Chapter 13: The Game Has Been Set.

There are many times in my life where I simply want to forget about some particular moments.

Like the time I was forced to help my mother with her work when I was six-there was so much blood. Or at age 9 when the school tried take us down into the mines causing me to freak out.

I wish I could forget my father dying and the time I caught Gale making out with another girl during that awkward stage where we weren't sure if we liked each other in that way or not. Then the games. I especially yearn every day for me to simply wake up with no recollection of that horrid arena.

Unfortunately the list goes on and on. Building another piece to the tower. Stacking moment after moment on top of each other, creating some sort of internal hell and allowing me to fall even deeper into it with every event which takes place that I want to forget.

Like this one. And just like all the other ones it causes me to plummet farther into my hole.

I suck in a breath as Venia plucks another hair from my eyebrows using her monstrous pink bedazzled tweezers. "Honestly honey, how do you deal with these…these…hairy beasts!"

"At least she didn't cut her hair," Flavius sings, practically dancing around the room with joy since-for once-I actually took an order from him.

Venia shakes her head, sighing dreamily. "Why can't we just rip'em off and tattoo new ones on? Then you won't have to ever worry about plucking! And as a bonus they will look absolutely fabulous! Maybe we could do that…I'm sure Cinna would get over it…"

"No!" I object immediately. "Um…Cinna really wouldn't want that. Plus I'm pretty sure Peeta doesn't like that style very much. No offense."

The three prep team members smile. Aw's go around the room.

"Always wanting to make your man happy Katniss? Oh! You two are so cute!" Octavia squeals.

I plaster on a fake grin. "Yeah…sure."

I close my eyes as the three continue on with their normal chattering about all things Capitol trending topics at the moment.

Desperately, I attempt to ignore the complaints about how I haven't been taking care of myself well enough.

Instead I focus on using great effort to not flinch back with every strand of hair on my head that's tugged, or each nail which is being clipped and trimmed to perfection, or the singled body hairs which are ripped/shaved off my body.

I already feel way to exposed. It's only a matter of time where I gain the sense of being a naked chicken. Unfortunately that feeling is already creeping around the corner.

The clock drags on for entirety as I go through different parts of pampering.

First bathing using all sorts of soaps with other liquids I couldn't categorize if my life depended on it.

Then removing all hair, making my skin so unimaginable silky, and covering any rough cunning edge I have in order for me to appear the sweet innocent girl I'm not.

It's a relief when I'm meet with the phase of makeup and hairdo because at least that doesn't cause pain.

Luckily the last part doesn't take as long seeing as how they're going for a natural look.

With one last light stroke of a brush on my cheek the prep team steps back with wild grins, looking me over.

Octavia tears up. "I just can't believe you're getting married!"

I go for a smile but it comes out weak.

Fortunately today's not my wedding day. It's only the day where I try on dresses for all of the capitol, so they can vote on which one I should wear.

I think this will be the death of me.

Dress after dress. Material after material. Shape after shape. It all flies by in my eyes, through my hands, and up and over my body.

Only a portion of the wedding dresses brought here today will be shown on television which leaves me to try on more crap than is needed.

Currently the cameras and camera men are set up all around my living room, zooming in on my face or what I'm wearing. I giggle and smile, claiming how much I love it and that I'll never know how people are going to choose.

My mother vigorously works around the kitchen, desperate to please everyone with treats. Cinna has assured her enough times that it's not needed but she keeps insisting.

Haymitch simply leans on the door frame, away from the people, giving me sad smiles or half-hearted smug smirks.

At least someone feels my pain.

Effie continues to scold my mentor about how rude he's being with not joining the rest of us. What surprises me the most though is that the escort is able to simultaneously pester over how I walk, twirl, and the way I lay the dresses out which have long skirts.

Flavius, Venia, and Octavia sit on the couch, bouncing with their every move. They talk excitedly with each other in between times where I come out, with a new dress on, allowing them and my stylist to judge whether or not the clothing should be put on camera.

Then there's Cinna who stands to the side, nodding or shaking his head as the verdict, occasionally helping me put on a dress.

It's past lunch time now. I've been playing dress up for hours on end.

I stand awkwardly in front of my prep team while they examine me head to toe in the 30 millionth piece of Capital property I've tired on.

"No." Three voices, one reply.

Flavius claps his hands loudly. "Next!"

I sigh, my gaze landing on Cinna.

He shakes his head, throwing me a 'sorry' look, indicating the damn thing isn't right for camera.

Turning around I stomp my way back to the changing room, ripping it off and kicking my heels to the side immediately.

This is ridiculous!

In a flash I already have the next dress on, this time not bothering to put the shoes back on or look in the mirror.

I resist the urge to snap at everyone when I come back out with all eyes directed at me.

I barley get five feet away from the door before earning a response from Flavius.

"Absolutely not! It's appalling! I can't believe they put something like that in this collection. I mean she's a Victor not just some normal citizen off the street."

I flare with anger at his words causing Haymitch to rush over before I could lung at the Capital person.

