Inside a rich room, confined within the Justice Building, Peeta sits on an extravagant couch. It's laced with fine, sleek threads, just like the rug his feet nervously rub on. And it's there that all that's occurred finally rushes into Peeta's consciousness, flooding his mind with an array of emotions. It's happened. He's been picked, and there's nothing that can prevent his imminent death.
Nervously, he twiddles his thumbs, breathing rapidly and sweating, waiting for his parents to arrive and tell him that everything's okay. That it was all a mistake and Effie Trinket accidentally said the wrong name and that all would be fine.
But no. That doesn't happen when the grand oak doors turn open to reveal his family. His father's face is frightened, and his brothers' are grim. His mother's, a blank expression of nothingness.
Peeta lunges for his father from his seat, grabbing him desperately in a bear hug, hopelessly wishing his grip is so strong they wouldn't be able to pry him off when he has to leave. His father embraces him in return, his brothers both placing solemn hands on his back tenderly. The tribute closes his eyes and begins to shed tears, creating a wet splotch on his father's shirt.
After a few minutes that way, the peacekeepers enter and inform there's only a little bit of time left for them, and then leave. Peeta's eyes suddenly open, his heart beating franticly. No, this can't be the only time he has left. He needs more.
His father lets him go to hold him by the shoulders, both of their eyes puffy. They are all speechless, not knowing what to say. Until his mother speaks up from the side.
"At least District Twelve might have a winner this year…" She says to him, her loud voice unwelcome in the once silent room. "I just hope she comes out alright." She says with a serious nod.
Peeta's father shoots her with such a stare of ferocity that it seems to burn away whatever time is left and the peacekeepers enter the room once more, ordering the family to separate. It doesn't take much force to shoo them away from each other, the boy's father has a look of grief as the doors shut, his brothers as well. He couldn't see his mother's expression. Her back was turned.
Peeta sits back down on the couch, his face in his hands, waiting to be ushered into the train that takes him to the Capitol. He can't cry anymore, cameramen will be at the station to catch his face before he leaves. He can't show everyone in Panem he's a weakling, which will only further diminish his chances of living. Even if the chances are already exceptionally slim.
When the dark oak doors open again, he quickly wipes his face free from any amount of tears, expecting to be taken away to the train station. Instead, someone else walks in.
A girl that he knows from his school tentatively enters, and the doors shut behind her with a quick "You have three minutes." before they close entirely. She just stands there shyly looking to the floor.
"Mabel?" Peeta says, his voice unexpectedly hoarse from the misuse. She's wearing a blouse with a skirt and her brown hair is tied up with a red bow.
"What are you doing here?" Peeta asks her, standing. Why would she come? He doesn't even know her that well. Her eyes move up to meet his and she instantly tears up.
"Peeta!" She cries, lunging towards the boy and hugging him tightly. She catches Peeta off guard and almost makes him lose his balance. "I'm so sorry!" Her tears flow freely as she sobs. Peeta is dumbstruck. Why did Mabel come to see him before he leaves? It doesn't make sense, he only knows her from school.
"I'm so sorry, but I had to tell you this…" She says, freeing Peeta of her vice-like grip. "Before you leave. I had to tell you this…" She tries to speak, choking back her sobs. Peeta waits in earnest for what she absolutely needed to say.
"You've always been so kind to me…" She says, her throat clogged from the tears. "…I-I love you, Peeta…" She finally gets out, wiping her face with her hands. But before Peeta can even attempt to form words, she extends her arm, handing a small, rusty object to him. "I want you to have this. Don't ever forget who you are, Peeta." She says, wiping her eyes with her free hand. The object is an insignificant, small coin, coins that the kids in District 12 play a wide assortment of games with. They're worth virtually nothing, being made of a golden-brown copper. But for some reason, when it falls on Peeta's hands, its dingy anterior reflects all of his childhood memories upon it. Its rough surface strangely comforts him. When it falls in Peeta's hands, it's suddenly worth its weight in gold.
Almost as if on cue, the peacekeepers barge in, forcefully urging Mabel to leave.
"Promise me you'll try to come back!" She hurriedly says, being pushed away quickly out the room. Emotions flood Peeta, compelling him to speak.
