A/N: Thank you to everyone that has stuck with me during this story. Sorry about the wait, I will begin to update more regularly now! The is when the story gets interesting, the Hespers have arrived in the Capitol. This chapter is slightly longer than the others, but I hope you enjoy it! Please review!
It is dark, pitch black surrounds me and I think I've gone mad. It feels like the walls are closing in on me, suffocating me. In the distance, I can see fragments of light bouncing off a metal object. I gasp for air as I spring through the darkness, desperate to get to the light. The light becomes more and more incandescent the closer I get. Hope shoots through my veins, filling me whole, until I reach the object. I have to squint to see it; a very harsh light shines brilliantly on the item. The light is coming from Atticus. He lies on the floor, a spear sliced into his chest, but he is calm. Abrielle's there, she's very frightened, frantically trying to pull out the spear repeating, "I thought it was a career! I thought it was a career!"
Our bed rattles from the pounding coming from the bedroom door, and jolts me awake. I'm startled, but close my eyes once more. Maybe if I ignore them, they'll go away. The noise rings in my ears, echoing off the walls and dragging me farther away from sleep with every strike. Yasmin's shrilly voice fills the room, ordering us to get up this instant. She huffs loudly and her heels click-click-click to Yarrow's room. I push the straggles of hair away from my eyes and sit up. Everyone is still sleeping deeply, stretched across the over-stuffed Capitol beds. Atticus has no hole in his chest, and Abrielle's innocent face even smiles when she sleeps. I exhale deeply; it was just a dream. I shift myself as quietly off the bed as I can and scuttle back to my room, only daring to breath after I silently click the door shut. This is probably the last good sleep they'll have for a while; I won't ruin it.
The mirror. It's a spotless, beautiful mirror with gold edging that has been interrupted by my bedraggled presence. Mother and Father broke a lot of mirrors at our house whenever they were drunk, I didn't get to peek at my appearance much. I drink in everything about me, for soon I will be re-done by the stylists and I'll be a Capitolite, my looks distorted and shaped by their wants. My face is pale, bloodless. The dark circles under my eyes look like bruises. My eyelashes are long and dark, framing my cerulean eyes. I'd like my eyes much better if Mother didn't hand them down to me, this is almost the only difference between Abrielle and Atticus and I. They inherit Father's hazel eyes. I comb out my long hair in front of the mirror, unable to rip my eyes away from my reflection. Lying on the dresser is a red satin jewelry box, with yellow detailing engraved on the sides; curiously I open it and find a blue bow that matches my eyes perfectly. There's lots of jewelry also, jewels sparkling in every color imaginable are embedded in the silvery necklaces, rings and so on. Sapphires, opals, and rubies litter every inch of the small treasures I find in the box. I don't touch anything except the bow; all the gems look too precious. I think to myself this may be the only good thing the Capitolites have any decent taste in.
"Playing dress up, are we?" A nasally voice shakes my thoughts.
Naturally, I'm startled. I'm having trouble in the Capitol remembering that Mother and Father aren't here anymore; they can do absolutely no harm to me now. Still, I'm constantly on guard even though I know that I'm safe from their lethal grasp.
"You could learn a thing or too from me," I retort swiftly, peering into the mirror as I pin my hair back with the bow. "It looks like you've rolled in a bucket of colored ink. Dreadful, dreadful."
I take one last peek in the mirror and turn to walk past Yasmin to Atticus and Abrielle's room. She stares at the floor, blushing many shades of red under her popping purple blush. Her matching purple lips purse into a small line as I squeeze past her, clearly furious she can't think of a better comeback. I walk cockily past her and just when I'm almost free of her she snatches my arm with her long talons.
"Hey," she digs her nails into arm and bends down to meet my eye level, so close our noses are almost touching and I can see every fake eyelash applied to her eyelid. "I know you prance around this place like you'll be coming back in a few weeks, but you are a weakling, a mere child compared to those careers who will no doubt cut your throat at the bloodbath while I watch, laughing. You think you're safe because Pax has fallen for your little act, but I haven't and I will be sure he gets you no sponsors." She applies a thick layer of lipstick and blows at kiss at me after she releases me. It stings to think of Pax. His words cut me like a knife last night, leaving invisible scars.
