Channel DeGracie
Placed 2nd
April 5th, A.D.D 16 - August 1st, A.D.D 34
"Whoever said money can't solve your problems
Must not have had enough money to solve 'em
They say, "Which one?" I say, "Nah, I want all of 'em"
Happiness is the same price as red bottoms"
~7 rings
Five Times Channel DeGracie Was Too Superior (And One Time She Wasn't)
The First.
I always knew I'd make an impact.
After all, when it's required, you've got an unbeatable combination: so much to lose, a heavy heart, and the drive to win.
No one was truly surprised when I was picked as the female volunteer for the 34th Hunger Games. Why would they be? I was the top candidate at the Academy, I had the passion, I had everything.
I didn't tell anyone how much I needed this.
It was funny- I was mediocre to begin with, staying in the middle of my classes. DeGracies are never mediocre, and I slowly but surely inched up as I got older, finally reaching a position destined to secure me fame.
The cheers when I volunteered made me feel like the Queen of the World. Whistles, whoops, screams of encouragement had filled the Reaping Square. I had marched on to the stage in swift, confident strides, flipped my hair and said into the mic Hello, District 1. Remember the name. You're going to see it on Victory Posters soon.
My District Partner, Otis Royce, had laughed and whispered, We'll see, when we shook hands, just like the day we'd been told we would be the volunteers in front of everyone in the training centre that day. How they'd applauded, almost like harmonies matching, but not for him, no. For Channel DeGracie, the next winner that would grace the presence of District 1's table of victors.
Oh yes. He was going to see very soon.
Because nobody beats Channel DeGracie, not even some washed-up scum pretending to be the kid of a noble.
The Second.
My arrows were bullseye. My knives? Dead centre. The dummy I showed my hand-to-hand combat moves on almost begged me for mercy.
The Gamemakers too.
The other Careers are nowhere near as superior as I: my district partner is much too arrogant and possesses little skill, and the boy from Four and the Twos are much too soft to be a Career. The girl from Four I've decided to ally with, because she is strong but loyal. Yet like every Career, not so much that she'd deny herself the win for an ally.
My knives are centre for my family, my spears relentless for the truth. It's not acceptance I seek, because I already have it in dozens.
I'm the one who accepts things after all, not the one to be accepted. Well, my parents don't agree with me on this. At least one day- no, now- I can live up to what they want.
Finally it's my turn, instead of waiting on the sidelines useless.
I put everything in my arsenal to use- spears, rapiers, even sensuality.
This isn't the time to hold anything back.
And after four painstaking hours of agonizing over any possible mistakes I could've made, I score an eleven.
There's only three of those in history (well, now four). Two both get 10s, as do my district partner and my ally from Four, but her district partner scores the lowest out of us Careers with a nine.
Our escorts and stylists congratulate us on a job well done, while me and Royce relax on the couch, and when they leave, I make sure to show just how things really are.
You're up against someone who doesn't mess around, Royce. Too bad you only got a ten. Nobody will remember that.
He had smirked, but I continued, unbothered.
There's countless scores of ten in history, countless cocky boys from District One who think they're much more than they are. You'll fall, like they all do. Your name will go down in the history books, just as another agonizing detail for the Capitol children to memorize for school. You'll end up being forgotten, your grave abandoned. I'll be the one laughing in the end.
I pause to take a breath and Royce takes advantage of this and breaks in.
And yet nobody will remember you, the first Career to die, while they'll remember the Victor- me.
We'll see about that.
Oh yes we will.
The Third.
We rise into a glorious hotel. A huge chandelier sparkles overhead, made of expensive glass. The sniffling, weak boy from 7 is to my right, the fifteen-year-old girl from 11 is to my other side. My ally, District 4's female tribute, is to the far corner. Which is just as well, because we can cover more ground that way.
The countdown starts.
60 seconds.
Suddenly, a flood of memories comes rushing at me. I see the fights between mom and dad. Wine bottles strewn across the hallway. A luxurious house, decorated perfectly from outside, holding a perfectly broken family. The trauma I went through when I was younger, the scars that had been left on me.