"I promise—" He gets in before the loud sound of the doors shutting cuts him off. Its bang rings for days in the now empty room. The boy observes his only gift. A coin that amounts to less than a penny. But in his hands, its gravity feels heavier than the Earth itself.
In only a few moments, different peacekeepers enter the room Peeta is in from a backdoor, breaking his deep thoughts.
"Peeta Mellark," One says with a strong voice. "Come with us." He commands. Peeta complies and exits the opulent area to the back of the Justice Building, where the train station is located. When he walks through the door, he's reminded of the sultry weather that exists outside, the sun beating down upon him.
He's lead down steps and in front of a railroad, where the cameramen are shooting videos by the dozen, strongly clenching the coin in his left hand, desperately trying to stay calm. As the flashes from their cameras hurt Peeta's eyes, causing him to flinch at every photo, Katniss walks from behind him and is told stand beside the male tribute. Her face is as solid as a rock, almost bored. Peeta couldn't help but think how his face might seem. Probably red, making it obvious he's been crying, severely decreasing his chances of anyone sponsoring him in the arena.
But Katniss just stands there impassively. She could've been at a funeral with that demeanor. She might as well have been.
Once the cameramen take their full, looking so satisfied, as if they've eaten a whole buffet, the tributes enter the modern-looking train, followed closely by Effie Trinket and a clumsily drunk Haymitch Abernathy. Its chrome surface is designed to look stylish all the while reflecting any type of heat and light to keep the inside cool. And then the automatic doors slide closed, blocking all the sounds of the outside with its two inch-thick glass, making the environment inside unnervingly quiet. And it's when these doors close that Peeta realizes that this is it. There's no turning back.
The train's interior is stunningly luxurious. Velvet covers the ceiling in plush bumps. There are cozy couches and sofas placed in front of expensive tables. The cutlery on a dining table seems to cost more than thousands of Peeta's tiny coin. An indoor bar spans the breadth of the main room; this apparently causes Haymitch's eyes to brighten in delight.
"It was very nice meeting you. I'll just be going, now." He says, although he hasn't even fully met with the tributes, separating from the group to joyfully canter over to the bar. This makes an unnatural frown appear on Effie's face, but it doesn't visibly seem to move Katniss in any way possible. Peeta just stares at Haymitch leaving, unaware of how to react.
"We'll just let him do his…thing, for now." Effie dismisses Haymitch's rude manners with a wave of her spindly hand, her fingernails so long that they threaten to slice Peeta's neck with the concise motion.
The colorful figure leads the tributes to their respective rooms, showing Katniss hers first, and justifying the reason with a quaint "Ladies first." Then she shows Peeta to his and leaves him to tend to her schedule in her own compartment.
Peeta's room is relatively simple, with a modest bed, night stand, and dresser. But of course, standards are inherently low in District 12, and the luxury nauseates Peeta. Wanting some fresh air, he opens his room window to the sight of the radiant sun casting its warm rays upon a large expanse of hills and meadows. Holding in his hands the coin Mabel gave him, he muses over actually fulfilling the vow he so impetuously promised her. He imagines returning to District 12, his home, into loving hands. Maybe his mother might even be proud of him.
But then his mind crosses the notion of having to kill Katniss. He might be able to kill someone else, someone he doesn't know. Just so that he could get back home. But what if they both survive in the arena? What if it ends up them being the only ones left? He imagines Katniss holding up a bow with an arrow strung, ready to fire, himself stunned, defenseless and weak.
He pictures her serious face looking deep at him, menacing. Then she lets her hand loose, an arrow flying, targeted for Peeta's heart.
A sharp knock on the door startles Peeta back to reality, yanking him away from his frightening nightmare. He gasps in returning back to the real world. The knocking continues, with no identification of whom.
"What?" Peeta says, almost grouchily. Effie would've been disappointed in him, but only if it were her. The knocking continues, this time slightly more timid, as if the person behind the door is communicating with him through some sort of wordless language. Slightly annoyed, he walks over and opens the door swiftly.
