It's hard to tell dreams from reality but I know this is a dream. In real life I can't breathe under water, nor can I wear a bra made of shells and a skirt of white mist. You can't usually run underwater either but I can and I am from a great big shark. I can't actually see him though; he's behind me but I can feel it and I just know as you always do in a dream that it's there and it wants me for its dinner. The schools of fishing darting past me in a panic also show that the shark is chasing me. I need to catch them up but they're so fast and my legs ache so they won't move any faster. They have to go faster. If I beat the fish I can find Don and Anna, I'm certain of it. They're on the other side of the dark wooden door ahead of me, I can feel it! I just need to twist the handle and-
BOOM!
I'm in the Justice Building back in District Four, kneeling down on the floor in one of the private rooms, heavily pregnant again. My eyes sting with tears as Anna, Don's sister, hugs me tightly. We're alone as Don wants to talk to her privately in a minute after I'm done I think - no, I remember. And Anna is telling me not to be sorry but to love Don and our baby with all my heart.
"If I can keep them safe then dying is worthwhile."
Anna had nobody to love her like Don loves me. She had no mother, no father either. She only had Don and he was slowly being sucked into my family and away from her because of the baby. We all tried to welcome Anna with open arms but she resisted, only ever talking to me. I never asked why though. I never asked a lot of things that I wish I had. I wish I'd stressed more how much I needed her to come home for Don's sake as he'd never been the same since. I am responsible for her death sentence. Now the Capitol is responsible for mine.
"The Capitol," I sob. They're the only coherent words I've said in this dream.
"Will look after me. At least I'll know comfort and luxury before I d-"
"NO! You must come back to us! Please win Anna! We need you! Win for Don! Please!"
Anna just smiles sadly at me.
"You must calm down. This isn't good for the baby." She tuts, stroking my hair.
I loved her hair. It was wild, free and bleached blonde from the many hours she spent in the sun.
"Only if you promise to win."
I stare deep into her eyes, silently begging. It wasn't just me being selfish or feeling guilty that made me want her back with us. Shock and baby hormones and the pain of reliving this horrid day all over again make these tears on my face seem so real. But my tears don't matter as Don's will be worse. He already lost a sister to The Games and his parents died shortly after. He needed Anna and I need them both. Fate is cruel. So is Snow.
"I'll try my best." Anna says quietly. Her eyes are cold and dead, just as they are in reality.
Before I can protest she collapses like a rag doll into a limp heap on the floor in front of me. massive white hands grab my shoulders from behind and start shaking me violently as I'm hauled away. The sound of my own screams clog up my ears and I can't see. I can't see! Make it stop. Make it stop!
Bright white light clouds my vision as my eyes fly open. I can't help but produce a cat-like hiss before I realise there are hands on my shoulders shaking me awake. instinctively I kick up as hard as I can because I am not at home. This light is artificial, I've never slept in a bed this soft before and the people at home know better than to shake me awake.
"Ouch!" Oh God, it's a man's voice. At least his hands are gone. I need to move before he retaliates so I roll. But the sheets are coming with me, dammit. Right, get them off then defensive crouch. Finnick Odair in all his tanned, Capitol-loved glory, of all people was on the other side of the bed clutching his stomach and glaring at me. "That's no way to treat your mentor," he scolds me. "And to think, I was going to offer you a sugar cube too."
"I don't want a sugar cube. I want my boyfriend and my baby." I snarl.
"And what will you do to anyone who stands in your way?" Finnick asks, raising an eyebrow and popping a sugar cube into his mouth.
"I'm no killer if that's what you're getting at. I can't even stand watching fish being gutted and deboned without almost throwing up." Can he hear the self-hatred in my voice? I've made false promises to my family. There's no way I'll win The Games without killing anyone. I can't even watch The Games at home. I'm too squeamish. Just thinking about it now is making my body tingle and tense up.
"Not even for your daughter?" Finnick asked.
Anna...
