Arghh the angst
Madge
I crumple to the ground. Perhaps not seeing the phone smash on the ground, perhaps not hearing the crash.
Definitely not caring.
. . . I am the biggest idiot in the world. It was an overreaction right? Easily fixed – If I had a phone.
Shit.
I may be in a building full of people but without him I feel so alone. I need him to survive the ordeal my life has become.
To stop me from returning to the mess I was almost a year ago.
Now there is no one.
He must hate me so much. That knowledge hurts way more than any physical pain. He hates me.
Love of my life and he probably hates my very being. He's probably laughing right now, chortling with some girl way more gorgeous than me saying how he doesn't care at all. He's probably with some ridiculously beautiful, normal girl, someone who isn't broken, someone who doesn't call in at night in hysterics, someone who can be his and only his. Someone he deserves.
It may be incredibly selfish of me and incredibly stupid but just the thought of him with this imaginary girl almost kills me.
Keep your head Madge. You have lives depending on your for their safety.
The prep team raps on my door – I can hear their mindless giggles about some insignificant piece of gossip that they will have forgotten by tomorrow.
Here to take this broken, plain mess and attempt to turn her into a gorgeous, together woman.
An impossible feat if you ask me.
I allow them to drag me into the all-too-familiar white room and force me into the chair whilst they resume their usual torture.
After I resemble a ready-to-cook chicken more than a person they lead me to Cinna. I've missed him.
Cinna looks pretty much the same with his slick of gold eyeliner and short hair. He has a forest green t-shirt on today though.
We embrace and he swings me around the black room.
"Hey Madge!" His voice has the same easy tone to it and seems to melt like butter. He makes me forget about Gale for a while and focus on getting either his brother or Peeta's mom home. Then there's the rebellion.
"What's wrong Midge (he gave me this nickname as apparently its short for midget –thanks)"
I absentmindedly play with my fingers as I force out the words "Me and Gale broke up".
He sweeps me into another bone-crushing hug at the word 'broke' "Aww Midge – you know what we need to do now don't you?"
He must see my questioning look as I have no idea.
"Make him eat his heart out" As he says this he pulls out a gorgeous dress. It's almost the exact same blue as my eyes and looks very short. The bodice is tight with thick straps and stops just above my breasts and the skirt flows out.
When I slip it on the material feels like butter against my skin, it smells fake scented bluebells.
Cinna sits me down in the makeup chair and does his magic.
Just to annoy me he decides to cover up the mirror until the – as he calls it – 'final unveil.
The powder makes me sneeze.
I stand there not knowing exactly what to do in the seconds before he lifts the curtain. He just grins as he whips it off in a move a magician would be proud of.
I do look great. The blue dress shows off by curves all while bringing out the blue of my eyes. My eyes are surrounded in black eyeliner and lashings of mascara. My cheeks are brushed with a golden-peach colour which adds life to my pale skin and my lips are brought out with red lipstick. My hair is loose and flowing around my shoulders and the black heels elongate my legs.
It doesn't feel right. My heels pinch uncomfortably at the toes, I have to keep pulling down my dress in order for it to appear decent, there's eyeliner in my eye. This outfit isn't me. I should be used to this by now – it's the fucking capitol for pete's sake but.
I hate it.
Cinna shoots me a pitying look at my obvious discomfort and his arm finds its way around my shoulders.
Too thin to be the arm I crave but comforting all the same. My head falls onto his warm velvet coated shoulder. My arm around his waist. We stand in silence. Words aren't needed to get across our message, a team, comrades, together. The simple comfort of human touch.
All too fast it's time to get out there and I bite my nails nervously remembering the disasterous prepping the day before.
The nail varnish tastes disgusting.
Rory what can we portray him as? Too young to be sexy. Not funny enough to be funny. Not charming enough. Not threatening enough. Not blood-thirsty enough. Not innocent enough. He is that annoying medium. Not innocent but not threatening, not boring but not funny, not rude but not charming. By the end we decide to show him as a hardworking family man. Quick decision before I hit him for being so – middle-y.
Henrietta was easy. Bitch.
My feet pound against the painted white floor, black shoes becoming slightly scuffed. I only stop when Johanna puts what appears to the audience and cameras as a comforting hand on my knee.
Only I can feel her nails digging in.
Ceaser is mustard yellow this year. Sort of makes him look severely ill. His powdery white skin looking grey in comparison to the ugly mustard of his hair and eyebrows.
He sits on a psychedelic chair that gives you a headache if you stare to intensely. Unfortunately it's so bright you can't help but look at it.
A vicious cycle.
Something feels wrong. Flickerman's eyes are darting everywhere as if looking for an escape route. Johanna, Finnick and some other victors from underlying districts (Finnick obviously being the exception) seem on edge.
Something's about to happen.
"To kick us off hereee's Princess from District One" I snort and hear others around me follow suit. What kind of name is Princess? I know its District One but come on.
I snicker more when she comes out. She is massive. Blue veins bulge out of her thick neck and strong arms. Her legs resemble tree trunks and she has a bigger chest than most of the boys. Her jaw length white blonde bob doesn't really help nor do her small deep-set forest green eyes. When she looks at me I feel like I've been gutted already. Shit she's going in with Rory. Err and Henrietta.
Princess ain't no princess.
She scowls at the crowd – looking like she wants to EAT some of them. I'm not surprised that Ceaser looks alarmed. I hear Haymitch grumble in the background. Someone in the crowd with neon green hair wipes their nose. The air smells slightly like burnt sugar. Princess' heavy footsteps seem hours apart and ridiculously loud. As if everyone's holding their breath – waiting.
Someone whistles, Johanna's arm twitches annoyingly but everyone's too scared of her to tell her to stop, the wind feels cold against my bare legs. Step. Step. Step.
