The Stranger in the Mirror
Effie Trinket
Effie Trinket arrived back at her apartment, which looked out over the capitol square, just one of the many perks afforded to her with her prestigious title of escort. Even if it was just to District Twelve. The door closed behind her and Effie could finally relax her face. It was late and she had had a long day escorting her newest tributes. They were on their own now, nothing more she could do. As such she had moved back into her apartment from the Training Centre tower. This was her first night back in quite some time, but it was all exactly the same as every year. She was emotionally drained and she could still hear the celebrations out in the streets below her, or in the surrounding apartments maybe. She had stayed as long as she could, it might have been a little less time this year. Something was making everything hit a little harder this year. Whatever it was she couldn't face the party a moment longer and had arrived back home.
'Maybe it's the kids.' She thought to herself as she massaged her face out of the Capitol smile she had had plastered on her face for countless hours. 'Maybe... I don't know. Maybe because they have more fight than usual and yet I still know it's useless.' She silently questioned as she stepped out of her seven inch heels.
Tied at her slim ankle with a big satin bow, lilac, just like the diamonds which covered the patent leather and with an impressive platform soles as well as the long heels. They hurt her feet like hell. But it was only now that she noticed the pain, as she began to remove the Capitol shine from herself. As she padded across the thick, white, fluffy carpet she also noticed the trail of deep red blood she was leaving from her tortured feet. The drops of blood sitting rounded and shiny on top of the carpet looked like jewels in the snow, but they soon lost their lustre as they soaked into the fibres. 'Better sort out my feet.' She thought. 'Can't have anyone seeing the price we pay for all this the next time I wear open toes.'
Then, out of paranoid habit, she forced a laugh which rang out in the empty, sterile environment she was in. She had made a joke out of her minor criticism. Even though she was alone. Even though she had said it in her head. That's how far the fear had sank in her. She sighed at herself and continued in. not caring about the trail of blood she was leaving behind her, someone would clean that up. Another Capitol extra earned by her title. She wasn't even sure who did it. All she knew was that everything was always spick and span, shiny and... sterile whenever she arrived back. Even if she had only been out for the day. Part of her hated that, even her home wasn't really a home. It too had to always be picture perfect. But she shoved those feelings back down. For now anyway, soon she would have her release.
As she walked through the apartment screens automatically sprang to life and began singing and screaming at her, all about what she longed to escape; The Hunger Games. This most recent of the ongoing Games had only just begun really but Effie just wanted it to end. But it would never end for her. Her entire year was spent at the events and functions following the current Games or remembering and celebrating them or creating excitement for the next. And on and on for eternity. She had enjoyed them when she was younger but not not any more. 'Maybe they'll go early this year. Would make it easier on us all.' She thought as she manually turned off each screen in turn on her way to the bathroom. Trying to turn off and block out the annual celebration of horror which seemed to be getting harder and harder. 'Yes. Better for everyone if they go in the opening minutes at the Cornucopia . Better for them; no freezing, or starving, or fear... well less fear. Better for me; I might get a few days to myself whilst everyone watches the rest. Better for Haymitch.'
She paused in her internal monologue. Haymitch felt as bad as her but didn't bother to hide it. She envied his honesty as she could see the pain behind his actions, his drinking, and his eyes. All that pain staring out from his soul, which she recognised. Could relate to. But he couldn't see that in her. Too much Capitol fluff getting in the way. And she acted like it didn't effect her. Very well it seemed as Haymitch never saw the matching pain staring out from her eyes. Never saw the longing for sharing. Sharing this pain, these experiences and... 'Shut up!Stop it!' She screamed silently to herself. 'All he will ever see is the stupid Capitol whore that you are! So stop thinking like that. Stop thinking of him. Just shut up, shut up, shut up!' She banged her fists against her temples until she suddenly regained control, steadily lowered her fists to her sides and quickly looked around her. Just to be sure. That paranoia was built in deep.
