When Joy opened her eyes and saw nothing but white, her brain jolted her into overdrive. She sat up from where she lay and her legs struggled to free themselves from whatever was laying on top of them. She pitched sideways and fell off of what seemed to be some kind of small ledge. The upper half of her body made contact with the pristine white tile floors and she thrashed about on them.
Nononononono, her subconscious screamed, getmetoutgetmeoutofthismall!
She pushed herself up with wobbly arms and attempted to crawl across the tiles, as far away as she could get from this hellhole. Her breathing came out in ragged gasps and her legs dragged along behind her.
A noise blared from somewhere close by and it made her thoughts scramble. She continued to push forward until she was suddenly surrounded by multiple pairs of feet. Arms descended from the air and began to drag her back to where she came from. She lashed out with her teeth and nails, but the arms resisted and she felt the world edging away into blackness once more…
When Joy surfaced for real, she found herself still surrounded by white. Something was covering her entire body from the neck down. It was warm and heavy. She was lying on her back, with her head resting on something soft. It was quiet.
Until someone coughed.
Joy snapped her head to the right. Sitting in a chair next to her lying form was Chanel Grande, reading a magazine. She perked up at the sound of Joy's rustling. Her eyes had large bags under them. She looked miserable.
"Ah, you're awake, finally."
"Where am I?" Joy asked. It came out as a raspy, scratchy murmur.
"Hospital. They're fixing up that hip wound of yours."
Joy threw back the covers. She was wearing a flimsy white gown. She lifted it up enough for her to see the enormous sticking bandage covering her hip. Her fingers lightly grazed it.
She swallowed and licked her cracked lips. Her stomach growled.
"I'm hungry," she said.
"I don't care." Chanel turned back to her magazine.
"I know you don't," Joy turned to face the wall. She felt the past anger from the arena well up, even though she thought she'd moved past that. "You don't care about anyone."
She could practically feel Chanel's eyes burning a hole through the back of her head. There came a rustling consistent with Chanel slamming the magazine down.
"Don't tell me you're starting up with all that bullshit again." Her voice was sharp, but exasperated. "You know what happened when all the other mentors heard your little meltdown? They all glared at me like I was the anti-christ. They were saying shit to me like, "what did you do to your tribute this time?" and, "you're a rubbish mentor". It was horrendously embarrassing."
"There you go again, only worrying about how you came off," Joy spat. "How do you think it was for me, knowing that I had a rubbish mentor who hates me, and also knowing that my entire district hates me, too? Did you ever consider how I felt once?"
"Oh, stop feeling sorry for yourself," Chanel leaned over to her. "The world eats people like you alive."
Joy scoffed. "I survived the Games, didn't I?"
"Yeah? And so did a deaf chick. So did a girl who was scared of trees, for fuck's sake. You're not strong for surviving the Games."
"Then what am I?"
"A prissy little bitch who's getting on my nerves." Chanel sat back in her seat. "And a very lucky one, at that."
Joy glared at her. Chanel was simply sitting back, watching her, daring her to try something else. Joy hated her, this horrid woman who spoke and acted so blase when she wasn't being rude and dismissive of her.
She mustered up the courage. "Fuck you."
"Oh, you're finally saying it to my face, are you?" Chanel asked with dull surprise.
"I mean it. Fuck you. You make me sick."
"You really shouldn't be talking to me like that."
"I don't care. Just do what you do best, and fuck off."
"Fine. You can be someone else's problem, then." Chanel got up and left the room, letting the door slam behind her.
Joy rapidly blinked her eyes to keep the angry tears from falling, even though there was no one around to see them.
The next morning, when the nurse came by to collect the breakfast dishes, two unexpected guests stepped in after her.
Wonder and Lapis pulled up chairs next to the bedside and greeted Joy with small, knowing smiles.
"Hey, kiddo. Welcome to the other side." Wonder reached out and gently ruffled her hair.
"Chanel told us what happened," Lapis said, "But we want you to talk to us about it."
Joy swallowed. The two of them were looking at her so kindly, and so worriedly. There was none of the contempt that Chanel had for her. She felt the tears pool in her eyes again.
So she told them everything. How she felt in the arena, about Chanel, and about what the Capitol was going to do to her. It all came pouring out in a flood as intense as her tears. Wonder and Lapis listened, frowning and exchanging glances. It made Joy feel even worse, despite getting everything off her chest.
"You're not getting out of this lightly, that's for sure," Wonder remarked.
"But you're going to have to live with this now. What's done is done." Lapis added.
Joy nodded, her face red and splotchy. "I wish I didn't. I'm scared…"
Lapis touched her hand. "You can get through this. We're Victors. We all have our demons to battle."
"You haven't been prostituted, though."
"Well, no. I haven't." Lapis grimaced.
Joy bowed her head. Her stomach twisted again.
Joy was discharged from the hospital four days later. Her hip was still sore, but usable. The wound was in the early stages of scarring over. Whatever the Capitol doctors had given her, it was working like a charm.