My mentor places a hand on my shoulder, squeezing tightly. "Now now. Let's not overstep our boundaries. I'm sure it was a mistake."

"Yes," Cinna pipes up. "It's not a big deal at all. Venia, Octavia, what do you think?"

"Boring."

"Not fit for someone of your status."

My stylist sighs. "I must agree. It doesn't have enough…dazzle to it. We just won't include it in the showing. How about we move on now?"

Everyone nods in agreement. Haymitch steps back as Cinna comes to me, murmuring, "Don't listen to them. They're too spoiled to see natural beauty."

I frown at his words. Is the dress that bad? Or is it only horrible to them? I don't get it.

My questions, although, are instantly answered the moment I go back to the room and in front of the full length mirror.

The dress is gorgeous. It's simple, yet elegant. Beautiful in a way Capitol's people wouldn't understand.

They like big grand things. They would never notice the small beautiful things.

I can see where Flavius is coming from. To them, this gown is plain, maybe even ugly. But to me, if I were getting married on my own free will and I had money (which I do) to spend; this would be the exact dress I would get.

The two straps are made up of a beautiful designed lace which travels down my back and chest into a v-neck before spreading over the silk material of the gown. The top hugs me tightly, but not suffocating me all the way down to my hips and enhancing my curves.

Unlike most of the others this skirt doesn't flare out like the rest. Instead the soft material flows down my legs, rippling like waves at my every movement and shinning as if the sun hit it at just the right moment every single second. The same lace travels all the way down, adding a tad bit of edginess to complete it all.

The gown isn't exactly pure white but just the slightest off allowing my skin to almost radiate some sort of glow with my eyes popping out, shining brightly as well.

Were my hair in a braided bun all would be my dream. Screw that damn vail or whatever.

"You look beautiful," a voice murmurs breathlessly from behind.

I jump a little, startled by the sudden noise.

Shaking my head I look down. "I really like it…it's perfect."

"Then why don't you wear it?"

"I can't. It's too plain for them."

"Well then they're utter bullshit."

Biting my lip I hold back a laugh and instead settle for a small grin.

Finally meeting those striking grey eyes through the mirror I give in, not caring about the last two weeks. Not giving a damn that he ditched me last night and this morning.

"Come here," I command lightly, reaching my hand back.

He takes it, anchoring himself to me from behind and snaking his arms around my waist, head resting on my shoulder.

I'm to tired to fight. To tired to question his motives. To lazy to speak anything above a flying soft, whisper.

"What are you doing back so early?"

Gale offers a lingering kiss to the side of my head. "Didn't you hear? Capitol's people and camera crewmen are here. We get a free half day for this special occasion," he tells me jokingly, sarcasm dripping from his lips.

"Mmmm. And how did you end up here?"

Gale nibbles my ear. "I could practically hear you screaming your head off in agony from the mines."

Scoffing with disbelief I rephrase my question. "I meant in here. In this room. How'd you get in?"

He shrugs. "I snuck past everyone…except Cinna…and Haymitch…and your mother…and I think maybe one of the camera men. Doesn't matter though." His hands start traveling up to the straps of the dress mischievously. "We can just tell everyone I was helping you undress."

Not being able to hold it back any further I laugh, smacking Gale on the shoulder and shoving him away.

"Shut up! And get out. They're going to be wondering where I am soon."

"Let them wonder. We don't owe them anything!"

I shake my head. "Gale-"

"No." He rushes to me, cradling my face in his hands. "No, Katniss. I'm right. You don't owe them shit. If anything they should be doing things for you. Not the other way around."

I open my mouth to respond but he continues.

"Look, I know I've been really distant lately and I'm so undeniably sorry about that but, baby, you have to see that now is the time to strike back. To-to take down the-"

My eyes widen. I instantly cut him off, slamming my finger to his lips, shushing him "Gale! What are you doing?! We can't talk about this now!"

He grabs my hands bringing them down to my side's. "Then when?!"

"Soon! I swear!" I whisper shout. "But right now is not a good time! What are you!? Suicidal!? There are cameras everywhere!"

"Why not now?! Who cares if they hear us? We're gonna take them down anyway. Don't you want that or-"

"Oh no. Don't turn this around because Gale you know better than anyone that I do 'want this'. So I rather not talk about my loyalty to us and discuss you. Where have you been Gale?! I've barley seen you the last two damn weeks and now all of a sudden you're here, talking about you know what!"

"I said I was sorry!"

"Well that's not good enough! I want an explanation, Hawthorne!"

"Yeah and I want to be able to kiss you in public but we don't always get what we want!"

I throw my arms in exasperation. "You know what, this is stupid! Just leave Gale! I need to change."

Turning my back on him he snatches my arm, spinning me back round to face him.

Gale sighs tiredly, seemingly having to have given up. With his voice lowered he speaks, "You know what's stupid, Katniss Everdeen? Us. Fighting. I'm sick of it."

"Oh, and what do you expect us to do? Break up?"

"No, damn it. Of course not. Think about it a little Catnip. I mean why are we even fighting?"

