I stand in front of a mirror and realize that the impossible has happened: Cinna has made me beautiful.

I am dressed in a long dark gown that is so black I am afraid to look at it for too long lest my eyes burn out in the absence of light. The back laces up like my father's boots, which is good because there are no sleeves to hold it to my body. The dress hugs my hips and makes full breasts appear out of thin air on my chest. The best part of the whole gown though, I am told, is still to come. Cinna walks up to me and fiddles with a few things on the side of my dress. "You are going to stop their hearts with your gorgeousness." He assures me.

My arms are dusted with a shimmery coal-like powder, and my eye makeup is a dramatic raven black that curls across my cheekbones and makes my green eyes seem huge. I can't imagine what more there is to add to this get-up, but to be honest I'm having a hard time maintaining my aloofness to all of the glamour of the Capitol. It's like a story where a girl is made beautiful by a magic spell, I think, and it's true. I've never seen myself dressed in anything this nice, and cleaned up I actually look nice. My hair is wavy and tousles down over my bare shoulders. I'm on cloud nine, despite the circumstances under which I have entered this situation. For at least this moment, I can forget the games and just lose myself in my own reflection. My stars, I'm turning into a narcissist.

"Show time Prim," Cinna sidles up beside me with an excited grin.

"What're you so happy about?" I ask.

"You'll see," he smirks. "Although I could ask you the same question."

"I know it's terrible to enjoy any part of the Games," I confess. "But I feel like this afternoon is a fairy story. It's all so magical with all of the fancy clothes and happy people."

Cinna looks down at me and smiles, even though his eyes are sad. "Prim, if you can, I want you to enjoy whatever you get with the rest of your life. I don't know how life was for you at home, but I promise the Games will destroy that even if you do make it back- and I also promise that I will do everything within my power to get you back home."

We have arrived at the line of chariots, and I see Awren waiting for me dressed in a dark suit that matches my dress. "Anyways," Cinna perks up at the sight of Awren. "It's time for your surprise!" He pulls out a paper thin tablet, and taps at a few places. "Oh-ho-ho!" Cinna is practically giggling with excitement. "Look at you Prim!"

I look down at my dress, and stumble backwards in shock. I gasp in and out, but the air won't come in my lungs like it should. "I'm, I'm, I'm…" I'm on fire. Veins of light flicker across my once-dull gown and I have to resist the urge to claw it off my body to save myself from burning. "What is this?" I can't believe that the spirals of light haven't scorched my skin.

"You're a coal erupting in flames," Cinna grins.

"Whoa," says Awren.

I say nothing else. I can't find the words to convey my amazement. All I can do is flash Cinna a nervous smile before climbing into the chariot with Awren. And together we tributes from District 12 ride out into the storm of thunderous applause.

Tonight at dinner, no one but Effie can speak. Awren and I make exhausted eye contact across the rich stews and glistening meats that line our table. My mother pecks at her meal like a baby bird, slowly shredding a roll into her beak. Mr. Santo responds to Effie's chatter with weary grunts and nods, and avoids looking at Awren. Apparently, Effie is completely oblivious to our inattentiveness, because she is going on and on describing every miniscule detail of her day and her life and the parade and the tributes and her week and our week and the games and and and. It's as if she subconsciously senses the lack of energy around the table and feels the need to supply all of the conversation herself.

Sigh. I can't take much more of this, so I excuse myself quickly after the meal has been served. Awren and his father follow, leaving the peculiar couple of my mute mother and the logorrheic Effie. Our home in the Capitol – Effie calls it a "penthouse" – is huge. There is a separate bedroom for each of us, and each bedroom has its own adjacent bathroom. There is a "media room" with a screen that stretches all the way across the wall, and is no thicker than the nail on my little finger. The dining room is massive and bright, with huge open windows all around, and several glittering light fixtures.

I can't stand the place.

Every inch of it seems so disgustingly ostentatious. It's over-the-top extravagant, and I am repulsed by the wastefulness in a land where people a mere train-ride away are shivering under thread-bare blankets at night. I want to tear it down and make the Capitol live a night like District 12. I want to take away the buttons that can order as much food as you want whenever, and stuff them in the garbage chute where so much is wasted. Here I have a closet full of clothes that are tailored to my body, and I will never even wear most of it. Here I can make the room warm by adjusting a lever on the wall – or better yet, I can call an Avox servant to do it for me so that I don't even have to move.

I could just lie in my bed forever. I wouldn't miss school or work, I wouldn't starve or freeze. I could just lie here in bed forever and nothing bad could ever happen.

I pull the covers up over my head and seethe through the thick blankets. It's. So. Unfair. How can someone in District 12 never eat themselves full, when people here can order banquets to be delivered to their rooms and send trays back half eaten. Suddenly I sit up, yanking the sheets off. I dash to the bathroom and retch and retch, unable to keep the excessive food down. It burns my throat, but I know it is good to get this poison out of my body. I look at myself in the mirror, and feel nothing but disgust as I notice my stomach expanding out to accommodate the meal I just ate. How have you become like them so quickly? You're already fat on their stolen food. I resolve to eat no more than I would have access to at home for the remainder of my life. No point in dying looking like a fat pig.

Author's Note: Hey look I can actually add an author's note to my story! Haha what a noob. Anywho, sorry/not really sorry about the mood swings in this chapter. I loved writing about Prim's dress, but I had to make something dark for the chapter, right? So yeah, if anyone is actually still reading this, I apologize for the teenageryness.

On another note thank you to everyone who is reading this. Thank you twice to those of you who have followed/favorited this, and thank you thrice to those who decided to leave me a lovely review. Shout out to Danny Barefoot and Charliesunshine who decided to leave me two. I love all of you for reading this, and I hope that I don't screw up and make you all stop reading this.