Glimmer Belcourt" He once again purrs. "Come on up here darling."

I feel everyone turn to look at me. I just want to shrink. I don't want to go up there. I didn't even want to be here. I can't go up there, but I must. I look to Gem and mouth see you in 5 minutes as I'm pushed to the stage by excited teens. I hear murmurs swell up around me. People filled with envy for my 5 minutes of fame, people congratulating me, one person even saying that I looked the part. It's a daze, then suddenly I'm on the stage. In front of everyone in the district. Finnius's arm around my waist and mine around his. For the moment he introduces me, everyone knows my name. Then it's over, and I retreat to the back of the stage. From there I watch one of the smaller fourteen-year-old boys get called up. The innocence in his eyes is almost tear-jerking. I can only imagine the moment of fear and pain the parents of kids like him have. The fear he has. He's shaking as he heads over to where I stand. I bring him in as we stand together. I may be years older but this moment we feel the same.

Finnius once more shows us off to the world before cheekily suggesting that surely, we cannot be the only ones after fame and glory. That someone should steal our crowns. Instantly I see Marvel stride up to the stage with the confidence of one thousand kings. He looks Finnius straight in the eye, as he announces his intention. He volunteers with a proud smile and gracious ease, as he claps the kid on the back and sends back into the crowd. The boy almost trips as he rushes to get out of there as soon as possible. A small humble laugh goes through the crowd, as they covet that another of the younger kids has been spared.

But that's it. After that stumble there is silence. We're all waiting for Gem to take her place. Her voice to sing above the rest and say that she would do her mother proud to be a tribute in these games. Everyone is so silent I can hear everyone's breath slow and sync up. This isn't meant to happen. Everyone knows this.

"Where is she?" I harshly whisper to Marvel.

He only shrugs. He's as bewildered as the rest of us. Minutes passed in silence. Everyone in the square is starting to get restless. Whispers erupt in waves, but before anything, the media can capture is noticeable Finnius steps out into the spotlight. His coaled eyes surveying the scene before him.

"Well, well, well Panem. It looks like we have our tributes! And what gorgeous specimens they are! We have to thank their parent for those genes." Finnius beckons us towards him, and grabs both of our hands and thrusts them into the air in celebration. Although this is no time for celebration.

I look across this crowd fellow District One teenagers as it all sinks in. Not one of them volunteered in my place. Not even the other academy girls. Not Ruby. Not anyone. Certainly not Gem. Yet I keep a smile planted on my face. They cannot see me melt down. I must remain strong, and confident in the face of my certain death sentence.

There's no escape. My breath is gone. I don't know what to do. I want to run but there's nowhere to hide. I am burdened by this betrayal to die. Die in front of millions of viewers. I hope they get a good show. I vow to give them one. I want them to see how they killed one of their own. I want them all to drown, burn and die. This rage is all I know at this moment. I'll need to hold onto this bloodlust because now, I am a tribute in the 74th Hunger Games.