I shift weight between my feet, eyes darting away from his. I shrug.

Gale pulls me to him, turning me so I'm facing the mirror with him behind me. "Exactly. Let's just drop everything, okay?"

My boyfriend gets a slow nod in agreement.

"Good. Now before you freak out no I didn't spend any money, but I do have something for you."

I frown slightly as he reaches back into his pocket to pull out a silver chain with a bronze ring dangling from the end of it.

"Gale-"

"No. I'm giving this to you whether you want it or not." Delicately he pulls the long necklace over my head so the ring rests just down below my breasts.

"It was my father's," he tells me quietly. "He gave it to my mother. She had it for a while until I turned 18 then gave to me. Told me to pass it on to a girl I'll always love." He kisses my shoulder lovingly. "The ring has been supposedly handed down to each eldest male of the Hawthorne family, then given to whoever he marries as a sign of love, loyalty, and commitment. I added the chain since I knew you wouldn't be able to wear it on your finger.

"Catnip this isn't a proposal. I know you're not ready for that and now definitely isn't the right time. But it's a promise. A promise from me to you that I have a plan and I'm going to make everything good for us. You'll see."

Squeezing my eyes shut I will myself not to cry as I grip the ring tightly in my hand, holding onto it for dear life.

Letting out a cool unsteady breath I turn to look at Gale and shake my head in awe and disbelief.

"I love you so much Gale Hawthorne."

He smiles gently down at me, taking my face in his hands once more. "I love you so much Ms. Katniss Everdeen."

And all at once his lips connect with mine.

I can still see his cold calculating eyes.

I can feel the ghostly shiver up my spine as the words left his mouth.

Hear the clack of his dress shoes while he walked, with confidence, to the podium.

Taste the blood in his mouth from the poison he consumes.

Smell the stench of white roses which he reeks of.

But most of all I can still feel the desire to die. To wither away into nothingness. To fall in a black abyss. To leave, escape, everything.

If only I actually could.

Because now, the Capitol has taken even that away from me.

And for what?

A few berries?

Or because I've loved and rebelled?

One Hour Before

"What do you think this is about? My pictures aren't supposed to air until tomorrow night." I lean over, whispering in Prim's ear.

She shrugs. "Maybe they're ahead of schedule."

"Maybe," I reply, but I feel it's more for my benefit and reassurance than anything else.

Maybe.

Maybe nothing is wrong. Maybe they already have the presentation ready.

Maybe.

I have a sickening sinking feeling in the pit of my stomach though that says otherwise.

My sister came home early today with the news from her teacher that there's supposedly a mandatory programming tonight.

So here we sit-capital's people gone-waiting for Caesar Flickermen to finish his useless announcements about foods, fashion, and money.

Just get on with it already!

In an instant he's there.

President Snow.

Walking across stage with a snaking smile on his face and a small boy in a suit, carrying a pillow with an envelope trailing behind.

He steps up to the microphone and takes a minute of absolute silence to study us all in the crowd and through the camera.

Finally though, he speaks. "I am here to announce-" he booms through the room, talking in that slow smug way. "The reapings of this year's Quarter Quell!"

Cheers, hollers, hoots, go around the audience in the Capitol.

Snow smiles, dipping his hand down to take the card from the little boy. Slowly, he opens it. Every crack and rustling noise from the paper echoing.

"On the seventy-fifth anniversary, as a reminder to the rebels that even the strongest among them cannot overcome the power of the Capitol, only one male…or one female, from each district, will be reaped from their existing pool of victors.

"And whichever lone Victor may be chosen, an opposite sex family member of theirs shall be reaped along side them to determine the picking of the second tribute. Those Victor's who fail to supply any living relatives will be paired with a citizen between the ages of 12 and 18 as their district partner."

For a second.

Just for a second…I forget me. I forget my name, my home, my family, even Gale.

I lose all sense of clarity as President Snow's words force a blow so powerful an ocean could move, a storm could strike, and the world could become soundless as death presents itself in its true form. A blow so vicious my body forgets to breathe.

Only one thought runs though my mind.

And it's not that I could potentially be going back into the arena. Or that now Gale, Vick, and Rory are also at risk.

It's not the fact that even if I'm not chosen to be the one Victor of district 12 to go in it will either be Peeta and one of his family members or Haymich and some other random tribute from here.

No.

What replay's through my mind is something much deeper.

The rules have been set.

The board has been drawn.

The pawns-us-have been decided and modified to best fit.

And the game has begun…with President Snow as controller.

He's out to get us.

Hey! I just wanted to thank everyone who voted. The response was…I don't know…amazing, beautiful, astonishing. I honestly hadn't expected such a huge response but I got one anyway and I just cannot express to you how much that means to me! So…I wanted to, again, thank all of you who have followed, favorited (I don't think that's a word but oh well), and reviewed this story.

Also a special shout out to love. eat. write. for your amazing suggestion (which I used) of how I should do the reaping. You're awesome. And, um, yeah.

Peace.

P.S. I know the beginning of this chapter is kinda bad and boring but I had to get through it somehow.