"You're absolutely right, I saw how your act worked on Atticus." I spit back to her. Before she can grab me once more I bound to the door across the hallway, throwing myself in at the last second. I lock the door and take a deep breath, turning around to wake them up. To my surprise, Atticus is bent down on one knee, straitening her simple blue dress, covered with lace.
"Oh sorry." I mutter guiltily, surveying them.
"Ariana, look!" Abrielle cries, stretching a strand of hair with her thumb and index finger, then suddenly releasing it so it bounces like a spring and tightens back to a clean corkscrew curl.
"You look like a princess." I gasp, bending down to kiss the tip of her nose.
"The Capitol has everything! There's a black strip in the bathroom, all you have to do is step on it and place your hand on a silver pad. It shot electricity through me so I can be curly!"
"So pretty," I chuckle at her description, and then I take her hand and lead them to the hallway, peeking out the door first to check for Yasmin. We walk through three train cars with different purposes until we reach the dining were everyone else is already seated, as usual. I can tell this will be a long meal as soon as I shut the sliding glass door.
Virgil and Pax isolate themselves at the end of the table, they lean into each other whispering softly, but neither looks the other in the eyes. They also don't look up when we enter the room. I feel slightly wicked as I think of last night's incident with Virgil. For my actions, Atticus and Abrielle must pay because neither Virgil nor Pax wants to talk to anyone related to the cruel, bitter killer from District 1 I apparently remind them of. There goes any chance we could have gotten for strategy, angles, or skills. Yasmin sits at the opposite end of the table, staring daggers at Yarrow's twin brother and sister who are whimpering while being fed. Not wanting to sit by Yasmin or Pax, I sit directly in the middle, planting Atticus and Abrielle on either side of me. No one speaks to anyone; the only sounds are the babies fussing over the bottle. Yarrow tries to feed them and a low hum of two voices coming from a certain side of the table I won't even look at buzzes annoyingly in my ear. I cross my arms and stare at the grooves in the mahogany table, studying each mark thoroughly to keep my mind busy. The cries and whispers around me all fade as I gaze deeper into the pattern on the table…
"Ari," Atticus taps me, pointing to the table. The feast has arrived again, and despite not eating a full meal in nearly my entire life I find that my stomach doesn't ache for any food. I've lost my appetite, quite obviously, being in a place like this. Just when the whispering from Virgil and Pax's side of the table becomes too much to continue listening to and I think I may be the first tribute the murder her mentors, the clink of dishes becomes a new noise to distract me. I take a simple red apple from the table and start nibbling on the edges, while Yasmin piles a mountain of herbs and potatoes to her plate greedily.
"We got some news from the Capitol this morning," Yasmin announces with her mouth stuffed and her fork still poised in the air. "There are a few tributes showing interest in Ariana after her filth at the Reaping."
My ears perk up and my fingers unclench around my apple, I await the thud but it never comes. Atticus is leaning slightly towards me, palm up, with the apple in his hand.
"Nice save." I compliment in a raspy voice.
What could Yasmin possibly mean? Surely no tribute expresses interest in me? I'm half their size, possibly even three times and have no special training other than a few lessons with Sage on how to throw a knife. I furrow my brow and look around the table of confused faces.
"Excuse me?" I press on.
"Your inability to take care of personal hygiene has been rewarded. Some sponsors and tributes had the eye to see there was some splattered blood on your arm. You've come off as slyly vicious, I can't see it, but others are wondering. Care to explain?" Yasmin leans across the table and folds her hands.
"Well to do that would clearly ruin the surprise, don't you think?" I shoot back. I freeze very suddenly after saying it. I know Yasmin will force me to tell her, but I can't. It's private. I can't relive my life in District 5 when I'm hours away from home.
"Oh you think you're so clever. If you don't tell me this instant why you had blood dripping across your arm I will make your life hell in the arena."
"More than already so?" I cry out, desperate to avoid the truth. Atticus tenses clearly beside me, his face stone like. She glares at me, her face is pooping red and she grips her fork like she may stab me with it. Pax stops talking at the end of the table and watches us, expressionless. I still throw him a poisonous glare. Eventually an Avox enters the room and pours her more coffee, so she relaxes her grip on the fork and sits back in her chair.
"Moving on. The next news from the Capitol instructed that if you are above the age of four, you will be expected to be active in the training center personal evaluation and you must speak for yourself at the interview on your own. This whole announcement is for you, Ariel."
