Just as soon as I fell into the world of sleep, I was snatched right out of it by the painted claws of my mother, Abigail Snow.
Although she's only mentioned it to me once, my mother's birth name is Carla Drow. Of course, upon marring my father, there was no need for her maiden name but the reasoning behind her changing her first name is, to this day, unknown to me. Perhaps it was peer pressure that made my mother into what she is today. If that's the case, what does that spell out for me in the future? In pictures that are older than I am, she had beautiful rust colored hair and eye brows to match. She looked so much simpler than she does now, after marring into the family that presided over the Capitol.
She was so much beautiful to me then, than she is now.
After two failed attempts of waking me up by the sound of her heavenly high pitched, thick accented voice, I finally heard the footsteps of my mother retreat from my bedroom. I let out a silent sigh of relief as I sank further into my bed, preparing myself to fall back asleep.
My ears twitched slightly as the quick footsteps of my mother reentered my bedroom. The stopped at my bedside, as I could feel the slight heat that radiated from her person on my arm that hung on the edge of my bed.
A few moments passed before my mother took a light hold on my hand and dipped it into a bowl of freezing water.
Her satisfied smile is the first thing I see when my eyes shoot open in response to the cool liquid.
"Wake up, wake up, wake up!" She chanted, placing the small cup of water onto my bedside table. "The Chariot Runs and tribute interviews are set to begin in two hours, and you haven't even chosen your outfit for the day yet," she explained, pulling the warm cover from the rest of my body, exposing my warm skin to the cool temperature of my room. "Come, come, Aileta will help you get ready for the day."
I watched with squinted, frustrated eyes as my mother walked out my bedroom door only to replaced with our Avox, Aileta.
I flashed a small smile her way before I finally swung my legs over the side of my bed, willing myself to get up.
I made my way to my restroom, hearing Aileta quietly trail behind me. Before she entered the restroom, I turned on my heel to face her, a smile faintly on my face.
"Aileta, instead of helping me get ready, could you decide what I should wear today? I think I've got everything covered in here." I gestured to the restroom I stood in, showing her that I didn't desire her help with anything in the bathroom.
I couldn't. It's one thing to help around the house, but it's something else to be forced to aid someone with their personal responsibilities - including their personal hygiene. Although it may defeat her purpose, asking her to aid me in those things would make me feel that I've given her the title of a slave.
Aileta gave a short nod and a light smile as if saying thank you. I also nodded lightly before reaching for the silver door knob of my bathroom door, and shutting the door lightly.
My mother may treat Aileta as a slave, but for me, she's the closest thing I have to a friend in this household.
After taking a shower and gracing my face with the light makeup that I wear occasionally, I finally emerged from my restroom allowing the last plums of steam to escape from it's holdings.
My eyes instantly caught onto the simple, sweetheart neckline dress that laid upon my bed, grouped with a small pair of silver heels that Aileta knew I could survive in.
With my towel wrapped around me, I walked over to the dress and gently lift the right side of it, admiring it's simplicity.
I quickly dawned the quaint dress and shoes before I fixed my hair, just allowing my brown curls to fall against my shoulders gently.
As I was admiring the dress that Aileta has so perfectly chosen for me, said Avox opened the door of my room, a light smile gracing her lips.
I walked over to her, and held my hands out to her.
"Thank you Aileta," I expressed, taking hold of her hands gently, "I love it."
Her smile grew as my mother walked into my bedroom, eyeing Aileta before her eyes flashed down at our hands, which were still held within each other.
"Ready, Chriselda?" She asked, eyeing the both of us as Aileta allowed her hands to drop before dismissing herself from my bedroom.
I rose my eye brows to my mother before following Aileta out of my bedroom into the family room.
My mother's footsteps followed behind me as she made her way to the front door, picking her jacket up from the armchair that sat before the unlit fireplace.
"Grab a coat, it will be chilly today." She instructed, pulling the door open before disappearing into the daylight outside.
I followed her and walked over to the front door, taking the jacket that I had worn the night before that Aileta and I have kept a secret between us two. Before exiting through the front door, I looked back at Aileta who's eyes were trained on the ground beneath her.
"Aileta," I called out to her. Her dark, pupiless eyes looked up at me, surprised. "I'm sorry," I offered, not expecting much of a response.
She simply nodded her head and forced a smile onto her face. She waved to me as I finally followed my mother through the front door, once again locking it behind me as I carefully step down the steps that led to our front door.
My mother sat silently in the car that awaited us in the road before our home. I crawled into the contraption and pulled the door shut before I looked over to my mother, who's green eyes were already trained on me.
"How many times do I have to tell you to not treat that thing like it's human?" She scolded, in a hushed tone so our driver wouldn't hear, seeing as he also is an Avox.
I tore my gaze away from her eyes to look out the car window as it pulled away from our walkway, towards the Capitol's stadium.
"Chriselda, answer me."
"I guess until those things tell me themselves that they aren't human," I responded, not making an effort to look at her.
She scoffs lightly at my cheeky remark.
With that marks the silence that will plague us as we made our way to the Capitol's stadium. Not that the silence bothered me, moments like these with my mother are few and far in between - she always seems to have some sort of gossip, or rather "Important News" about some of the important people within the Capitol.
She knew I never listened to her rants, but I suppose she just enjoys hearing the sound of her own voice.
As we pulled up towards the heavily guarded and lit stadium, my mother taps me on the shoulder, gaining my attention.
"Behave yourself," she warns, her eyes burying themselves into my own.
She maintains this gaze as she unlocks her door and steps out the car. I take a few moments for myself before following her out of the car, making it a point to shut the door a little harder than what's needed.
"Behave yourself." I whisper to myself until the two words bounce around my head endlessly.
And so I do, just like how a good Capitol girl should.