It's one of those attendants with white uniforms; they don't ever seem to talk for some reason. The attendant silently gestures for Peeta to follow him. Peeta complies, confused, and they speechlessly walk up the hallway to the main room where the dining table is set up.
Everyone is seated there, including a melancholy Katniss and a cranky Haymitch. Effie notices Peeta's entry and greets him with a flashy grin.
"Ah! There you are, Peeta!" She says, her hands clasped together in joy. "We weren't going to start without you, now that wouldn't be polite to our new tribute, but someone…" She subtly eyes a binge eating Haymitch, who isn't even aware of Peeta's arrival. "…decided to eat first." She sighs lightly. "Well, let's begin."
The food is amazing! That's all Peeta can think while he eats his extravagant meal. Katniss just sits there, twiddling her food around with her fork broodingly. Effie, after having attached her napkin to her collar and scrupulously placed her cutlery in its correct positions, meticulously and deliberately bites her food with care, as if her life depended upon it. Haymitch, to the contrary, spills his plate and drink all over the place, including himself.
"Well," Effie, after having made sure to swallow all of her food and dab her mouth with her napkin, tries to create a conversation. "I think you guys already know this, but Haymitch is your mentor, thus your best chance at winning the Games." She says to both Katniss and Peeta. "If you guys start to formulate a plan as soon as now, I know the odds will be in your favor!" She says with such wasted enthusiasm; for Haymitch sizes up the tributes and then disregards them both, getting back to his food.
"Just do your best." He says, while spewing bits of food on the tablecloth, as if he's been saying the same exact words to every other tribute that he meets. He must be tired with trying to help them live and then seeing them die in the arena.
Effie frowns at this uninterested comment, but it's Katniss's reaction that surprises the group. Previously concentrating on her uneaten food, she moves her eyes up at him with a look of distaste.
"Is that it?" She says, having not heard her speak for hours, her tone sounds harsher than it really is to everyone. "You expect us to win with that?" Her voice slightly escalates, but Haymitch just blankly stares at her, unmoving. Peeta stares as well, surprised by her sudden outburst. Effie gapes in shock at the girl.
"Ugh." She grunts, agitated, getting up from her seat and throwing the napkin from her lap on her plate of food furiously, and then storms off to her room. Haymitch just eyes the space she last was until she ran out of his sight, then chuckles, a grin on his unkempt face, reverting back to his food.
"What can I say?" He says, more to himself, but loudly nonetheless. "The girl's got spunk." He seems more interested in her now at least, Peeta thinks. Maybe he might give us some more instructions on how to survive, the tribute hopes. Effie is still shocked at the flagrant breach of etiquette, her eyes as wide as dinner plates.
After dinner, and a little of cajoling Katniss out of her room on Effie's part, the group sits in the living room to watch all other tributes that have been reaped today. Haymitch, clutching a crystal clear bottle of vodka in his hands, sits on the plush couch, impatiently waiting on Effie to switch to the Capitol Channel. Katniss and Peeta sit next to each other, Peeta on the end. He's noticed the girl's bored expression has now altered into a perpetual scowl. Why does she seem so angry? Is she thinking about how she's going to have to kill them, like me? Peeta questions his mind.
Effie squeals in excitement when she reaches the channel and scoots in to the couch so that she may enjoy the show.
It begins with District 1; of course, they are the lap dogs of the Capitol. The city shines with jewel plated everything. Even some of the people. A slender woman picks a slip and calls out a name for the female tribute.
"Glimmer Clair!" She smiles to the crowd expectantly. The girl's chestnut, wavy hair bounces as she quite literally runs to the stage, does a few cartwheels, and then flips. She lands smack-dab next to the slender woman, just to impress the audience, her tresses waving, brisking her shoulders.
"Show off." Katniss hisses. This coerces a chuckle from Haymitch, and a "Shh" from a captivated Effie. Peeta agrees with Katniss on this one, why couldn't he have done some sort of gymnastic trick when he was called instead of walk in a stupor, like an idiot? There was no time for Peeta to answer his question when the woman picks out a name for the male tributes.
"Marvel Ochki!" She speaks into the microphone.