People couldn't see them. I didn't let it show. I had changed from a weak, twelve year old who would cry at loud sounds, to a strong, eighteen-year-old whose voice didn't quiver once. I had learnt to fend for myself in a world so carnivorous, it could rip you apart.
I had learnt to thrive.
10 seconds-
I come back to reality. I am here. I am here, on a pedestal, rising into an arena where my sole purpose is to kill, and to survive. Like I have been doing my entire life. I breathe in, and my eyes hold determination.
3. 2. 1. GO.
Let's do this.
I jump in.
It's all a mess, as my inter-ally gets the first kill of the Games by stabbing the District Six male repeatedly. My district partner gets the next one with the girl from Ten, and I grit my teeth.
Channel DeGracie is never third, let alone second.
I seize up three knives from the Cornucopia, stashing two away in the pockets of my training uniform. I search for an unfortunate victim, someone who didn't have the sense to run away in my grace.
So I turn on the girl from 11 next to me, knocking her down and pinning her so the long knife I have seized from the Cornucopia is touching the tip of her nose. She's small and bony, and doesn't put up a fight as she screams while I twist my knife into her body.
One kill's not enough.
Blood already stains the hotel floors, and there's cheap reception music playing over the screams. Four bodies already litter the ground, and the whirring of helicopters, coming to pick the body, sound over the screams and slashes.
I hurl myself at the weakling boy from District Three, and he lets out a yell of surprise. I cover his mouth with my hand, but he attempts to bite it.
My knife goes into his chest like a second instinct, already covered with Eleven's blood.
I take down the girl from Five next while she's conferring with her district partner, him unsuspicious as he frantically grabs a pack. Her life is over in a moment, eyes fading of emotion- and so do mine, and her district partner joins her.
The Careers meet up after the bloodbath, and ten bodies lay limply on the ground. Cannons boom, and the reception music switches to something edgier.
I ignore it.
How many kills did you get? I ask the pack wryly.
Both from Two shake their heads, indicating none. My ally smirks and says, I got two. She seems nonchalante, as if she doesn't care too much.
How can she not, when there's so much at stake?
Her District partner says, One, and I finally turn to Royce with elegance. I've beaten him in this one.
And you?
Three, he says, eyes narrowed.
I guess I won this one, then. My voice is candied and sweet, though there's an edge to it that Royce can most likely see.
How many did you get, then? he scoffs, disbelieving.
For a moment I'm taken back home, to the constant doubt of my abilities.
I brush it off.
Four.
He tries not to let it bother him, but I see it slip through his mask.
The other Careers have turned away, all except my ally, who I know I can trust, so I lean in and whisper to Royce.
I'm going to win. Just give up, it's not even worth the struggle you're putting up. You'll fail in the end.
We'll see, bitch.
Oh yes, we will.
The Fourth.
Royce kept giving me side-eyes after the bloodbath. Everyone could feel the tension between us. This was not off to a good start...but it wasn't like I cared either. I wanted to win. I wasn't here to make friends or get emotionally attached to anyone.
My motto was simple: Kill, win, get glory, leave.
But everyone fucking came in the way. As we sat near our base camp that afternoon, everyone talked to each other, smiling like idiots. They spoke of how our alliance would go till the very end, about how glory would be waiting for them at home. I could see the alliance between the tributes from District 2, and Royce.
I already knew how it was going to go down. Royce would be betrayed at one point in time or the other, and the other two would die a quick, uneventful death at the hands of either Aqua's District Partner or me.
My inter-ally, Aqua, was the only other sane one. She ate some berries from her backpack as she stared into the distance.
Looking away from the other Careers, Royce sneered at me and said, Would it cost you to smile a little?
Yes, I say. It would cost me Victory in these Games. Give me that and I'll show you my brilliant smile in all its glory.
Royce rolls his eyes and says, Did your parents never teach you to have fun? Jeez.
That was it. He had been pissing me off from the beginning of the Reapings, and I tolerated all of it. I was not going to have him annoy me anymore. Like any civilised human being, I knew to keep conversations on a basic level. He, on the other hand, did not.