She reached the last screen which had begun blaring. Before she could turn it off she caught sight of herself and Haymitch with the newest tributes. The channel was obviously doing a recap of the lead up, before the real action began. Caesar Flickerman was saying something about what the tributes were doing but Effie didn't pay him any attention. All she could focus on was her and Haymitch in the background. 'Why did I have to be reminded of that?' She physically crumpled, cringing at the memory. Haymitch had pointed out a stain on the sleeve of the jacket she was wearing.
"Surprised you haven't sorted that out Sweetheart, what with all the cameras around."
She remembered he had sneered at her. And instead of doing anything that could have improved his opinion of her, Effie re-watched herself hurridly take her jacket off. She also saw, once again, the look of disdain he had shot her. A look which she had been replaying over and over in her head. She had shown him how much she cared about the Capitol image once again, and she could see that he hated her for it. She angrily punched the off button on the screen. 'Why did they have to show that?' She thought and her eyes pricked with tears. 'No one else will have noticed.' She comforted herself before realising that this just showed, once again, that she cared about appearances. 'Haymitch is right to hate me. I hate me.'
She stared at herself in the bathroom mirror and hated what she saw. She couldn't see herself. Not her true self. She didn't even know what that would look like. All she could ever really see was the Capitol Effie. All wigs, and powder, and gloss, and polish. Nothing which was real, nothing that was truly her.
She began the laborious process of removing all the Capitol extras. Starting from the top and working her way down. The same process she had used basically every day of her life. All the time staring relentlessly back at the stranger facing her in the mirror. She took the pins which held her large, curly, lilac wig in place one by one some she had pushed in so deep that they had cut through her scalp once again. Effie didn't flinch, just rinsed the bloodied ones under the tap before carefully placing them with the others in an ornate enamel box on the dresser surrounding the sink. Before too long the wig was lose and her natural hair found freedom hanging at her shoulders. She noticed with an audible sigh that her roots were growing in and she would have to book an appointment with her stylist. 'Great.' She huffed to herself. She really wasn't in the mood for talking the Capitol talk yet again. But it would have to be done. The mousey brown roots were an indicator of the natural Effie. 'And no one needs to see that.' She thought to herself , remembering her mothers words from when she was a child. She tried to think back to a time when she hadn't been poked, prodded, and highlighted into perfection, and found the memory missing.
This was her her life, had always been her life, and always would be, no matter how much she fantasised about escaping to a district. She allowed her thoughts to travel, to begin imagining that life, maybe even with Haymitch there. But she snapped herself back to reality. 'Don't be so ridiculous.' She admonished the girl in the mirror. The one with the hopes, and dreams, and mousey brown roots. She refocused on her hair; 'Yes that will have to be sorted whether I like it or not.' She thought to herself running her fingers through the unnaturally blonde waves. She siged and lamented. 'Even my natural hair can't be natural. This hair which will never be seen by anyone but me has to be kept Capitol, at least to some degree.' She shot another urgent look about her. She was having a lot of dangerous thoughts tonight, more than usual, and this was playing on her paranoia.
Now that her hair was loose she could start work on her face. She soaked a muslim cloth in strong, pink cleanser and started to reveal more of herself, layer by layer. Soon left on the clothes was her Capitol mask. The lilac eyebrows drawn on to match her wig. The glittery eye-shadow and heavy eye-liner. The lilac lipstick and shimmery gloss. The pink rouge from her cheeks and layers and layers of thickly applied Cover-all, foundation, and white powder. All of that to cover a pale face with light pink flush across the cheeks. A smattering of light freckles and naturally large and defined eyes. The permanent eyelash extensions wouldn't be removed, obviously, but the more exaggerated set, with diamonds and lilac flowers on the ends were pulled away. Effie winced as the glue struggled to yield to her pulling, but she got them off eventually, with a little help from her industrial cleanser.
