The Maze Games – Chapter One

She looked at herself in the mirror, assessing her every feature closely. She notes the way her dark hair falls idly past her broad shoulders, the way her lips curve up at the sides, creating a perpetual almost-smirk. Her fingertips brush over the fresh bruises plastered across her face, and she winces, more due to the immediate flashback rather than the pain. She allows her dark eyes to wonder towards the ground as she pulls the navy blue dress over her head. She tugs at the hem irritably, whispering unintelligibly to herself. It's the same dress she had worn since she was fourteen, almost three years ago. Every year it seems to become shorter, causing discomfort. The hem rests upon the upper half of her thigh, revealing burn scars, and cuts against her pale skin. She has grown considerably since the year before, the dress rested at a comfortable length back then. She fixes up the collar roughly, attempting to conceal where the buttons strain due to her most recent growth spurt, strategically placing her long hair over her chest. She'd never understood the need to dress up for such a revolting occasion, children being reaped for sick, twisted experiments. She feels the heat rush towards her face as anger rises up inside of her. Closing her eyes, she perches upon the edge of her bed, burying her head in her pale hands. It all started after the first rebellion, the Capitol dropped nuclear bombs upon District 13, thus destroying the district completely. The aftershock was much worse, people within the districts were no longer safe, radiation from the attack caused many devastating defects against those exposed. The Maze Games came shortly after, children from the ages of twelve, to eighteen are reaped annually, and taken from their homes in order to be the Capitol's lab rats. The children are placed into an arena, sent up in a metal lift also known as The Box, one by one, and monitored closely throughout the trials. This is all shown in vivid detail on national television.

"Ingrid?" She hears a knock at her door, and quickly stands to greet her mother, folding her arms across her chest.

"Yes?" She replies, as her mother allows herself in. She bites her lip, dropping her eyes towards the ground.

"It's the reaping today, have you forgotten?" Her mother purses her lips, her hand resting against her own head, limply.

"I haven't, no." Ingrid tucks her hair behind her ears, awkwardly. She attempts to avoid her mother's eyes, shuffling her feet against the floorboards. An inaudible slur escapes her mother's mouth as she stumbles out of the room, and Ingrid finally releases a breath which she was subconsciously holding back. The rotting smell of alcohol contaminates her nostrils, and it is evident that her mother has been drinking yet again. Ingrid sighs inwardly, tugging the worn, beige boots over her ankles, quickly. She needs to escape this house, she needs to clear her mind and there is only one place which she knows how. She closes the door behind her, attempting to make as little noise as possible before heading out.