It was time for him to go. District 1 already knew who was coming home.
I let out a low growl and jumped on Royce. Startled, he jumped out of the way and raised the dagger he had at his waist. I laughed and knocked it out of his hand, locking his throat in a chokehold. I pinned him down and was about to stab him when I saw Aqua from the corner of my eye.
She was on Glory, the girl from 2. This was going well. My competition is going down, I thought.
Bringing my attention back to Royce, I straddled him in between my legs and said, What were you saying about winning the Games, again?
He let out a roar of frustration, and screamed, You bitch! Go to hell!
Honey, where do you think I came from?
Those were the last words he heard before his death. I stabbed him in the chest, right where the heart was. The blood oozed out, decorating my hands. It was what satisfaction looked like.
Glory's mutilated body was behind me as I got up. I saw Fabien running away, a scared expression on his face.
Ugh. Soft Career.
I looked towards Aqua, who was watching me with intrigue. I raised my eyebrows at her and she nodded with an impressed look on her face. Just when she was about to go back to her place below the tree, her District Partner came running at her.
Not hesitating once, she pushed back her elbow into his stomach, and then turned to face him. Her eyes were a peaceful blue, maddeningly calm even in a life or death situation.
She dug her knee into his thigh, and he fell down screaming. He struggled on the ground, trying to get back up, but in vain. The blow was heavy, bound to at least injure him severely. I couldn't see external bleeding, but I was pretty damn sure he was hurt.
I went forward to deal a blow, but Aqua raised her hand and screamed, No! This is my kill, Channel. I. Do. Not. Need. Help.
Jeez. I wasn't helping you. I wanted the kill, you idiot.
But I let her have it. She was a good fighter and it was better to have her on my side in the long term. I watched as she finished Atlantic off, dragging out his death. Once she was done, she looked up at the sky, the helicopters greeting her from above, coming to collect the dead.
Three Careers gone. Fabien fled the scene, and my inter-alliance with Aqua was the only one remaining.
She came towards me and we shook hands, a gesture of congratulations for our kills. I was oddly reminded of the time Royce and I did so at the training academy when we were chosen, and again at the reapings, an indicator of district loyalty.
Look where that went, I think and smirk.
We pack our stuff up and decide to shift base. Good Careers never stay in the same place for too long.
So we move on. Through the lengths of glass hallways and gold decorations and intricate tapestries on the walls.
We walk.
The Fifth.
The Final Six is here, and with that cannon that went off earlier, we're in the final five. Aqua and I are both restless, because Fabien is still alive and so are two outer district kids. It won't be long before we have to turn on each other too.
What's your life back in Four? I casually bring up as we're resting in one of the lavish hotel rooms.
She stretches on the couch she's reclined on, and for the first moment, I can feel tension rising. Why don't you go first?
How am I supposed to tell her about the scared little girl who still hides behind curtains? It's a weakness I can't show. It'll cost me the Games, like I told Royce.
We're one of the richer families, being nobles, I begin. The family hosts balls sometimes, and we've had many famous Capitolites over- too many to count, really. Royce wasn't even one of those nobles, just a lower class kid looking for glory. I'm exaggerating- Royce was rich too, but who am I to care?
Anyways, there's so much of that scum in the Games that it makes me sick, I sigh.
Aqua ignores me, and slowly stretches out of the chair. She walks to the bookshelf, taking her time, and picks one of the books, then walks back over to her chair. She doesn't say a word, instead flipping through the pages without giving me a second glance.
I'd usually dismiss this as normal behavior.
But the telltale sign is that Aqua's hand has made a fist at her side, and she's slightly shaking.
Not out of fear, I guess, but out of anger.
I quickly analyze the situation. We're both on couches, but we left our supplies and our weapons by the door. My father's voice echoes through my mind. Stupid mistake, child. Nobody wants to look out for you- you're expendable, and you've got to fend for yourself or you'll be dead soon.
We have no weapons except the things around us, and from the way Aqua's legs are tense, it feels like she's about to attack me.
