It would be a ridiculous lie to say that I'm not afraid. Terribly unbelievable even. My shaking hands and unsteady steps towards the stage acts as unbearable proof of that. In an attempt to hide my nervousness as I take my spot on stage next to that ludicrous looking woman, I tie my hands behind my back and square my shoulders. I cast my gaze upwards, above the crowd of painfully familiar people. I cannot find it in my to look any of them in the eyes or else I fear I may start to regret my decision and that is something I cannot afford to do if I wish to ever return here. I am frightened of what I may see if I gaze upon them and happen to meet a familiar gaze. Will they look at me with distaste for the choice I made or with admiration? Understanding? I doubt it.
"Oh how exciting." Effie, the lady clad in more pink than any person should be allowed to wear, almost screeches besides me. She sounds as though this is the best thing that has ever happened to her. Maybe it is. Who even knows with the people from the Capitol?
"Our very first volunteer from District 12. What an honor for your district to have someone such as yourself. Describe what you're feeling." She says and practically shoves the diamond covered mic in my face. I spare her not even a glance as I indifferently answer her.
"Excited." I state but my voice says anything but. She awaits for me to say something else but I remain stoic. When she realises that I'm not going to elaborate, she hastily takes the mic and continues.
"Well, you've certainly surprised us all. A round of applause for Katniss Everdeen, let's hope she brings great glory to District 12!" But no applause can be heard. In fact, it's quiet enough that one could even hear a pin drop. Not a single person in the audience does anything. I dare only to glance at the big screen for I am too frightened to meet the gaze of any. They all stare at the stage, at me, with empty and distasteful eyes. My gaze quickly averts back towards nothingness.
The cloud of pink besides me hurriedly continues so the people of District 12's rebellious act will be forgotten.
"And our male tribute of the 74th Hunger Games is…" She fumbles around in the glass bowl far longer than necessary. She finally settles on a piece of paper that contains the name of a boy that will most likely die. Whose death is imperative if I want to continue breathing.
"Peeta Mellark!" She shouts and my eyes immediately finds the screen where Peeta's face is in close-up. I sigh sadly. Of course he would be the one getting reaped the year I volunteer. He looks as if he's about to cry and though I hate myself for it, I cannot help but to find his obvious display of weakness a bit embarrassing. I grow angry at both for myself for my mean train of thoughts but also at Peeta. Partly for confirming the general idea that our District and its citizens are weak but also because he does nothing to better his chances at winning. The Capitol only support those who they think might have a chance, and Peeta's actions does nothing to garner him any good attention right now. I owe Peeta my life and though I am not willing to give him it, I want him to win if I die.
This time, the audience applauds for they would not dare to do something as rebellious again, and Peeta did not volunteer.
We're quickly ushered off stage and into the Justice building, where we're graced with what will for twenty three of us, be our final goodbye's.
I look around the plush room, never having been in a room as luxurious as this before. A heavy, blue fabric seems to be the theme of this room. Velvet I think it's called. I can dimply recall my mother letting me wear a velvet ribbon of hers once when I was very young. Though I cannot recall it being the quality of this. The couch is the most comfortable thing I have sat in. I don't have too long to ponder over plush sofas and heavy fabrics for very long though for soon enough the door is thrown open and Prim and my mother comes rushing in.
"Why Katniss? Why? You can't!" Primrose screams as she throws herself at me. I fight the tears so I won't cry. I glance at my mother, who stands still, watching mine and Prim's actions quietly.
"You know that I had to. The life we have now isn't easy and it won't get easier. I want something better for you. For all of us." I say and avoid Prim's teary gaze. She will make me regret my decision. The decision that I took long ago. I've prepared for this since I can remember and yet, it would be a lie to say that I am not absolutely frightened. I'm not about to show that though. Let the Capitol believe that I'm doing this for fame and glory. Let them believe that I'm excited. All I care about is that I know why I'm down this. For Prim.
"What if you die?" Prim is crying so much and as expected, my mother just stands there, doing nothing.
"I won't die. You know me. You know how good I am. I know that it's a risk but it's worth it. All of it is worth it Prim. For you." I say aha hug her tightly. I can feel her sniffing against my chest.
"Just promise that you'll come home. Please." I look away as I nod.
"I promise."
Prim screams as the Peacekeepers forces her away. I only nod at my mother. She looks away. Sighing, I throw myself down on the plush couch again and sigh even louder as I imagine myself floating away for a minute. Disappearing with the wind. I imagine myself silently crumble inte nothing as my mind floats through the air. Sometimes I envy the wind. How free it is. Free and silent, but so very powerful. The wind can never be contained. I imagine myself as the wind. Uncontainable and powerful.
"Catnip." Gale says, his voice barely above a whisper. He looks at me with such disappointment that I can barely stand it. Why must he make me feel ashamed of what I've done? Does he not understand my reasons?
"Gale, don't." I say warningly.
"You've known this from the start. You've always know that I would do this. I have to do this, for Prim. She needs the immunity and the money. We all do." I stand up and Gale moves away as I near him. I try not to let the hurt show.
"Katniss, Prim won't get the immunity unless you win! She won't be safe from the reaping unless you make it out of the games alive, which is highly unlikely with tributes from District 1 and 2 present in the games. And if you, by some miracle win, you will win as a murderer." The hurt I feel from his lack of believe in me is nothing compared to the anger I feel from his betrayal. He once told me that he would support me no matter what, and all that mattered was that it made me happy.