Next was her Capitol suit of armour. The lilac shimmering dress was removed and Effie carefully placed it in the hamper to be taken and cleaned, along with the matching jacket and tights. She paused as she held the garment, feeling the light silky material between her fingers. Stopping to think, unlike so many others. 'Where has this come from, how was it made? How much suffering was created from making this just for me to appear presentable to all the others?' She knew it was naive, that she couldn't truly imagine a district life, but she so craved to escape all this Capitol foolery. She even envied the kids who arrived to her every year. Plucked from their homes to their inevitable deaths by her fair hand. At least they had the spirit to fight for their lives. If put in their position would she do the same? They had something to live for, what did she have? All this fakeness and yet another stranger staring back at her from the mirror. Sure this one had been stripped of make-up but it was just as unfamiliar, just as much of a stranger. She was upset now. Tears threatening to overflow from her eyes. She yanked at the strings on her corset until she was finally free, threw that and her underwear into the hamper and jumped into the shower. After pressing the appropriate buttons scalding hot water rained over her, burning her skin. At last the tears she had been holding on to all day were also granted freedom. They burnt tracks down her face as the water burnt over the rest of her body.
As she regained her composure she could focus on washing off the Cover-all which had not only been applied to her face but all over her body. Just in case. In case of what she didn't know. But that was what her mother had always said. Every inch of her body was covered all day, not a trace of her visible. It was a deeply inbedded thought process, everything had to be covered . She carefully controlled what everyone could see of her. This had resulted in no one seeing her. She looked down at her body under the shower, preparing to leave the one place she felt safe enough to cry. The water around her feet, swirling waiting to disappear down the drain was clouded with all the Cover-all and her skin was back to normal. Slightly peachy and with imperfections which were considered flaws.
She looked at her arms, which was where most of the Cover-all had to be applied, and traced the silvery pattern left by the slits she had made to her skin. A massive collection of straight lines which she had carefully added to herself since she was a teenager in complete secrecy. The older ones had faded naturally but the newest she had the aid of Capitol concoctions which turned the cuts to scars even before they stopped bleeding. She stepped out of the shower onto an impressively thick bath mat and wrapped an equally luxurious towel around herself. Placing her hand on the box her hair was perfectly dry in seconds. 'Now to pay attention to those toes.' She thought to herself. She could feel her mood lifting now she was getting closer to the only thing which made her feel real. She took the tube of medicine from the bathroom cabinet and squeezed a slick of shiny gel onto her fingers. Applying it carefully to the burst blisters and flesh which had been rubbed raw, the gel immediately started healing. She applied a little extra so there would be no scars on her feet and placed the tube on the dresser, not bothering to replace the cap. This was a well rehearsed process. Furtively she took a small silver tin out from the cabinet and from this she removed a small blade.
She added to the pattern of pain she was painting onto her body. At last she could breathe. At last the pain subsided. She only watched the blood prick for a few seconds before adding the gel and putting everything away very quickly. You never knew who might be watching.
The mirror had fogged up during her shower so Effie took a small towel and wiped it down. She stared at the stranger in the mirror who was slightly smiling. She wasn't yet feeling guilty about her vice, that would come, but for the time being there was some happiness inside her. She sighed. 'Nearly done.' she comforted herself and started applying the comparatively small amount of make-up required for sleeping in. 'Just in case.' Effie reminisced.
She slid under the covers of her large bed. The mattress seemed to swallow her, the pillows so large they could suffocate her, the blanket, heavy, pinning her skin down. She was drowning in luxury. She tried to sleep but, as every night, she was finding it difficult. Her mind was racing. The Games, the tributes, Haymitch, what she had just done. It wasn't a problem, she had it under control, she could stop any time she wanted. Her hand crept protectively over her arm. 'Still, I'm glad I'm the only one who knows.' She thought to herself, shuddering at the idea that anyone else could find out. Her mind flitted back to Haymitch. He wore his vices on the outside. She couldn't decide whether it was just foolish or selfish... or brave. She began to wish that she had stayed in the tower so she could have listened for his drunken stumblings, known he was there. The thoughts of him continued to dance through her mind. He relaxed her and slowly she fell to sleep thinking of him. Like every morning she said she wouldn't and every night she did.