Train Rides

Dekker Mattson, 17

District Five Male

Dekker did not want to open his eyes.

It was a hard task, forcing oneself out of the dysania that he felt. It was not that he was sleepy, for he had not really been able to sleep soundly last night despite the innumerable comforts showered on him. he was just finding it difficult to get out of bed, the four-poster bed that seemed to be the only source of comfort in this wretched situation. Dekker had, after all, imagined a lot of heinous situations on multiple occasions, for Panem was just that kind of a place, but never had he imagined that the Games would be reinstated and he would be the first tribute from his District for this revamped version of this atrocity. Usually, Dekker believed in working to achieve his goals, working hard, but surviving the Games was not a general goal, nor a general situation. He needed time to accept that he had been Reaped.

And truth be told, that was exactly what Dekker did not want to accept.

So he just stayed in bed, his eyes shut, the darkness threatening to consume him. And yet, he desired to be consumed by this darkness, for the darkness at least had a fake light of hope that he was probably dreaming, having a nightmare so terrifying that it felt real. He was aware that, when he would open his eyes, that false hope would leave him too, and the light of the day would cloud his heart with true and lasting darkness. Hence, he remained still, still as a corpse, but Dekker chided himself for thinking that particular thought. No, he was still as a rock, not a corpse, and he tried to find withing himself the strength of the same rock, the strength that would help him survive… and kill.

Dekker was a man of character. Hurting others, killing… he had no idea how he could go about it. Had he ever intentionally hurt anyone? No. Could he kill? That was the question, the question he knew he had to ask himself, but he was not ready quite yet. When would he be ready? He had no answer to that question, for that was the question he wanted to avoid with all his will. He was in this bed, eyes shut, blocking out all the urgency, for he did not want to address the issue. There were a lot of questions actually, a lot on the line, but he was not ready, not ready, not ready…

The knock on his door was startling, and he almost jarred out of bed. However, following the initial discomfort at the abrupt sound, he pulled the sheets back on over his body, not willing to let go of the wonderful warmth that surged through his veins, the comfort of the sheets almost trapping him lovingly. Dekker refused to open his eyes even then, and let out a grunt when there was another knock.

"Dekker," Titania's voice floated in through the crack between the door and the floor, "It's time for breakfast."

Dekker was tempted to tell her that he wasn't interested, that being in his bed was far more important for his body than the food she was providing him with, the kind he could have gotten at home as well. He remained quiet though, for it did not feel worthwhile saying anything. Why would Titania care? She was as bad as the Capitolites, worse even, for they at least pretended to care.

"Dekker, come out. It's time we discuss how to go about things."

And it was this sentence, this mere sentence that was loaded with all the irony of the mighty and vast universe, that made Dekker laugh out loud, his eyes flying open at last. He remembered clearly how Titania had dismissed both him and Nell the previous day, telling them she had other things to do, important things, and there was nothing to discuss. And here she was, on this fine morning, knocking on his door as if she was his biggest well-wisher in this entire world.

"Dekker!"

The boy sighed to himself, the idea of getting out of bed still morbid, but now his eyes were open, and he could feel the sunlight from the cracks between the curtains. The sun was warming his skin further, and he sat up slowly, trying to convince his mind to force his body on his own two feet.

There was another knock, much softer this time, and instead of Titania's bossy tone, Nell's concerned voice pierced through the cracks.

"Dekker, are you okay?"

The boy sighed to himself as he set his feet on the floor, still not having gotten up. Nell, poor Nell. She had been nice to him despite the trauma she might be going through, being Reaped at the tender age of twelve. Yet, she had more sense than Titania, was far more collected than their escort cum mentor, and right now, was the one who was worried despite Dekker being her competition in this game for survival. He shook his head adamantly at that thought, for he did not want to ponder over the thoughts of the Game and death at this time of the day, and with a gigantic effort, forced himself out of his bed, away from the warmth and the comfort. He started walking almost mechanically, and as he reached the door, he was tempted to just go back, his hand resting loosely on the handle.

"Dekker, are you okay? Say something!"

He sighed to himself again and then turned the handle, pulling it towards himself, the door swinging inwards. Nell looked relieved to see him okay, and Dekker was surprised to see that she had already showered and changed. The girl looked solemn, and as the boy turned his gaze to the woman behind her, he felt himself scowling at this joke of a mentor.

"You took your sweet time."

Dekker did not grace her with a response, and simply ignored her, turning his gaze to Nell, who beckoned at him to follow her to the breakfast table. Nodding, he started walking after her, pushing Titania on the way with his shoulder.

Now that he was up, he was ready to discuss the competition and how to deal with it.

Estefania "Cupid" Sanchez, 18

District Eight Female

Cupid held the spoon in her hand delicately, twirling it between her thumb and index finger, looking at her bowl of soup with such an intense concentration that it was comparable to a scientist studying their experiment. In reality, she wasn't looking at it at all; she was lost in deep thought, thoughts of her life back home, her friends, her band, the numerous people she had helped in finding love. She twirled the spoon some absently, dropping it into the bowl, the soup rising up in a splash, but she took no heed. The movement of the contents of the bowl reflected on her own turmoil, the fact that she was Reaped hitting her hard. She was not in denial; in contrary to that, she was fully aware of her situation, mentally prepared too. However, no amount of mental preparedness was enough to make her feel a particular way, make her feel optimistic, and she was, indeed, sad.