"She is safe. No one in the arena is threatening her life so I can't take theirs." I shake my head. It's not right.
"If you want to die can you tell me now? I don't want to waste my time." Finnick shrugs. He is so irritating! What do the ladies see in him? Just because he's so handsome doesn't stop him from being a selfish murderer with money and a title and no respect for agitated girls who have just woken up after being sentenced to death before being drugged!
"Of course I don't want to die!" I yell at him because I'm angry. I'm so so angry and he needs a bloody personality check. "But I can't take the lives of innocent children either!"
"What if they try to kill you first?" I swear to God I'm going to punch him. Hard.
"I- I don't know," wow, my anger drained fast. Actually, my head is feeling all fuzzy and my stomach so empty. It's a feeling easily ignored when calm or busy but now it's overpowering me and I hate it.
"What if I told you I could get you through The Games without killing anyone?" Finnick asked after an agonizingly slow pause.
"I'd say you were mad. Even if I could get to the final two without making a single kill I'd still have to murder that other tribute." I want to be sick. I can't so this. I just can't. But I have to do this. I have to win.
"What about the other tribute from our district?" I can't believe I forgot all about him and from the looks of things Finnick did too. It's not fair that Finnick focuses on helping me when Trident has a family to return to as well.
"What, you mean the suicidal boy?" Finnick asked.
Suicidal? Trident didn't seem to be suicidal to me. He's big and strong and much more likely to win this thing than I am. Finnick should recognise that and at least have the decency to remember his name.
"Trident. His name is Trident." I say bluntly. He deserves his name. He will not be just another kill.
"Well Trident was found trying to slit his wrists with the meat knife at dinner last night and then trying to hang himself this morning. He won't get in the way of you winning. He might even help you if you're lucky." Finnick's smile is grim as he sits on the far edge of the bed.
"So you're going to leave him to his own devices?" Can he hear the horror in my voice?
"Nope," He pops the p and looks directly into my eyes. It feels like his trying to stare into my soul but that can't be it. "Mags is mentoring him." Finnick pulls his intense gaze away from me and rolls off the other side of the bed, landing on his feet.
Without warning my stomach roars long and loud. Finnick's smirk makes me want to bury my head in shame but I can't. Instead I can only wrap my arms around my stomach while he says "You, madam, need food. Don't bother changing, just follow me for the best food you will ever taste in your potentially short life."
Again, I want to punch him for the joke about my life but my stomach is trying to eat itself so I can ignore it now. And if I'm honest, the way he's holding out his hand to me and that look in his sea-green eyes that are so like Don and Anna's are, I have this weird feeling like I can trust him. But can I trust my gut? This is the defining moment and he knows it too. Do I trust my gut? Do I trust him or try and go it solo? But I see the ones I love dearest reflected at me in his eyes, willing me to accept the help so I can return to them. I need all the help I can get so I have to trust this stranger with my life. Grabbing Finnick's hand, he hauls me with astonishing strength over the bed. That's it, I've accepted his help. I hope to God I don't regret this.
"Don't worry sunshine, I'll get you back home again."

When we arrive at the Dining Car Maybel, Trident and Mags are already seated at the table. I immediately notice there are no sharp objects near Trident. The only cutlery they've let him have is a blunt spoon and all of his food had been cut up into teeny tiny pieces so it's harder for him to choke on it. He looks so miserable, he's not even eating. Just pushing mushy chunks around the plate with the back of his spoon. I can't even imagine how he feels because we are so different. I want to make him feel better so bad but I don't know what to say or where to start. Is it worth it when we're both doomed to die anyway?
"Better eat up dear or they'll have to force-feed you." Maybel tells him with a sad smile before turning back to her food.
She must fancy him which is really wrong as he's at least ten years her junior. I was right about Maybel loving her food. Her plate is stacked high with at least ten toasted eggs and bacon sandwiches, not to mention a large bowl of fruit on the side. As she eats Maybel talks animatedly to Mags about something to do with a woman named Sludge and her birthday party (Maybel's, not Sludge's) but from the look on Mags' face she couldn't care less. I don't even think she was actually listening as she slurped her porridge through a thick straw.
