A/N: It is entirely possible that you have read this before, because I posted this a while back. However, I decided to rewrite it because there were parts of it that I didn't particularly like. Anyway, I don't normally use this style of writing, so it might sound a bit odd in places. But please enjoy anyway!
PLAY PRETEND
"Glimmer"
It's all about the performance, isn't it sweetheart? Cue the camera, cue your smile, cue their hearts. You can feel their resolve melting from your celestial hands; hanging onto every word that leaves your lips. Now you're thinking it's too easy, this game that you're playing. Winning isn't fun when it's all you ever do. But think about it honey, it's not a game, is it really? It's a West End show, and you're the leading role. Slap on some make-up, it's time for play-pretend. Because you're swirling, twirling, whirling in circles, and nobody's going to stop you. Nobody would dare, so enjoy it while you can, sweetheart (after all, the curtain's calling).
They say to survive, you've got to play it right, and you know just how to play people, don't you? You know you're a star; it's in your blue veined blood. Those other tributes, let's be honest, they don't stand a chance. Not against you, sweetheart. You know the rules, and you know how to play them. But that's all you ever do, isn't it? Play, play, play. You've been pretending all your life (and trust me, it's not great). Surely it's time for something new, something exciting, something fresh.
That's why you don't bat an eyelid when he comes along, isn't it? With his glorious strength, his glorious body, his glorious scars. (But where did they come from?) It's not your fault, sweetheart; you didn't know he was going to be your demise, did you? (Or maybe you just wouldn't see it.) He knew how to play this game of yours and that's why he fascinates you, isn't it? But he's out for your blood (what a bittersweet betrayal), always has been, always will be. You can't bring yourself to care, though, can you darling? You've gotten what you wanted. (To be honest, it wasn't difficult).
You're too greedy though, aren't you doll? You always want more. Now, you've gotten the boy but you want the freedom too. What's a girl like you doing here, anyway? You don't belong here; where's the glory in any of this? You want to be at home; you want to hold your baby sister and never let go. Too bad she thinks you're a killer (well, what else are you really?)
You thought this was a show, didn't you sweetheart? You're wrong though. A show won't bring you sorrow, but honey, this charade will. Because you thought you were safe, didn't you? (Biggest lie of the century). To kill or be killed, that was the contract. But I don't see that contract now, sweetheart. It's not pinned to that tree as it falls. How ironic it is that greed that was your ultimate downfall.
The pain is excruciating, but at least the show's over. Cue the curtains, it's time to go home.