"Abrielle." She corrects hoarsely.
"You must start preparing to make me look good. You know Icarus from District 1 is really getting on my nerves. He is constantly bragging about new skin dye Caesar Flickerman sends him as a reward for rocking the interviews three years in a row."
"Make you look good," I shriek as I steal a glance at Abrielle's horrified face. She drops her spoon in utter shock at Yasmin's words. "Of course we will make YOU look good. You're not the one being thrown into the arena in a few days to fight for your life. Under this extreme pressure and mental instability I will be sure to take second out of my day to make YOU look good-"
"Yarrow," Yasmin interrupts me, holding her hand up to stop my words. " You will be in charge of the children at the interview and at training. Do whatever you must to make them quit crying, for my goodness sake!"
"Yes, ma'am." Yarrow closes his eyes at the wail of the little girl begging for more formula.
I don't know what makes me do it. It's certainly not Yarrow; he's never really been warm towards me- or even noticed me for that matter. I stand abruptly from the table, ignoring the ogling from the rest of the table. Atticus holds out his hand to pull me back, but I push him away. I walk to Yarrow's side of the table, not taking my eyes off the little infant girl. I hold out my arms and reach for the girl; wincing as the sound rising from her throat seems to be a nasty cackling. Yarrow turns the girl away from me protectively in his arms, flashing me a set of very tired, dark eyes that peer at me cautiously as I stand very still for the baby. He looks at me carefully, assessing whether to hand is little girl over. He's never had help his entire life with them; I can imagine how hard it would be. I try to think of handing Abrielle over to an almost complete stranger, but I can't. The more I study his face, the more I see blooming dark circles under his eyes that make him look more like a corpse than a living human. I wonder if he has seen his reflection lately; that might make him realize how tired he really is. Doubting my actions as I do them, I raise my finger and trace the dark circles under his eyes lightly. He seems to sink at the feel of my touch, following my hand with his eyes as I slowly touch the circles under his eyes that remind him of the last few nights. My heart races as I feel how cold his skin is, chilling my spine. Remembering where I am, I drop my hand and return it to the holding position. In response, he nods and holds the girl tight for only a moment before releasing her into my arms and handing baby formula to me. I rock on my hips to soothe her as I return to my original seat. Her cries seem to be dying out as she nestles into my arms. Everyone gapes at me unblinkingly and I speak up to stop the blushing.
"What is it?" I snap as the baby silences. She closes her eyes and I relax inside.
"Looks like she has a soft spot after all!" Yasmin points out to Virgil and Pax across the table, nearly choking on her potatoes.
"It's actually quite a gift," I hurl at Yasmin, suddenly uncomfortable and feeling the need to put up walls again between others and myself. I hate the fact that I do it so much, but I can't help a habit that's been ongoing my entire life.
"I have the ability to influence those around me to do what I want. I imagine it to be helpful in the arena." I finish hastily, immediately regretting helping out Yarrow now that Yasmin has found a crack in the brick walls I set up around myself.
"You're not a career sweetheart. Save it." Yasmin snips back, slamming her fork down on the table.
"Are you saying I shouldn't try?" My voice is low as to not wake the child but hinting I might hand her off to Atticus and slap Yasmin directly in the face.
The girl cries out, I throw Yasmin the nastiest look that is identical to the one I gave Pax as I quickly lift the bottle to feed her but stop as the same gravelly sound tickles the back of her throat.
"Is something wrong?" Abrielle voices my thoughts innocently.
"She's been sick for some time now." Yarrow says icily, not making eye contact with anyone.
We are silent the rest of the meal, which is completely fine with me. Everyone keeps their eyes lowered to their plates. I rock the baby gently; coaxing food into her until her bottle only has a few trickles of formula left. I feel so accomplished of keeping her hushed and feeding the girl her entire bottle that I look up from the table with pride only to find that, in all honesty, no one cares. My face sinks a little as I think this is how it will be in the arena. Stay alive another day, no one cares. Find food for your siblings, no one cares. Kill another kid, no one cares. I might as well get used to it.
The train lurches to a stop and Yasmin pops so high from her seat she nearly snaps her ankles from landing violently on her six inch heels. Not that I would care if she did. She looks out the window smiling and waving, and then she turns to us with a sour expression ordering us away from the table.