"Sit. Eat." Finnick orders, placing his hands on my shoulders and steering me to a seat. A red-headed man places a dish of thick pink liquid in front of me alongside a bowl of fruit chunks. It looks nice but I don't trust it anything from the Capitol. I know they won't want to kill me yet but still, I bet it's drugged in some way. But on the topic of not trusting things, why am I choosing to trust Finnick? After The Games is he not just another product of the Capitol?
"Eat." Finnick urges me again. Shaking my head to clear it, I spear a small yellow chunk onto my fork and dip it into the liquid. Upon inspection it looks safe but how can I tell if they've drugged it or not?
"It's okay. The Capitol won't poison your food or do anything to kill you. They'll let the tributes attempt that in the arena." Finnick reiterates my thoughts. I love how he used "attempt". It's like he's already working on keeping me alive, even though we've not been really on the same team for more than five minutes yet.
"Eat." He demands for the third time. I obey and pop the fork inside my mouth. The food is sweet and unlike anything else I've ever tasted before. It's delicious. I can't pin the taste though which is kinda irritating but then again I've never been goof at placing tastes or scents.
"What do you think?" Maybel leers at me from across the table as she mops a little egg yolk off her chin with a pristine white linen napkin.
"It's nice." I don't want to talk to her so that's all she's getting from me.
"Good." She drags out the work and her sickly voice makes me ears bleed a little. I just want to go back to my room and hide away from them all while I ready myself for what follows exiting the train so I eat extrodinarily fast. Normally I pace myself while I eat because I'm used to having so little that I want to make it last. The majority of food on the table today won't be eating and it's the Capitol. Their wasted food for just one day could feed my entire district for a week I bet. Don would love this I bet. I miss him so much. I just really really need a hug from him right now. I also really need to get away from these people and be on my own again.
Without excusing myself, I jump up from the table and race back to my room. I'm not really full. I've never been full. I just need some alone time. This bed is so comfy, like Don's arms. I just need rest now so I can focus on the challenge ahead but I can hear Don whispering to me even though he's not here. Why does my mind torment me this way? I hate this. I miss him. I need him. I love him so but now I want him to leave me alone. I must banish him from my mind so I can concentrate and maybe sleep...

A loud knock on my door startles me awake, causing me to bash my head on the headboard as I flail in a panic. Spots cloud my vision as I groan in pain.
"Enter at your own risk." I call, cough slightly as my mouth is all dry.
"It's time for lunch. We'll be arriving soon." Finnick hovers near the door.
"I know you said they weren't poisoning my food but are you sure they aren't drugging it?" I ask grumpily. I never fall asleep that quick. Never. And I sound all funny too. Croaky and uncertain. There's this jelly feeling in my brain and legs and I hate it.
"It wouldn't surprise me," Finnick chuckles darkly. "But if it makes you feel better, I slept a lot on the train to the Capitol on my first visit too. I think it's our bodies' way of dealing with the shock of-"
"Imminent death." I can't help but finish for him as I sit up. It's not painful but my head feels heavy and I can feel my brain pulsing against the inside of my skull. As my hand rests on my tangled hair I swear I can feel it.
"You ought eat," Finnick advises me wisely as he perches on the end of my bed. He's looking straight at me. I must look like a train wreck to him. Is it weird I can feel how messy my hair is though I've not looked in a mirror for well over twenty-four hours, I'm certain.
"I'm not hungry." The automatic response is to deny hunger. Only the weak it. No, that's a lie. We all need food or else we die.
"You won't eat again until very late tonight and you'll need your strength." He sounds a bit like an overbearing father. I know he's just try to help but he's too good-looking for the dad act. Too young too. He must only be about 22.