The thought that currently occupied her usually vibrant but currently gloomy mind was that she would never find love. This truth, this one single truth hit her so hard that she was tempted to break into tears, tempted to run to her room and bury her face, a usually smiling face, into the pillow, and allow this same face to break her smile and cry and howl. A smile was a person's best ornament, but Cupid saw no reason to wear it. In the most likely scenario, she was going to die, and she would die unloved. The person who had worked for years to give happiness to people around her, to fill their lives with love and joy, about to die without the same. And the irony was so great that Cupid finally sobbed, a soft one, but a sob nonetheless.

She stopped herself from repeating the action for she aware of the eyes on her, and she knew she needed to look strong. Who knew, maybe there were cameras there, recording her actions, people judging her for the moment of weakness, family and friends worrying back home. Usually train events were not broadcasted to the public, but Cupid could never be too sure. Hence, she tried to calm herself down and took hold of her spoon again, turning it in circles in the bowl, but otherwise not touching the soup. It would turn cold soon, just as her blood had, and Cupid bit her lip anxiously. This would not do, not do at all. She had to get a hold of herself! Stop with her self-pity!

That was easier said than done.

"You need to eat in order to build your strength," Selina said, her brown eyes looking at her kindly, "Do you want me to cook something else for you, dear?"

"No, no, this is fine," Cupid muttered, kind of flustered. Selina had been nothing but kind to both her and Kespar all this while. She had talked them into watching the Reapings, and despite having the orders to cut on the extravagance, had done whatever she could to make them comfortable. Cupid appreciated her mentor's gesture, and it was only then when she took her first spoonful of soup, the dish still warm if not completely hot.

However, Cupid could not really force herself to be hungry, no matter how much she tried. Her appetite was dead, the way she would be after a few days.

Shut up!

She was tired of her own thoughts now, for she was not used to this amount of negativity. She could not help it though, her heart was still beating a little faster, she was still breathing a little harder, as her entire being was struggling against the situation she was thrown in, the situation nobody deserved to be in. She set down her spoon again, not even bothering to look at the other food items on the table, and turned to her District Partner, the boy who had been oddly calm about this whole deal. He was shaken up on the stage earlier, but now it seemed that he had not only accepted the situation, but was also planning in his head accordingly. He was quiet, and Cupid had noticed that he hadn't said anything much at all, and she found that to be pretty astounding. She hadn't spoken much either, something that was just strange for her, but her quietness was out of gloom and hopelessness, whereas his silence came from a calm mind.

They were not similar.

"What's the matter, Estefania?" Kespar asked, finally looking at her fully in the face, and Cupid frowned.

"It's Cupid."

Kespar did not respond for a while, to the point that Cupid thought that he was being disrespectful on purpose. Then, he nodded slowly, and said, "Alright, Cupid. What's the matter?"

"Nothing," Cupid sighed, "Just… I can't believe this happened."

Kespar let out a dry, mirthless laugh, surprising both Cupid and Selina, the two females looking at him quizzically. He stopped and sighed, a small frown on his face as he looked at them.

"I had an intuition it would be me. I was getting really paranoid a few days back. Call it sixth sense or something, but turns out it was right."

"Damn. That sucks bro."

"Big time," Kespar replied, his eyes moving to the wooden table, as if studying the patterns on the oakwood keenly, probably lost in some thought. Cupid wondered how she would have felt about being Reaped if she had had an intuition of this kind. Not too great, she assumed. However, probably she would have been more prepared, more accepting… Not that she hadn't accepted her situation, she certainly had, but it was still tough dealing with it. Despite being much younger, Kespar appeared to be doing much better than her.

"It really sucks," Selina said, making them both jump, for they had temporarily forgotten that she was there too, a foreigner amongst the tributes, an alien to their grief. And yet, she looked as if she could understand and empathise, as if she wanted to help.

"I need to ask you guys this question," she started, looking sadly at them both, but smiling just a bit encouragingly, this action making Cupid smile as well, "Do you want to be trained together or separately?"

"Separately," Kespar answered even before Cupid could open her mouth to respond. Their eyes met, and Cupid saw nothing in them, even as Kespar turned back to look at Selina.

And Cupid knew she shouldn't feel about it, he had all the right to train alone without explaining himself, but she was hurt that he wouldn't want to train together.

Well, she would have to make do with her own company for the time being…

Aron Rail, 14

District Six Male

Aron saw Akira.

Akira saw Aron.

Their eyes met, and everything came into place.

Aron was aware that Akira knew that he was the guy she had robbed in broad daylight, the guy she had made a mockery of, the guy she might have had laughed at. However, Akira did not know that the same guy had avenged himself, the same guy had robbed her in the darkness of the night, made a mockery of her, and was the one laughing in the end. Until now, that was, because they were both headed towards an almost certain demise.