"Heads high; chins up. Ariana, try to smile and make a name for yourself."
I don't know why she singles me out when Virgil looks like she hasn't ran a brush threw her hair in a week. Just because she is positively mad doesn't mean I'll be kinder to her. I do think I would like her if she made an effort to help us, give advice and the usual mentor job. I hand the baby back to Yarrow and he smiles weakly, but thanks me none. He and I both know it's not worth it, no need to start a friendship now since we could meet an untimely death in a few short days.
As we line up to step off the train, my stomach jerks suddenly as it hits me we're actually in the Capitol. It's so unreal, so foreign to be in the spotlight once again as there is a crowd waiting for us to step off the train like there was when we left the platform in District 5. Maybe I wasn't so nervous on the platform because I was still in shock, or maybe because Atticus held my hand, but now I feel so utterly stiff.
"You have nothing to worry about, they will love you!" Atticus smoothes my hair and gives me a gentle push.
"Mmm." Is all I can reply as Abrielle twirls off the train. The image of her in my dreams haunts me as I think of her pulling out a spear from Atticus' chest. She can't lose her innocence; the Capitol will not force it out of her.
He says nothing else, but grabs my hand and squeezes it protectively, like a big brother would. Sometimes it's hard for outsiders to believe he is my older brother because I seem so much more outspoken and protective, but truly behind the curtain Atticus is much, much braver than I.
We aren't even in costumes or in chariots… I think to myself as Atticus lets go of my hand when we step off the train. To my surprise, I don't faint but rather my instincts take over and I walk with confidence. I still keep a fierce glare in my eyes, It's hard not to when these people are taking everything I love away from me, but Yasmin elbows my side so I let my lips curl into a small smile. Just one step in front of the other, and at last we're in the Remake Center. When we enter, flashing colors of purple, orange, and aqua blue are darting in and out of all the glass elevators. The prep teams screech to each other, point at papers, adjust each other's hair… It's absolute chaos. Yasmin shimmies us through a winding crowd, pushing and squeezing through any people we can. There are no other tributes that I can see, but knowing Yasmin we're probably an hour early. I hurl myself in the elevator to get away from the rushing crowd and take a deep breath. Yasmin stabs a button with a fancy scripted five with her long nails and turns to us to instruct directions.
"Each of you will have your separate remake rooms upstairs!" Yasmin shouts over the roar of the elevator shooting up to floor 5. "The door has you're name on it. Each of you will have two prep team members assigned to you! Try to be nice. Then, the stylist will make his way from the youngest to the oldest and dress you, or possibly make alterations!"
The glass doors glide open gracefully, and Yasmin shoves us out of the elevator roughly.
"GO! You'll be late!" She hisses.
Being the least favorite of the group, she gives me an especially forceful shove out of the elevator that I wasn't expecting. Her hand plows into my back so hard it knocks the wind out of me, leaving my lungs contracting and expanding desperately for air. My knees buckle below me and I collapse to the floor before I can cling to anyone. On the way down, dress catches on the mechanicals of the elevator and a nasty ripping sound rings in my ears. I clench my teeth as the gorgeous fabric ripples down my right side. On that side, a gash the size of a ruler reveals lots of scars and bruises that make me feel like I'm at home again. There's no hiding anymore, everyone can see what I try to protect Abrielle from. What Atticus tried to protect me from. Everything Pax could have saved us from is in view. The edges around my eyes go black, blurring my vision and causing panic inside my soul. I can Abrielle and Atticus' voices first; they grab my arms and try to pull me up. I don't respond to them, despite how much I love them, I can only stare in the elevator past Mother, I mean Yasmin, to Virgil and Pax. Virgil keeps her eyes down, not daring to look at me, just looking fixedly on her hand that is grasping Pax. Pax looks at me.
Gasp.
Gasp.
Gasp.
I try so hard to breathe, but this isn't just getting the wind knocked out of me. It feels like I'm having an anxiety attack. Inhale. Exhale. I give up on breathing steadily and focus on Pax.
When we make eye contact, his face twinges ever so slightly. The vexation in his eyes grows more and more intense as he stares down at me; eventually he pulls his hand to his mouth and looks away in the direction of Virgil. It's the last thing I see before the elevator closes.