Isn't it irritating how sleep gets in the corner of your eyes. I rub at mine and a tiny yawn escapes me. Am I really hungry? Will I be later? Probably but people in the district are always hungry. But still... It's free. And if I won't be able to eat... I might need to put on some weight if it's a winter arena as I'll undoubtedly need the extra warmth. Speaking of weight, this dress is rather loose-
Oh my gosh! I'm still in my reaping dress! And it's all crumpled and smelly! This isn't how her dress should be treated! She'd kill me if she were still alive to know I've done this! What am I going to do with the dress? How will I get it home? It means so much to mum and I'm sure Brina will look lovely in it. Maybe I'll ask Finnick later because the intense look he's giving me suggests that I ought to give in and eat.
"You're right." I agree and the beam Finnick gives me proves I've provided him with the correct answer.
"To the dining cart!" He exclaims, bouncing up of the bed.
It's so odd, seeing him act this way. I don't quite understand what the motives behind his actions are but they're making me smile without meaning to. When we reach the dining car it's empty with the exception of the table. Food isn't piled high this time. There are just two large bowls of steaming hot soup waiting for us with plates supporting small towers of buttered seaweed bread. It looks delicious and I can feel saliva welling up inside my mouth. I must be hungry. There's something missing though...
"The others have eaten already?" I assume after swallowing the spit in my mouth. Drooling would not help Finnick like me.
We've been placed opposite each other which I don't like. Usually Don sits opposite me and it took him ages to persuade me to let him. I hate people looking at me while I eat. I feel so self-conscious. But in The Games, people - Finnick in particular - are going to see me do much more than eat...
"Trident is being difficult," Finnick nods, breaking me away from my embarrassing thoughts. "So they're talking to him." He shoves a soaked piece of bread into his mouth and some soup dribbles down the corner and onto his chin. Charming. I bet he behaves better in the Capitol. He must do. No way would Finnick be so popular if he didn't.
"Oh," is the only appropriate answer I can think of as I sip the soup from my spoon like a civilised lady. This soup is delicious. I can't tell what the meat is but I recognise some vegetables. I can see why Finnick is eating it the way he is. I would shovel this into my mouth as quickly as possible if I weren't so conscious of my table manners.
We're so engrossed in eating that our bowls become empty pretty quick. The silence between us isn't uncomfortable either which is a relief. I've barely felt the train move all journey and to be honest I would have thought we were standing still if it hadn't been for the blurred greens and browns of the outside world. Now I can almost feel it slowing. Or maybe I just think that because the scenes outside the windows are becoming easier to take in.
"Care to look outside?" Finnick must have noticed me staring out the window.
"Not particularly." My voice comes out so much colder than I intended it to be but Finnick doesn't seem to mind if his smile is anything to go by that is.
"I need to tell you what's going to happen next, just so you're prepared. Okay kid?" Finnick becomes quite serious all of a sudden. We're near the Capitol. It's business time now.
"I'm not a kid but go ahead." I hate being called a kid. I'm a mother for crying out loud. People often forget that so it's instinctive to remind them.
"Well, kid, when we get off the train we'll take you to your prep team who will get you all nicely made up for the Chariot Parade this evening. After they've done all the cosmetic stuff you'll meet your stylist who will help put you in your costume. Any questions?" He asks at the end.
I shake my head only because it seems to be a simple, straight-forward process. What on earth is there to ask anyway? Finnick knows nothing more than I do about the events of the day so there's no point wasting our breath.
"Good. If you don't like what your stylist does, remember it's too late to change anything so just do what you can to make it work, okay?" That isn't exactly comforting as I'd rather not look like a fool but nodding is all I can do as I seem to have lost the will to speak.
As if on cue, the train pulls into the station flawlessly. I suppose that's one benefit of the Capitol. No lurching trains, just a nice smooth ride for the privileged.