When they had boarded the train the previous day, Akira had laughed sheepishly at him. Even when the fear of the Games loomed over them, the girl had quickly rushed to her room and changed into the most elegant dress Aron had seen in his life, a pale blue gown that fell down in waves, pairing it with a pearl necklace, and despite the situation Aron couldn't help but wonder why anyone would want to dress up like that on a train, where there was nobody to impress.

And then she had twirled in that dress, smiling at him as if giving him a grimace, and Aron cringed at that quite visibly. No person, when being sent to be slaughtered, would behave in such an obnoxious fashion, the demeanour not meant for the sane people. Although, Aron wondered, could Akira really be called sane?

And then, she plopped down dramatically next to him, grinning.

Aron had no words to describe how he felt. From living on the streets to working with the drug lords, the young boy of fourteen had seen it all. He had narrowly escaped deaths and punishments, and had stayed with his twin throughout the toughest of ordeals, and now when his brother was not there with him, he was having to tolerate this girl. Aron could not bring himself to think straight, or think at all, for she was batting her eyelashes at him, and he recoiled from her, moving to the very edge of the sofa.

"Now that's not polite at all!" she exclaimed.

"You stealing my money wasn't polite either," Aron retorted.

And that was what had made Akira shut up.

However, these events had occurred the previous day, when the sadness and the shock were more prevalent, and the acceptance of an almost certain death sentence was low. This morning, it was high, and Aron had just finished watching the Reapings again, making mental notes of the competition, especially the Careers. Aron had no reason to believe that his young age would prove to be a hindrance in the arena; children far younger than him had won before, taken down mighty brutes from One and Two and Four with their wits and grit, and Aron had been in situations far more dangerous than most other tributes would have been. He intended on making the best use of his experiences in District Six in the arena, whatever it might be.

"Aron!"

And from nowhere, for Aron could swear there had been nobody around him a millisecond ago, somebody threw their arms around him, taking him down on the couch with a loud yelp, and it took all of Aron Rail's willpower to not punch Akira Tuktuk on that pretty face of hers. He pushed her back hard, but she was adamant about not releasing him, holding onto him tightly.

"I'm sorry!" she cried out, sobbing, and Aron could feel something wet dropping onto his shoulder, probably her fake tears, "I shouldn't have had robbed you this way! I'm so sorry!"

The younger boy found it demeaning to himself to respond to such a fake apology. After all, he had been put into a grave danger by her selfish act, and he had no inclination to actually forgive her, especially after what she was doing to him, hugging him forcefully like that. He pushed her again, but to no avail, and so he resorted to the second option he saw at hand, the option he should have had exercised a while ago now, and he stomped hard on her soft foot, making her yell in anguish, which led her to release him rather unwillingly. The younger boy utilised the opportunity immediately and pushed her away, making his way over to the other side of the compartment, keeping a safe distance between them.

"Stay away from me!"

"Come on!" Akira whined, pouting ever so slightly, her red lips curling in an almost adorable way, and in spite of himself, Aron blushed just a bit, choosing that moment to look away, coughing some. He was quite pretty, after all, and she looked even better in those Capitol clothes, but Aron would never admit it for that would mean encouraging behaviour like hers. And filth like that should not be encouraged at any cost. For yes, her demeanour was filthy. She stole people's money by embracing them, what self-respecting person did that?

"Dude!" she exclaimed as he stood away from her, still wary, eyes darting for something to throw at her if she came near him, "Look, I robbed you, and that was wrong. I admit it, and I'm sorry! But please understand, I needed that money!"

Aron rolled his eyes at her pathetic explanation, and was about to comment on her 'needs' being just a trip to the salon, a completely worthless expense in his humble opinion, when he recalled that Akira was not aware that he had already avenged himself, that he had not only taken his own money back but also stolen that which was hers, and firmly believed that a person like her deserved it. So, he kept shut, choosing instead to glare at her, in an attempt to intimidate this idiot.

"You know," Akira sighed, fumbling with her fingers now, her dark eyes focused on the blue carpet now as if it were the most interesting thing in the world, and probably it was for her, the witch who lived for the luxuries, "I got robbed the same night I robbed you."

Aron raised his brows at her, smirking just a bit, as if to tell her that she deserved this punishment for her horrible deeds, and this action made Akira lower her head even further. No way was he going to give her any sign that he was behind it, for where was the fun in that? Let her be pathetic for a while longer.

"So…I'm really sorry."

"It's alright," Aron replied, surprising even himself, but an idea was forming in his wicked mind already. Akira was smart when it came to money and luxury, but was otherwise quite gullible, and it made her quite an interesting specimen. This combination, the pairing of the most contradictory traits, might actually help him if he could just utilise it…

"Let bygones be bygones," he said, a soft smile on his face, "Will you like to ally with me?"

And her face beamed with relief as she nodded at him, so happy she was to hear those words that she ran to embrace him again, and Aron had to stop her from violating his personal space. Apart from that horrible habit though, he imagined he could handle this girl pretty well.

At least, that's what he hoped.

Hi! This is the last train rides chapter, and I hope you guys liked it! Do drop in a review about your thoughts on the chapter, and any other feedback you'd like to give. Next chapter, we'll be in the Captol.

Have a great day!