The chariot runs and tribute interviews fly by faster than I had expected. I blame it on the fact that I was too busy focusing on how to behave than criticizing all who found delight in these events.
I was, however, able to admire a few of the tributes outfits which represented the purpose of their district.
District four had the tributes that interested me the most. The male and female tributes were dawned with beautiful blue robes and simple but intricate crowns that glistened as the light hit them. As they passed by the President's balcony, which I had the privilege of sitting at, their chariot released a wave of water behind them that also glistened beautifully as it landed on to the cement floor beneath it, almost causing district five's chariot to slip off of the way.
I almost failed to hide a chuckle at this silly stunt.
The district that I had missed the announcement of it's tributes the day prior also had their tributes adorned in a costume that had the ability to capture anyone's eye at a simple glance. The female tribute from district thirteen was dawned with a long, flowing black dress that had light, planned yet chaotic splatters of green and purple paint which represented their districts purpose for Nuclear resources. The female tributes dark brown colored hair contrasted perfectly with the dress that shaped her body so closely. Her dark brown eyes were fearful as she looked up at the President's balcony as their chariot passed. The male tribute, however, looked up at the President's balcony with every bit of disgust and hate that could be conveyed in someone's eyes. He wore a simple black suit, with an iridescent effect that reflected the graphite that was cultivated in the thirteenth district. His brown eyes maintained it's glare on all those who stood on the President's balcony for as long as they could before his chariot was brought back to where it emerged from.
His presence made the largest impact on me, causing me to pay particular attention to his and his fellow tribute's interview with the immortal Caesar.
His name was Baron Edenthaw, and the female tribute's name was Lora Edenthaw, proving their relation of being siblings. They were similar in age, Baron being 19 and Lora being 18. Lora was much shyer and gentler than her older brother who took hold of the stage and those who watched, both in person and at home. He had no limits from what flowed from his mouth - all of his opinions and thoughts of the situation that he and his sister are in were voice across all of Panem.
My eyes widened just slightly at the last response that Caesar had received to his customary, "Will you win these Hunger Games?"
"I have no intention of winning the Hunger Games," Baron paused, "however, I won't lose to the Capitol in their games. That's all this is, just a game and entertainment for the Capitol and it's people," he added looking out at the audience he sat before, locking gazes with me for just a moment before mentally taking on someone else, "No, winning these games are impossible. You never win the Hunger Games, even if you are crowned victor."
My great grandmother, Jewels Snow, made no effort to hide her dissatisfaction of how the boy from district thirteen so easily talked down about the government that she and her grandfather had done so much to upheld.
This only increased my fascination of Baron, the boy from district thirteen.
Following the broadcast, Jewels made a Panem wide announcement, thanking all of the tributes for their amazing performances and their willingness to volunteer to be apart of the Hunger Games. With a short, genuine speech of the importance of the Hunger Games, Jewels wished all a good night and for the tributes to train and eat well. She finally closed out the broadcast with the same phrase that her grandfather used,
"And may the odds be ever in your favor."
I followed in the applause that boomed after, before following my mother and father out of the stadium and onto an elevator that brings us to the dining hall of the President.
Walking into the hall, we were greeted by many of the same people whom we dined with last night.
My mother and father were greeted with light kisses on their cheeks and I just a short nod or wave in my direction.
An hour full of large proportioned food, gossiping, and forced laughter had passed before I was fully addressed to by Kat Starr, Harper Starr's wife.
Her eyes were kind but held something that she did so much to conceal. She wore a vibrant yellow wig that had jewels on the tips of almost every strand, with vibrant pink lips and eyebrows to match.
Just another freak show of the Capitol, I thought to myself as I watched her mouth move, completely missing her question that was directed to me.
I stared at her before she waved her hand in front of me, a small, nervous laugh escaping her lips. "Anyone home?"
"I'm sorry," I replied, snapping out of my daze, "What did you say?"
I could feel the holes that my mother's eyes were making as she gazed at the side of my face.
Kat laughed. "I asked you what you thought about the interviews, they were quite interesting this year, weren't they?" She repeated as she placed a neatly cut piece of red meat into her mouth, chewing it slowly before taking a sip of her bubbling champagne. "Especially the two from district one, so very charming."
"Yes," I replied, "However, the interviews of the tributes from district thirteen were the most captivating for me."
"And why was that, Chriselda?"
My gray eyes snapped over to my great grandmother, who was now bringing her wine glass up to her aged lips. Her green eyes looked over at me from the rim of her glass as the red liquid slowly disappeared from the crystal glass.
I shrugged lightly, stopping myself from completely the action. "Young ladies don't respond to questions with shrugs," my mother once told me.
"I suppose nothing they said was truly captivating, I admit to missing some of the other interviews. I zoned out a little," I replied with a forced smile before looking back down at my plate full of red, bleeding meat.
"How unfortunate," Jewels replied. "I will have to notify Caesar to modify his technique then, I wouldn't want to lose you during the duration of the Hunger Games."
"Oh, don't mind about that. I doubt I'll be paying much attention to them either way."
"She means that she'll be too busy celebrating with her brothers on their promotion, they're coming home to visit in a week or so," My mother fibbed, her foot jabbing my calf beneath the table.
"Yes, my brothers," I agreed, fiddling with my fork in the uncooked meat that sat before me.
A wave of silence fell among us. The only noise being the light clinking of the silverware on the porcelain plates.
It was then that I got a sudden urge to escape. I excused myself from the table and headed for the restrooms.
Standing before a glass sink, I looked back into the reflection of my gray eyes in the mirror and took a few silent deep breaths. "Behave. Behave. Behave," I whisper to myself.
And so I do, enjoying every bit of gossip and showing my anticipation for the upcoming Hunger Games, keeping the almost rebellious words of the boy from district thirteen out of my head.