Finnick doesn't hesitate to help me up and steer me to the nearest exit. We both know Maybel will stay with Mags and Trident so there's no point in lingering. I didn't bring anything with me so there's no need to go to my room either. It's straight onto the platform where schools of cameras awaiting us. I can't stand to look at these piranhas. Bowing my head is the best option and Finnick's protective arm around my shoulders helps to protect me from them as well as aid the beeline for the next location which so happens to be a car.
As I duck in it becomes obvious that there are large differences between travel in the Capitol and District 4. The windows in this car are tinted (thankfully) so I don't have to worry about hiding my face and the seat are made of smooth black material that might be leather. Finnick joins me in the spacious back seat, that could probably fit twenty more people with ease, and takes the seat diagonally across from me so his back is to the driver. As soon as the door is closed the car pulls away, taking us to a mystery location. Finnick leans forward to me slightly, his hands clasped together to hold up his chin as he stares at me. My skin tingles all over as it always does when I'm being watched. I want to squirm but for some reason it's more important to hold Finnick's stare. I can do it, I know I can. I hope I don't look defiant. I don't want that. I need to be calm. Calm is good. What is calming? Oceans. Waves crashing against the shore and licking against my shores. Resting my head on Don's chest and the rare lazy morning.
Wait, the car's stopped again. We can't have been travelling for more than five minutes. Following Finnick's lead, we emerge out into a large concrete space that is underground judging from the tunnel leading up into the white light of the city. Around there are a few sleek black cars identical to ours parked here and there in numbered spots but no other people. A row of elevators on the far side of the room hum quietly and it's to them Finnick leads me to. There aren't many elevators in District 4 as our buildings aren't very tall. The only one I've seen before is a rickety old steel think back in the Justice Building when I went for a tour in school a long, long time ago. These are sleek and shiny and probably made of real silver.
"Press the 4 button and the elevator will take you where you need to go. I can't be with you anymore but I'll come say good luck once you're in your costume, okay?" Finnick tells me all this with a reassuring smile.
"Okay," I finally manage to choke out in a hoarse whisper. It's not that I'm scared, not at all. I don't understand why my body is shaking so much. It must be the cold.
Pity fills Finnick's eyes as he places what I guess should be a reassuring hand on my shoulder but really just feels patronising.
"Relax kid, The Games haven't even begun yet."

These monsters have ripped practically every hair from my body, save the stuff on top of my head and the majority of my eyebrows. They even savagely tore out my nose hairs so now my entire body is red and raw. A stinging flies through me, keeping me awake through this torture. On a table level with my head Pricilla, the silver wonder, drops a flaming match into the smallish tin bucket that contains all of my hair. Green flames lick their way over the edge of the bucket which reminds me of beach bonfires at home. The last time I'd been to one of those Don and I...
"OW!" Serina uses the tweezers to yank a final hair from a very sensitive place on my inner left thigh.
My cry is ignored though as Desmond moans at Pricilla from the top of my head.
"Couldn't you have waited until I was done trimming her hair?"
"We can always light another one." Serina shrugs, putting down the tweezers and picking up a nail file to hack away at my feet.
Pricilla, Desmond and Serina make up my prep team and I have never before in my life actually met three people who look more bizarre than they do. Pricilla's skin is paler than pale and she has silver snowflakes etched into her skin, not just on her arms and legs but up her neck and on her face too. Her hair is like colourless wisps of wool that sparkle in the artificial light. I think that if she had wrinkles she might look old but there's not a single crease in her skin save her eyelids which is rather disturbing actually. I've known dolls wrinklier than her. Her eyes are the freakiest thing about her though. The irises are silver and her pupils are slits, like cats' eyes. As they stare at me intently I shiver all over. Looking at her you'd half expect to see two white kitten ears protruding from the pyramid of wispy hair or maybe a tail protruding from under her plastic tunic. It's almost a shame that they don't really.
