So here's the first proper chapter of 'Falling For Him'. As most of you are no doubt aware this is the prequel to Gnawing Hunger and I am currently writing the sequel, Shattered Hearts, at the same time. The prologue was a one-shot which I was asked to expand on and I decided to make into a sequel. That one-shot is from a collection of one-shots from Gnawing Hunger called 'The Realisation Of Hunger'. Anyway, I hope you enjoy this and review at the end!
~SneverusSnapers
Hatia swings the dress at my head and I have to duck low to avoid it. The mesh of colours swoop over my head, streaking the air with vibrancy and liveliness, just like the feelings Hatia presses on me every day.
"Hatia Upendo." I say in the highest regal tone my voice can muster, "Please refrain from trying to hit me with my dress."
"Come on Marie, loosen up a bit! Enjoy the feeling, the fresh air, and the general happiness that seems to emanate from the district." Hatia chirps happily, forever optimistic, her deep brown eyes dreamy at the thought.
"Not today Hatia, today is the reaping day, do you think anyone is happy?" I snap, but Hatia is used to me being like that and doesn't take it any differently. That's the thing about Hatia – she's never worn down whatever happens.
"I'm happy, you're happy." Hatia replies, smiling gleefully.
I study her short curly brown hair and her gleaming smile alongside her chestnut brown eyes and almost raw pink skin. I find it hard to bite back the words 'I am never happy'. It's true. Most girls my age, fifteen, would kill for what I have. Yet I would blow up half the district just to be normal. They don't understand the feelings of depression I get, the pressure I'm under. I have to be perfect; everything about me has to be perfect. My looks, my posture, my tone of voice, my manners, my behaviour, my feelings, all of them have to be perfect. So no, I am not happy, I am never happy.
"Why are you always happy?" I ask her, genuinely puzzled, and she looks down to the floor slowly, her face almost embarrassed.
"You've got to stay happy Marie, whatever happens. You have to stay happy for those around you that need it."
I find my eyes rolling automatically, "Really, what a load of rubbish. No-one needs me to be happy and definitely no-one wants me to be happy, life would be so dire if everyone was happy."
"You have to stay optimistic Marie. Now anyway, where was I? Oh yes, I think you should wear this dress."
I look at the dress Hatia has outstretched in front of me and barely glance at it before brushing it aside, "No, no. I want something simple; let me complete the rest of the look."
"Modest." Hatia chuckles. Hatia is the only person I would let address me like that. My mother is very strict and house proud and all the time I spend near her is cold and civil, and my father is always away on business, though being the daughter of the main supply merchant in district eight does have its advantages. I get anything I want, even friends. But they aren't friends; none of them are, except Hatia. I remember when we first met: I had been having a really bad day. And by really bad I mean firing my maid, smashing dishes and shouting at my mother really bad. It was all because my father had decided to stay in the Capitol for another six months. I was fuming. So I stormed out of the house and went to the stables. Yes, now I know everyone thinks I'm a total stuck up prat with no love for anything or anyone in the world, but the truth is I have a love for horses. Our stables are my sanctuary. Well, when I say 'our' I mean the district eight stables where everyone keeps their horses. So I went to the stables and found a girl standing there, stroking my horse. I almost bit her head of I was so livid that she would even dare touch Skye, my speckled white mare. But then I saw that in fact it wasn't Skye, just after a long screech had escaped my lips. She understood immediately when I explained and we talked for a bit and I discovered the horse she had been petting was her stallion and that she actually lived quite close to me, in the rich part of district eight. Although I never apologised our friendship grew from there.
I find my hands gravitating towards a white dress stuffed at the back of my wardrobe which I only vaguely remember buying years back, only to find it was too long for me. I stroke the plain dress with a slight hem of lace and an elegant neck and hold it up for Hatia to see.
"I'm wearing this." I say bluntly, is if daring Hatia to disagree. Hatia looks at it and smiles, nodding her head slightly in an approving way.
"It suits you, but what will we do about this one?" Hatia asks, holding up the mesh of bright colours that have carefully been printed into a dress.
"You wear it." I say simply and Hatia almost chokes on thin air.
"Are you being serious?" Hatia asks me in amazement.
"No, I just felt like saying that." I roll my eyes in distaste at Hatia's stupidity, "Of course I'm being serious you idiot! Now go and try it on." Hatia nods obediently at my words and scurries out of the room holding up the dress as if it's a priceless artefact or something of equal value. I tut distastefully at her, really she can be very stupid for one brought up so well. Though I do love Hatia really, with her quirky ways and priceless smile, I just can't help but to scold her for even the smallest of things. I just guess it's my mother shining through me. I just hope I don't become a spitting image of her when I grow up or things could become really bad. I already have her looks. I have blonde, almost golden hair which I have tussled into roman style ringlets piled up on top of my head and then I have quite pale skin, but still slightly tanned and deep mesmerising blue eyes that seem to come alive when I'm truly happy. That has only ever happened a few times in my life. Once, when I was born, according to my father and the second which I am highly ashamed of, when I believed my mother was dead.
Hatia comes through and we both stare at each other in awe. Hatia's almost pinkish complexion has really come to life with the dress, it makes her seem even more lively and cheerful than normal if that is even possible. The dress seems to flatter her posture and she almost looks as lively as out escort.
"You look... stunning." Hatia breaks the silence and I manage to close my mouth, refraining the gawp of amazement.
"You do too." I manage to stutter, complimenting Hatia.
"Shall we go to the reaping then?" Hatia asks and I find myself meekly nodding in reply. I never knew Hatia could look so good. Her bushy brown hair which is suspended hanging just above her shoulders curves around her face and the dress somehow matches it, despite not containing a bit of brown. I guess it is the purple. Purple is definitely her colour. I'll have to arrange for her to get a purple dress made for her, it really would suit her. You would think that this being the textiles district there would be an abundance of outfits, but it is actually virtually impossible to get a semi decent outfit on the right side of the law, and if anyone knew that I had been doing otherwise then my family's reputation would be shattered. So I have to keep my head held high and wear the shoddier clothes, with maybe the odd bribe to throw in something else. But that is expected, what isn't is getting some of the beautiful outfits you find on the edge of the market. But if you were to go there you would stand a decent chance of getting mugged.
"I guess so. We should check on Skye and Mister though, we should go and see if they're alright." Hatia says, breaking me out of my worrying thoughts.
Mister is Hatia's horse, the one that is almost identical to Skye. We thought they were related at the beginning but it turned out just to be a coincidence, they just look alike because they're the same breed.
"They'll be fine." I say, dismissing the thought of them with a wave of my hand, but my face becomes suddenly serious, "We're the ones who should be worrying."
"It will be fine, really, it will. Neither of us have tesserae, what could possibly go wrong?" Hatia consoles me, but I still have a bubbling thought in my stomach.
What could go wrong? What could go wrong indeed...