Almost immediately after stepping outside of her hospital room, her prep team descended upon her like a pack of vultures. They swept her away and began the process of plucking and combing and bathing. Throughout it all they cooed over how gorgeous she was, and how magnificent she was going to be once they were done with her. Joy nodded and smiled emptily along to all of it, her gut twisting as if there was a knife stuck in it.
They dressed her in a black draped dress edged in gold. Her curly hair was tied up in a ponytail with a sparkly ribbon. Gold glitter was brushed across her eyelids and sprinkled on her perfectly blushed cheeks.
By the time they finished, she looked a million times more grown-up. The prep team gasped and chuckled and applauded. "Now you look just like a Victor should!" they told her. Elegant. Refined. Deadly.
And an absolute mess on the inside. But of course, no one worries about what's on the inside so long as the outside is flawless.
Thirty minutes later, Joy was being welcomed onstage by Caesar as the crowd cheered her name. Photos and stills from the Games were peppered on the screen behind them. Joy turned her back on them and focused more on forcing the corners of her lips to stay up.
Once the applause had died down, Caesar and Joy seated themselves in the white leather seats. The pale gold of Caesar's hair glinted under the lights. "So, you really stuck to your word, didn't you?" Caesar began. "I remember your first interview quite well."
Joy thought back to that night. Yes, she had quite boldly claimed that she would return. So did everyone else, she thought sadly.
"Well, what can you say? I'm a woman of my word." she said.
Caesar nodded. "You certainly are! You powered your way through those Games, didn't you? Even when all hope seemed lost, you kept going. That's the sort of strength we admire, right folks?"
The crowd screamed their agreement.
"These Games were also quite emotional for you, weren't they? Especially with the destruction of your whole alliance. Why don't you tell us how you were feeling?"
His face was so sympathetic that for a second Joy believed that he really was. Then she pushed that thought out of her head. He's not, really. He's just acting for the crowd.
Now it was her turn to act. She buried her fingernails in the fabric of her dress and willed the tears away before they could even form. Well, she was already in a massively deep hole as it was, but she didn't want to dig herself into an even deeper one.
"Granyte and I…" she began tentatively, trailing off as her brain struggled to finish the sentence. After a few painful moments of silence, Caesar thankfully came to her rescue.
"You two seemed very close," he noted sagely.
Joy nodded. "We were. He...he always tried to cheer me up when I was feeling sad. He was probably the one wh-who deserved to win the most."
Caesar nodded politely. "And what about the other boys? It seems like you've never gotten along with them."
Joy shrugged. "I don't know why they hate me so much. I never did anything to either of them. Well, I can understand Platinum being upset, since his friend was supposed to volunteer, but I don't know what I did to piss Herman off so much. I guess I was just… hurt."
"Well, regardless of the reason, I think we can all agree that that was one of the most intense moments in this decade's Hunger Games. The suspense of whether you would survive or not had us all on the edge of our seats."
The crowd cheered.
Joy smiled painfully. "I'm glad that all of you were so entertained by me."
The interview went on for another few minutes. Joy answered all of Caesar's questions with a grin semi-permanently etched onto her face. The crowd screamed and clapped at the end of it. If nothing else, Joy was relieved that they all seemed to love her, despite her actions in the arena.
Another saving grace was the fact that Caesar wisely chose not to mention her temper tantrum in the mattress store, or any other embarrassing action of hers, for that matter. He knew as well as she did that those were tricky and sensitive topics that should be avoided at all costs.
Joy glided off the stage and into the arms of Lapis, who had been waiting in the wings. "You did good out there," Lapis murmured into her hair. "You just have to get through the the feast tonight and the crowning ceremony tomorrow, okay?"
Joy nodded. She kept smiling as soon as she noticed the cameras trained on her, and let herself be swarmed by her prep team and showered in their compliments. She let herself be swept away to change clothes for the feast.
Only when she was out of view did she let her smile drop and her cheeks rest themselves.
Joy was once more whisked away by her prep team. They touched up her hair and makeup, and put another dress on her. This one was even more fanciful than the last. It was a shoulderless number with a short skirt. The material was soft on the inside and smooth on the outside, and was black and deep pink in colour. The pattern on the material gave the illusion of scales. But most ridiculous of all was the absurd amount of large and long feathers that trailed from the back of the skirt. They tickled Joy's legs in an irritating manner. She felt as silly as she looked.
Her prep team, on the other hand, thought she was drop-dead gorgeous. Go figure.
Outside the President's mansion, she met up with her escort and, to her dismay, Chanel; the latter of whom was clothed in a skin-tight green cocktail dress. They linked arms with the newest Victor and began the long march along the red carpet up to the front doors. On the way, they passed a huge crowd of people, all clamouring violently for her attention, and then a cluster of paparazzis. The flashes of their cameras were white and so very very bright.
It reminded her of something.