Desmond is this tall thin fishing rod really. He has powdered red skin and strangely effeminate facial features magnified with more make up than both the women put together. His hair is a cropped, curly black mess with red streaks through it. His fingers are like the rest of him, long and thin that would work lightening fast - I guess - if the rings that infect them didn't keep getting caught in my hair. I can't see why that selfish man won't take them off. He's only causing more trouble for him and pain for me.
Serina is absolutely tiny and thinner than Desmond which shouldn't be possible. She's got talons for fingernails too. It's a wonder hold anything with them. Her ears raise to sharp points, as does the rest of her angular face. It looks so unnatural that the only explanation can be surgery, but I suppose that applies to the rest of them too. It doesn't exactly suit her. Neither so the rubies embedded in a pattern on her forehead. She might have been pretty as a little girl maybe but now she's an eye-sore.
As the three freak shows work around me they chatter away to each other about various topics such as parties and speculate about The Games and other rubbish that I'm not even vaguely interested in. It's surprisingly easy to tune out their useless babble too which is a relief. Thoughts of bonfires and happy times are all I need to concentrate on.
"You look marvellous!" Desmond clapped his hands together like a little schoolgirl.
A circular mirror is held in front of me. Nothing has really changed about my face, just stray hairs plucked out and my eyebrows have a more definitive shape. I look a lot cleaner too and oh lord! They've put streaks of blonde through my dark brown curls! They didn't ask my permission to do that! How dare they!
"Just wait until Willa gets hands on her!" Pricilla added dreamily.
"Willa? I thought my stylist was going to be male?" I can't help but speak. Every year, for every district, female tributes get male stylists and the boys get women. You see it on the fashion specials all the time or the final interviews. There's never an exception. Never. This shouldn't be happening. Maybe these fools got it wrong.
"Well Willa... She.." Pricilla frowned, unsure of what to say no doubt which is a pain as she's been talking non-stop for the past however many hours.
"He..." Desmond added, trailing off unhelpfully.
"Oh just say it already! Willa is neither male or female so she chooses to be female but also dates other women so she'll know exactly what to do with you." Serina exploded.
"Oh," Capitol people.They always make a big deal out of nothing.
"You should probably go meet him - her - now." Desmond quickly corrected himself.
Without hesitation I'm shoved off the torture table and pushed into an adjoining room. Stretched out like a cat on what I think is a sofa actually made from water is who I can only assume to be Willa. Her body is a light brown colour, ike dried up mud with cracks of spiralling black ink trailing like tendrils of smoke along her arms and lefts, barely concealed by a length of skin-tight fabric wrapped around her body in what I suppose is a dress. Black sandals wave in the air as she snakes her legs up towards the ceiling. A button nose, small and smiling mouth, quizzically arched eyebrows and springs of hair bouncing in all directions starting red and ending black make her seem... seductive and sly. Her eyes, like Pricilla's, are off-putting though. They're large yellow orbs with miniscule pupils that seem to stare straight through me. They create their own light in the semi-darkness, symbolising that the person around them is very much alive.
"I'm afrrrraid because of yourrrr late trrrrain I don't have as much time to get to know you as I'd... like." She sighs dramatically, purring the "r"s in a very feline fashion. "But no matterrrr. I shall know you soon enough."
There's a sinister tone behind her words which send a chill down my spine. Her face flicks so she's suddenly upside-down on the sofa, giving me a pointy-toothed grin that causes her eyes to grow impossibley wider. I try to speak but my voice is lost which only causes her smile to grow wider.
"Yourrrr drrrress is in the drrrrawerrrr over therrrre. Take is out and put it on behind the scrrrreen. I shall lace you in. Hurrrry. The parrrrade starrrrts soon." She instructs me, licking her teeth with a forked white tongue of all things. As if her eyes and teeth alone weren't freaky enough.
Obediently, I go to the drawer located inside the wall and pull. A huge compartment extends out and nervously I peer inside.
Holy shit. The horror. The puffy blue net of horror.
And it's too late to change it.
Kill me. Kill me now.

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