"Gale." I say and reach for him but he just looks at me with disgust and backs away. The rejection I feel is not nearly comparable to the anger and sadness. Hardening my gaze and dropping my arm to my side, I nod more to myself than to him. "Okey, if that's what you want." I say coldly and point to the door. His eyes betrays him for a fraction of a second but stubborn as he is, he only gazes over me once and then leave the room without a word.
I want to cry. My body demands that a shed tears for what could be my last goodbye to my best friend, but I know Gale as though he were an extension of myself. In some ways, I would even say that he is. He is afraid for me, afraid that I might never return. I am no fool, I know that what Gale feels for me might not only be feelings of a friend and that he must be terrified of me never returning. Gale has an idea of me that isn't necessarily true and I suspect that he never actually thought that I would enter the games. At least not voluntarily. And when I did he took his fear out over me. It does not make his words any less hurtful though.
As I enter the train, I clutch the golden pin in my hand. It's a mockingjay. Madge came and said goodbye after Gale. She gave me the pin and then told me that she hopes I'll win. I snort. I hope so too.
If the room in the justice building was luxurious, then this train is out of this world. A display of colorful and mouthwatering foods which I've never seen before in my life and liquors and drinks for ages stands on tables. Each train compartment more luxurious than the next. I feel a small amount of distaste for the Capitol people settle in my mouth. How they live in a luxury like this everyday is incomprehensible to me.
"So this is the tribute that made history." A drunken vice slur from the door of the compartment that me and Peeta currently sit in. Haymich Abernathy, the infamous lone Victor of District 12. He immediately heads for a table full of colorful liquors. After pouring himself what I imagine not to be his first glass this morning he sloppily throws himself down onto one of the plush, blue lounge chairs. He stares at me and then Peeta and then back at me before speaking.
"So why'd you do it?" He slurs to me. I glare at the drunken man that is supposed to be my mentor. how the hell will he be able to help us if he's straight up drunk all the time. Before I can answer, he starts talking again.
"And don't even start with the whole 'for glory-thing'." I snort.
"A Victor is granted everything they could possibly want. Fame, glory, money for the rest of their days. They, and their close family gets immunity from the games." My eyes find a small knife next to me. I think it's for cheese of some kind but it does not matter. I take the knife and twirl it between my fingers as I continue.
"My father died when I was eleven, and when my mother became depressed, I thought we were going to die. Then one day, when I was certain that we all would starve to death, I got help from someone. That small help made me decide that I would never let that happen again. By then, I knew how to use a bow. I made use of that. I hunted everyday even though it's illegal. By trading meat and other things I could collect in the forrest, we could afford the basics. But that's not a life I want for Prim. For there is still the games, which she would not last a day in. I can't let her live with the fear of maybe having to enter the games. So I've trained everyday for the day where I'd enter the arena." Haymitch looks at me quietly for a few moments before he bursts out in laughter.
"You've trained? Oh, sweetheart." He says and laughs some more. My grip on the cheese knife in my hand tightens.
"Throwing a few knifes and shooting a few arrows is not enough to win the games. Ever hear of the Careers. Unless yo-" The knife I had in my hand lands with a thud on the wall behind the drunk. A piece of his hair lands on the floor that the knife managed to knick off. He looks at me shocked.
"Are you insane?" He yells. I smile sweetly.
"First of all, it's not a few knifes and a few arrows. It's every weapon that you can imagine. Second of all, do not underestimate me. I may be doing this for Prim, but don't for a second think that I am afraid of doing what needs to be done." I say before standing up and storming out of the compartment.
I ignore Effie's commands that I join them for supper. Instead I order something to my own compartment as I watch the recap of todays reapings. Only a few people make an impression on me. The boys and the girls from One and Two. The girl from five and the tributes from District 11. The boy looks as though he could compete against the brute from Two. The girl. Well, I have to look away when she's reaped. She's only twelve. I hope that I won't have to kill her. I don't think I could.
When Cesear, the Capitol man which have the "honor" of interviewing each tribute every year, starts rambling about how exciting it is to have a volunteer from an outlying district, I shut the TV off. I don't want to hear more about myself today. All I want to do is sleep. I doubt I've been this exhausted for very long time.
Breakfast with Haymitch and Peeta the next day is one of the most awkward affairs I've ever been to. Neither one says anything until Haymitch starts spiking his juice with more liquor.
"Do you really need to drink that much?" Peeta says and if looks could kill, Peeta would be dead and buried eight times just from Haymitch stare.
"Why do you care?" He asks sarcastically and I snort which gains me Haymitch attention.
"Got anything to say sweetheart?" He asks me, even more sarcastically.
"How are you going to mentor us if you're so drunk?" I ask him. He seems to think this over and when he sees my hand moving towards my knife, he quickly answers.
"Tell you what sweetheart, if you do as the stylist tells you to and act all good and happy for the Capitol, then I'm going to stay sober enough to be somewhat helpful, ok?" He says before taking a sip of his drink. Figuring that it's the best deal I'll get, I nod before retreating my hand from the knife. As I do this, the cart becomes dark for just a moment and I realize that we must be near the Capitol. This is confirmed to me when the cheers can be heard from outside as we slow down. I head towards the windows. The people outside the train are even more funny looking than Effie Trinket or Ceasar Flickerman. But, their my potential sponsors so I smile and wave, burying my distaste for them as I do.
"At least you know how to act nice." I hear Haymitch mutter as he leaves the compartment. I ignore him as I continue waving. I sigh when the windows are covered and I can drop my smile. Effie comes rushing in, talking about the time and how we'll be late. For what exactly, I don't know, but as I leave the train I realize that it doesn't matter anymore. All that matters is that I win. And I will, but it would be a ridiculous lie to say that I'm not afraid.