It sort of looked like the lighting in the mall. All harsh and blinding…
Her knees suddenly locked together, grinding their parade to a halt.
"Joy, darling," her escort asked kindly, "is everything alright?"
Chanel was nowhere near as empathetic, on the other hand. She roughly yanked on Joy's arm, just enough to force her to start walking again. "Don't," she hissed into her ear.
Joy could only keep looking forward, willing herself not to look at the camera flashes.
Finally, they reached the mansion. A pair of elegantly dressed avoxes escorted them to the ballroom. It was a lot darker than she expected - despite the abundance of small neon lights - and very full. The party was already in full swing. The floor was awash with masses and masses of heavy bodies tumbling and misstepping their way around as they danced and swayed against each other. Their shouts and laughter and greedy gulps of food filled the air, making the place seem even more crowded.
Joy was all set to turn 180 degrees and walk in a straight line for a few thousand miles, but that hope was dashed as soon as the room's occupants took notice of her presence.
Almost immediately, they descended upon her, clapping and cheering and crying out for her. All trying to get a piece of her. Joy shrunk up against Chanel - as much as she hated her, she was the safer option.
Her escort proved surprisingly helpful. She held her arms out to usher everyone away from her. "Leave her be, she hasn't even had a chance to enjoy herself yet!" she admonished.
The crowd backed off, but their eyes still lingered.
Joy was led away to the banquet table. Her escort piled her plate high and pushed it into her hands, insisting she eat. Joy obliged, if only out of politeness. Her stomach still felt as small as ever. She probably still wasn't ready for such a large amount of rich food, but in that moment it didn't seem important anymore.
Might as well stuff herself up like a turkey.
And eating at least gave her a brief respite from the crowd.
Of course, she couldn't keep eating forever, even though she was offered a small vial of a pink liquid that would help her purge. She couldn't bear the thought of vomiting yet again, after doing it no less than three times in the arena already.
Joy couldn't delay the inevitable any longer. She was expected to mingle, so mingle she shall.
She stood up, with Chanel at her side, and paraded herself around to the other guests, who were all just so "charmed and delighted" to meet the newest Victor. Her hand was kissed so often it was going numb, and she was dragged out onto the dance floor seven times by men who easiler had ten to fifteen years on her. They were unfailingly polite but Joy wasn't blind enough to miss the way their eyes always glided over every contour of her body like a vase on display. She choked her true feelings down and smiled back at them every time.
Joy was relieved when she was whisked away again, but to meet the other Victors this time. Leto, Hermes, Hilo and Lyme had her giving genuine smiles. They'd been her personal heroes growing up, and even though she wished it was under slightly different circumstances, she was still stoked to have met them at last. She immediately felt some sort of kinship between her and Lyme forming, as the two current youngest Career Victors. Leto had squeezed the life out of her in a massive hug. Hilo had a short conversation with her before leaving to go find more starlight mimosas. And Hermes gave her a very warm welcome to the Victor family as the 55th member.
That phrase really put things into perspective. She was only number 55 out of… well, only god knows how many. A hundred? Two hundred? Maybe even a thousand? How much longer could the Games possibly stick around for?
And if they were still a thing a thousand years from now… would anyone even remember her? Would anyone watch her Games; watch her kill and cry and puke her guts out, and have her stick in their mind? Or would she be lost to history; a footnote in history textbooks, a grain of sand on an entire beach of interesting stories and personalities?
Joy didn't even understand why her train of thought suddenly and randomly took a hard left like that, but it did. She was wandering aimlessly throughout the ballroom, in a glitzy gown and heavy makeup and a cheesy smile on her face, as she chatted and laughed with everyone who made eye contact, yet no one knew that she was already thinking of the day she'll be forgotten.
The whole situation was just too surreal for her to process properly. She was almost glad when Chanel dragged her around to meet more people.
Almost.
The night came to a close as Joy fell into bed fully clothed with the sun peeking over the horizon.
Then Joy was practically being dragged out of bed by her prep team after what felt like only ten minutes.
Oh, right. The crowning ceremony was today. Yay.
The trio applied fresh makeup to her face and gave her a jade-green dress to wear. It was similar to the one she'd worn during her interview. That night seemed years ago now. Joy was so much more different then…
Wait, was she? Was she really?
Well, she was still Joy Spinel Lux, the daughter of jewel cutters, an excited and awestruck student at the Academy. But no, she wasn't a student anymore. She was a Victor. And she wasn't excited anymore. Or awestruck.
Joy had responsibilities and facades to uphold. She had so much on her shoulders now. Her Victory Tour, press conferences, interviews, meet-and-greets, "special favours" and so much more were waiting for her down the road. They were all part of her newfound celebrity status. They would always be a part of her life now. Every word she would say, every move she would make, it would all define her in the ever-watchful eyes of Panem.
But on the inside, she was still the same. No matter what came next, no matter what she would be forced to do, she would always be the same old Joy.
Right?