My hairpin token is digging into my scalp, and with a flash, I realize that it's sharp enough to hurt a certain someone. Perhaps even kill them. My mother was the one who gave the hairpin to me, mauve lips curling into a smirk as she had leaned in and whispered in my ear, sending shivers down my back as I had absentmindedly clenched my wrist, a fading scar left there.
They say you can't bring weapons into the arena. Better act dumb if you don't want them to take it from you.
The edge is sharp, and it's dug into my skin many times. So many, in fact, I have a little trail of scars up my neck. Just an ever present reminder of all the mistakes I've made, how I deserved to be punished for not being as perfect as I should be.
The edge is sharp, and it hurts like hell sometimes.
So slowly, leisurely even, I begin to let my hair down.
Aqua's eyes flick up to me, and then back to her book. Except she's been on the same page for minutes, so I know she's not really reading. I let my blonde hair fall in a halo down my shoulders, and I slowly slip the pin into the folds of my clothes.
I let out a relaxed sigh, and recline against the seat as if I haven't got a care.
Then Aqua lunges.
I'm ready for her, though, and immediately pull out the pin. She's discarded the book, and her hands make way for my neck, attempting to strangle me, but I shove her down, my nails clawing at her eyes in an all too familiar way, and then we're on the floor, fighting for control.
I punch her in the stomach, and she gasps, winded, but bucks up and almost rolls me off of her. I pin her down just in time, but she bites my hand, and with a cry of pain, I let go, and suddenly she's on top of me, and her hands trace the scars on my neck as she chokes me.
You're going to regret everything you've ever said, bitch, she hisses. I choke, gasping for air, but her fist collides with my face.
I wince, but not too much. I'm used to the pain. My hand snakes to her side, the pin hovering over her wrist, and when I'm about to pass out from lack of oxygen, I stab down on her wrist.
Aqua lets out a scream as the hairpin digs its way into her skin, maybe even so deep it's touching bone.
We'll have matching scars now, I guess.
I punch her in the jaw just like she did to me, and once again, I'm on top. She tries to fight back, but I regain my power and pull the hairpin out, then stab down at her eye.
She doesn't scream this time, instead going slack against me and making these horrible noises that I never would've thought could have come out of a human. The hairpin digs deeper into her eye, cutting down with force I never would've imagined possible, and her eye rolls back so I can only see the white of it. Yet somehow, it feels like she's still staring at me.
Aqua's tough, I'll admit that, and I admire it too, because her cannon hasn't gone off yet. I dig the hairpin deeper.
Who's paying now, bitch?
She chokes, trying to form an answer, and I only laugh. It hurts me too, to do this, and it's gruesome, but it's a smart, resourceful kill.
I take the hairpin out again. Aqua's blood sticks to its sharp edge, and I can tell the life in her is fading. Her skin has gone an unnatural shade of gray, but she's still fighting, and manages to work up some blood and spit and then spits it into my face.
I rub it off, disgusted. My features are tainted by the blood, and my hair keeps getting in my face, intermingling with the blood. I'll have to go to a salon after the arena.
I refocus on Aqua anyways. She's choking herself at this point by denying herself air, and with one last stab of the hairpin, blood pours from an empty eye socket.
She chokes out a few words, You're... not go-going to... win... just wait and… s-see, bi-
She stops abruptly, and a second later lets out a soft, pained gasp.
Her cannon booms a second later.
I stand up, brushing off the blood, and fasten the hairpin back into my mane of hair without bothering to clean it. Sponsors will want to see it, and the more I show it, the more favor I get.
Aqua's body lies unmoving, blood covering what was once a beautiful face. Her eye socket is wide open, and a bit of blood pools in it, so I look away quickly, feeling disgusted.
I stand up and begin to gather my materials.
It's time to hunt and end this thing.
The First. When She Wasn't Superior, Of Course.
The building is crumbling.
I know that towards the end, they want to force us together, but the building is crumbling, and I'm running.
I barely make it to the main floor before the stairs collapse, but a cannon booms, telling me someone wasn't quick enough to escape.
It's survival of the fittest anyways. If you can't keep up, then you deserve to die.
