As I walk into the training center, I realize how unprepared I am. What should I show these people, these people who spend their lives watching and rating countless tributes that will soon die?
Suddenly the image of Rue, tiny and so innocent, comes to my head. Did she deserve to enter the place of nightmares, fear, and blood: the arena? Did she deserve to die with a spear in her stomach, killed by a boy just as innocent as her?
No, she didn't. None of us did. Because, despite the killing mentality the careers have, the thirst for the blood of other tributes, they are people too. Mislead people brainwashed into believing that the Hunger Games are a pleasure, that killing people will make them whole, give them a purpose. Lies fed into them until they start to accept it as truth.
I flee to the station where berries and dyes await. The Gamemakers are bored, unsuspecting of what I will soon show them. Taking each color and swirling them around, I create Rue, covered in flowers. Blobs of pink become beautiful flowers, black becomes her curly hair. Concentrating on the image of Rue, every injustice of these games comes into my head.
Why do they have the right to kill innocent children? Why should people like Rue be forced to do something so wrong and unjust: kill other kids? Do they even know how sick they are?
After minutes-no hours- I see my painting. Rue comes to life, lying just as she was in the arena.
I stand back; let the Gamemakers admire my work. The effect is immediate: they gasp, astonished at my nerve. A few of them even turn pale, looking at the pinnacle of their evil games.
Leaving quickly, I feel a sense of pride and a bit of excitement in my chest, knowing that, at least once, I have shown the Capitol the very cruelness they constantly project.