"Oh yay! Marvel!" Glimmer jumps in joy, clapping her hands, absolutely elated she's going into the arena with him, as if it's more a tea party than a bloodbath. The boy does no spectacular trick, but he waves contentedly at the crowd as he walks through it, his close-cut, light-brown hair is littered with the random rose petals being thrown at him, as if he was a god.
"Okay then," Effie says, holding the remote directed to the T.V., although still planted in her seat. "We can skip everything else now, it's mostly just them leaving, and it won't help you guys." She says, and deliberately clicks the fast-forward button, skipping all of the stuff in between until she gets to the point where the District 2 tributes are being called.
It's very different from the last district, its main industry being weapons and masonry. Vey dark and almost gloomy, Peeta observes. There is a fierce-looking man holding up the name for the female tribute.
"Clove Gavran." He says in a rough accent. The girl called Clove walks through the center of the crowd purposefully, giving off a vibe of "I was born to do this". She has an austere look on her. Foreboding and cunning at the same time. Peeta does not want to mess with her.
The man continues reaping. But before he utters a sound, someone in the crowd immediately volunteers. The boy's blonde hair contrasts with Clove's dark-brown hair. But in the same manner, maybe even more menacingly-if that was possible-he swaggers over to the stage, demanding all attention. The crowd hushes all at once, as if by the command of his dark eyes, and watches him walk up the stairs to the stage, determined that he is going to win this year. Peeta is awe-struck. Katniss just watches him with contemplative eyes.
"My name is Cato—"
"Okay then," Effie suddenly skips ahead, yanking the boy and girl back to reality. "That was good, but we don't have all night." She says in her annoyingly chirpy voice. The rest was a blur to Peeta, he remembers seeing a red-headed girl from District 5 stick out in his memory, but can't quite place her name. And there was a strange duo from District 11, a towering boy and a small girl. But that's all he remembers, thoughts of that boy from 2 in his head. Cato was his name. If there's anyone to be wary of, it's that boy.
Back in his room, Peeta returns to his perch on the windowsill. Now, the sun rests heavenly atop the horizon, its warm rays spreading far and wide, casting a tender glow across the world. The clouds reflect the soft pink and orange hues like brush strokes. The sky looks starkly similar to a beautiful painting.
Sunset. Peeta's favorite part of the day. Gazing at it calms him with its soothing colors. The sight warms Peeta, coaxing his lips to form a small smile. The only one, today.
Prying his eyes away from the lovely view, Peeta retires to his plush bed. Thoughts of the day starting to fill his mind, one-by-one.
His parents' argument. The reaping. Prim's name being drawn. Katniss desperately calling her name, so different than what she is now. Then, his name being drawn.
After that, it's mostly fuzzy. He met his parents in the Justice Building. He tries to block out his mother's coldness. He tries to forget it when she said Katniss might actually win, but he tries with no avail. Then Mabel walks in and gives him the coin. It's the only thing keeping him from spiraling into depression, emanating hope from its metal body.
It's still in his pocket, he remembers. Sitting up, he fishes it out and places it on his nightstand caringly. If there's any reason he should return, it's because of that promise he made with her, he concludes.
And with that settled, he climbs back on to his bed, squeezes inside the covers, and falls into sleep.
...
Peeta lays sprawled atop a meadow of grass, his face bleeding. It's the arena and the Games have started. Collapsed on the dirty ground, paralyzed from head to toe, he can only move his eyes. Footsteps sound to his left. They're light, but gaining on him steadily. They edge closer and closer, walking certainly and deliberately. Then Katniss comes into view, her hands grasping a bow and arrow, ready to fire at any moment. Her face is eerily serious, an expression of nothingness, as if this is just like catching game for her. As if he's a defenseless turkey, and she'll be eating him soon enough. Then, unexpectedly, it violently shifts to a scowl. A vicious scowl so filled with hatred it burns into Peeta's eyes.
No, Peeta could barely mouth the insignificant word before she lets her hand loose.
"NO!" Peeta screams in actuality, jolting upright in his bed. His body is sweaty and his breathing is rapid. His eyes are open wide, terrified. It takes him a few moments for him to calm down before he collapses backward, exasperated.
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