The girl from District Ten lies on the ground unmoving a few meters from me. Her leg is slashed open, and her eyes aren't quite vacant just yet. The smell of the blood is intoxicating, and the stickiness reminding me of red wine.
I kneel next to the girl's side, and she gasps and tries to jerk away, but I smirk and my knife goes into the wound. She screams, and for a minute, it's just me and this girl, as the ruins of the hotel surround us.
The hotel is falling.
The hotel is falling!
I stab her through the chest once more and the cannon goes off, signaling I seized yet another kill.
It's me and either Fabien or the boy from Seven left.
No matter who survived, this should be fun.
I can make it, I can finally prove myself, and maybe, just maybe, I'll have a few less scars because of it. Maybe I can finally be what I'm supposed to be, what my family needs me to be.
The perfect victor.
I'm on my way.
I walk away from the ruins of what used to be the hotel. Glass and gold litter the ground, and I walk cautiously. I don't want to be injured when I'm so far into the games. No. I'm not letting that happen.
I let my senses take control as my legs do their job. The air smells of smoke. It reminds me of...barbecue. The one that we used to do back home when I was younger, when mom and dad still loved each other. When dysfunctional didn't exist as the foremost word in my dictionary. When-
I snap out of it, chiding myself for falling into memories when I need to be here in the present. My skin has dried blood and gore on it. Aqua's picture flashes into my mind. She was a good ally. As good an ally I could have wished for.
But these are the Hunger Games. There is no good. There is no almost. There are no...if's and buts. It's win, or lose. Glory or shame.
Victor or nothing.
I hear the slash of a weapon near me. Something with a heavy blade...probably a sword. It's that soft career.
It's Fabien.
This is it, Channel. You moment. You deserve this win. You have been preparing for this your whole life. This fight, this battle is going to be yours.
He comes towards me and looks me in the eye. I wonder how he isn't trying to hide, but then again, what would have been the point, when your competition is right in front of you?
His lips curl into a smile, a genuine smile, and he comes towards me...for a handshake? He extends his hand and gestures at me to shake it.
No matter who wins today, you put up a good fight, he says.
Something in me stirs. It has been so long since someone actually told me I was doing good. I...I don't know how to react. I zone out, and then back in, my vision blurred.
I feel something in my gut.
It's not emotions.
My eyes go wide as realisation strikes. Fabien's sword lies discarded on the ground, his hands now clutching a knife. The tip of which is in me. I scream and try to wrench his hand away, only hurting myself in the process. Blood drips, and the pain is so close to unbearable. I feel like collapsing on the ground and giving up, but the fighter in me won't allow me to.
I glare at Fabien. This was not how it was supposed to go down. This is not how it is going to go down! I scream and pull the knife out of my stomach, and in the same motion, twist his hand behind his back. I see his veins pulsing, his breath ragged.
He still doesn't let go. It infuriates me, I just want all of this to be over so I can go back home to my crown.
I need to win. They will punish me if I don't, and this has been the only thing I've prepared for. How am I supposed to live without winning?
With one final jerk, Fabien twists his arm out of my grasp and I barely feel his knife make contact with my neck. Just like how my parents did before, just like how Aqua tried to do to me.
It comes around in a full circle.
Breath hitched, I stumble blindly. My vision's all hazy, and I swear the number of Fabiens have multiplied. But it can't be right, because I'm superior. I'll always be. I got seven kills and he got one.
The world isn't fair.
It never has been.
I collapse onto the ground and I give up.
This is how it's happening, then.
Wow.
A/N:
Hello, it's Tia and Trish again, this time with Channel DeGracie from District One, dubbed "The Idol!" We hope you enjoyed her- she certainly was a wild ride. The theme songs for this chapter would be 7 Rings by Ariana Grande, Friend by Gracie Abrams, and Prfct by Sabrina Carpenter.
The next one shot, telling the story of "The Hideaway", will officially put us halfway through. Thank you to everyone who has reviewed, favorited, followed, and shown support for Dear Desperation so far!
See you next time,
Tia and Trish