A/N- This was written for the Starvation prompt "Envy". If you haven't been to the forum, you should check it out. It's one of the THG forums on this website. If you're debating about whether or not to write a story for the monthly prompt, do it! It's a lot of fun.
Thanks to Laeve for being an awesome beta!
It disgusted me, really. How could anyone have eyes for Katniss Everdeen, to start? And Peeta didn't just like her he was positively smitten. Yes, disgusting was the only word for it. What made it worse was that whatever she had, I wanted it desperately.
How could anyone look away from my face? I don't know. That part of me, at least, is perfect. Logically, he should have been blinded by me. Yet somehow, she was the only one he saw. As he muttered in his sleep (probably her name, I thought with disgust), jealousy clenched in my stomach.
He wasn't really my type, too sweet and innocent to be much fun, but I still wanted him for my own. As soon as he pulled that stunt during the interviews I decided he would be mine, if only to spite the idiot with the eleven. But no matter how I tried to seduce him, he looked away. It was impossible. I, Glimmer Radican, have never been presented with something that I wanted but could not have. I have never been jealous. I have never been second best. Now I have lost to Katniss Everdeen.
How could this happen? It makes no sense. I step back for a moment. What does she have that I do not?
She is strong and brave. Katniss Everdeen is a fighter. So? So am I. She has… whatever it was that got her an eleven, but I myself snagged a nine. I can slice a man's head off with one swing of a sword. I can throw a knife and hit a bull's eye from the other side of the room. I can take a Peacekeeper in hand-to-hand combat. No, he does not love Katniss because she's strong.
She is fearless, knows what she wants. Katniss, whatever else I can and do say about her, has a fierce devotion to her pet causes. But do I lack bravery? Conviction? Initiative? No. After all, aren't I standing here? Aren't I fighting for my life in the Hunger Games?
She is not bad looking. Really, I wouldn't have paid her much attention had I passed her in the streets. Of course, with the help of her genius stylist she is radiant, but so am I. Perhaps my stylist, Anona, doesn't have his creativity, but she had much more to work with. Katniss Everdeen was certainly memorable, but I was just as beautiful. Not only that, but I am always beautiful, while she is usually plain. No, it can't be her beauty Peeta wanted.
What is the difference between the two of us? We are both just strong, not unattractive, brave females. Which is when it sneaks into my stomach, faster than I would have expected.
I am a strong, beautiful, brave female. In short, I am a Career girl like the dozens and dozens who came before me, and the dozens and dozens who will come after. I am a Career, and… what else?
What else am I?
Am I anything else? Am I anything more?
Something slides down the walls of my stomach, a sick and icy fear. I shove it away. Of course I'm more than that. I mean, look at me! I'm gorgeous, I'm- I'm- I'm…
I'm nothing, am I?
I take a slow breath. Am I, Glimmer Radican, no more than my pretty face and my training? It's a sickening thought, but the more deeply I consider it, the more true it seems.
So that's it, then. That's the reason I lost to Katniss Everdeen. I am nothing, a non-person, a living doll. And Katniss is not.
My nails dig into my legs. I'm not used to envying someone like this. Although, I guess I never before thought there was a single thing to envy. I thought I had everything, but I have been proven wrong.
Katniss is… so real, so present. She has such strong ties to this world and its passions. I, on the other hand, am empty.
Suddenly, a panicked need to survive erupts through my stomach, digging its hot sharp nails into my gut. Every piece of me tenses. I can't die anymore. Before, death was not an option, but certainly nothing to be feared. After all, I am a Career. We're taught never to have fear, never to doubt that we will win. Now, however, the idea that I might die here looms over my head, almost possessing me.
What do I have to live for? Nothing, which is exactly why I can't let myself lose now. I cannot die as nothing.
Almost as soon as the desire burns through me, the world explodes around me. It's not so impressive as the years tributes have panicked and fallen or jumped off their platforms, but there is still no word other than "explosion" to describe it. For a moment, I can't figure out what's happening. There's a yellow blur in my eyes, and I'm standing up and screaming because the others are, too.
Something flies into my open mouth, which is when I understand.
It's tracker jackers. I remember back, maybe ten years ago, to a Games in which tracker jackers were the head mutt, so to speak. Their stings are deadly, and judging from the pain exploding through my skin and the way my limbs no longer respond to my commands, I've been stung.
I fall almost slowly, not quite able to wrap my mind around what is happening. I can't be dying. Not me, not now. The ground slams up against me, again and again, as I thrash in the throes of the poison. It's strange, but I thought I would be more afraid to die, but somehow all I can think is that my body feels so heavy, so very heavy…
Suddenly, I am floating above myself. Sores rise up all over my flesh, oozing pus. My mouth hangs open, in a most unappealing way. Foam leaks up between my lips. I am deformed, destroyed, monstrous. And just like that the only thing I can truly say I possess, my beauty, is gone.
And I am nothing.