Juliette Morgan flipped her chestnut hair over her shoulder, it falling back down and seeming to bounce slightly, like slow motion in a shampoo commercial. She examined her pearly white teeth, glossed red lips, her green eyes.
Satisfied with her appearance, Juliette pulled on her dress. It was as revealing as possible, a cherry red v-neck that stopped right below her knees.
Pulling out a gold cell phone, she tapped some letters carefully with her perfectly manicured nails. Stepping outside her room, she was careful not to fall in her heels as she tottered down the stairs.
Quickly getting used to them, she headed to the woods. Careful to steer clear of mud, she headed to a pond. A small ridge hung out over the pond. Underneath, five small mounds rose gently. A dark red stain was on the top of the rock, and a knife, perfectly clean and polished, was stuck into the dirt.
Juliette sat on the ridge and looked over the pond for a moment, thinking about those mounds. People had crossed her. They learned that she was not to be messed with. Soon, there would be 11 more mounds. She was going to volunteer for the Hunger Games.
Glancing at the screen of her cell phone, Juliette headed back to the city. Back where everyone was perfect, like they just stepped out of a commercial. She hated that. It was just an act, a charade, another endless lie. It was the screen the Wizard of Oz sat behind, the veil between the real world and the fantasy. Except that the real world was a fantasy. The real world? What sort of word was real? Who was to tell what was real?
Knives were real. The world seemed so much more in focus when you were pulling a knife out of a lifeless body.
Juliette, lost in her bloody reverie, almost walked into the wrong age group. Pulling herself together, she headed toward the 16 year olds. In a daze, she called out
"I volunteer!"
The escort looked surprised. It was highly irregular to call out before the name was actually named, but it would do.
"Introducing our newest tribute, Juliette Morgans!"
Juliette smiled. It was fake. The smile. The Games. The Capitol. Oh, the Capitol.
Thinking, Juliette thought of a poem.
Seem so
P/E/R/F/E/C/T
Full of laughter
Life, and
LOVE
But it's an act
A
PLAY
Of words, of games
P/A/I/N/T/E/D
S/M/I/L/E/S
Juliette smiled again as she was escorted toward the Justice Building. The smile didn't feel right. She was wearing so much makeup, it felt like her entire face was painted.
Especially her smile...