It happens in a second. One second Princess' found seems to sink into the stage and the next there is a loud sound and a liquid that tastes disturbingly like blood covers me. Sparks fly through the air, fire ravages the stage. Strong arms grab me and pull me harshly across. The thick smoke is too disorientating to know which direction.
I could be heading upwards to the blinking moon for all I know. Or care.
I feel my body get kicked and fall off what must be that white painted stage – its black now. Well what's left.
The air is slightly clearer down here and all I can see is a large man with a black ski mask obscuring his face. No recognition.
I'm going to die.
The last thing I do before the blackness overcomes me seems to be a reflex. As if my feelings are so deeply engrained that in the time where I am so scared. So, so incredibly scared they're the only thing I turn to for some relief.
"I LOVE YOU GALE"
Then I slip into the darkness.
Gale
I don't want to.
I don't want to.
I don't want to.
I have to.
I don't want to have to spend hours standing in a crowd watching my brothers final day of safety, watching her.
I don't want to.
I don't want to.
I have to.
I tell Katniss and Peeta this when I find them in the meadow. Not stopping for a second to question the blissful happiness on their faces, why they're together – because I already know and detest them for it.
It is selfish to want to drag them out of euphoria to join hell with me?
Am I being a tad overdramatic?
Probably.
Am I dangerously resembling a fifteen year old girl?
Definitely.
I shrug off Katniss' awkward hand on my shoulder and ask her "Do I have to watch"
Apparently she's over the whole 'feel sorry for Gale' as she says "Gale it's a mandatory viewing – the clues in the name"
"Yeah you really shouldn't talk" She hits me over the head and she hits Peeta to as he snorts. She stuffs herself between us and we chat idly for a few hours as the sky darkens.
Me being generally miserable. Peeta trying to cheer me up. Katniss working hard not to just shoot the both of us – just to shut us up.
Apparently sad people make her feel awkward.
I guess I should be more considerate.
I run my thumb over the slight Goosebumps the chilly wind has given me as I deliberate my options.
Give in and watch my brothers presumably fighting talk (he's always been cocky) the day before he's sent to his and 23 other peoples personal hell and also at the same time watch the girl I'm in love with – who just broke my heart – who will undoubtedly look stunning thanks to the Capitol and generally good genes which will be torture.
Or die.
I'm actually considering this.
Although the latter could be quite hazardous to my health.
Although at this point Option one could result in option two.
Crap.
Anyway after explaining my choices to my extremely frustrated friends they knock some sense into me (literally) and I find myself walking towards my impending emotional doom.
I doubt Katniss and Peeta thought they'd spend today talking their recently heartbroken friend out of suicide.
The weather matches my mood.
I'm standing in a growing puddle as the rain pours down but I really don't have the energy to move.
When the Capitol emblem appears on the screen I almost have a panic attack.
Not interested in the career districts people around me faff about, talking obnoxiously loudly, the richer merchants snacking – completely disregarding the hungry seam faces surrounding them. I hear some random woman complaining about the weather and resist the urge to shush her.
23 people are about to die and all she cares about is that she has to stand in the rain.
It's not cold though, although we are a small district there is still plenty of warm bodies to go around.
Who needs fancy capitol heated floors when you have overcrowding.
The Capitol emblem fades into the same propaganda crap.
Completely objective? Yeah right.
Biased sods.
My eyes are attacked with a multitude of clashing colours as the stage is brought into view.
Ceaser looks ridiculous as per usual. Mustard really?
My eyes quickly avert from Ceaser and one face stands out.
Finnick Odair. No not really Madge.
She does look beautiful but I know my girl. She's uncomfortable. More than usual.
She keeps pulling down her almost indecent dress (not sure whether I mind this or not) or fiddling with her glowing hair or biting her lip and playing with her hands.
Johanna Mason puts an uncharacteristically comforting hand on her knee.
Actually thinking about it everyone looks nervous.
Some victors look like they're planning an escape route – almost bursting out of their seats and their eyes darting in a million directions.
Ceaser's normally confident voice almost wobbles as he introduces the first 'lucky' tribute.
Princess.
For once the district is united by sniggering at the unfitting name. She is for lack of a better word vast.
No one really cares much about her. I do. Prim does. The people who know someone in there does. She looks like she could crush a man in her hand.
My eyes find Madge again. Perhaps searching for a sign – however small. Just a tiny sign that maybe she misses me, regrets breaking up. I don't know anything. Instead I find her watching Princess' footsteps intently, she looks so tense I want to dig my fingers into her back and relieve it all.
Although last time I tried I might have made her cry.
Someone in the crowd coughs. An unusually heavy footstep. The smell of smoke mixes with some form of meat that the butcher is selling at the side. It smells delicious. It smells expensive.
I hear a bang and after throwing myself in front of a terrified Posy I realise it isn't coming from this District. It's coming from the screen.
Madge.
The screen is filled with a thick grey smoke. No give. Apart from the splatters of blood.
Evidently in the Capitol they forgot to turn off the camera – or they wanted us to see this.
Screams are heard from both sides of the screen. The screams of those on the frontline in the Capitol and the screams of those watching. Before I can stop I'm screaming Madge's name. In the corner of the screen I can see the building holding the tributes still standing so assume that Rory is ok.
She can't die. She can't die. She can't die. She can't die. She can't die. She can't die. She can't die. She can't die.
It's so faint I doubt that anyone not straining for any signs of her life would hear it above the chaos but it does more damage to me than that bomb ever could.
"I love you Gale".
She's dead.
Nothing like a crappy cliffhanger to finish a chapter BTW sorry I have been away a close family member almost died so you know. Actually writing all this fanfiction was a great distraction – they just don't have internet and I kinda can't upload from a phone :L Anyways hope you enjoyed.