Vinna Hegarty, 18, District 1 Female
I wake up with a jolt of excitement already in my belly. Every Career anticipates this day, the day you can truly prove your skills to not only the other tributes, but the rest of Panem. After today, the Careers will respect me, the outliers will fear me, and the sponsors will practically toss their wallets at me. A giggle escapes my lips at the thought of all the silver parachutes coming in my direction and some starving tribute in the distance seeing that it is not meant for them at all.
Swinging my long legs over the side of the expansive bed, I think of my plan. I'm going to utilize my spear, obviously. I'm going to have to wow them because that wench Coilee is not much farther after me in the session order, and she's also going to use a spear, most likely. I almost regret not having the chance to outdo her.
Once I'm dressed in the standard dark purple training outfit I head to the dining room where Armahni's nibbling at a fruit salad. Merrilee waves to me… merrily.
"Morning!" she chirps. I ignore her cheerful greeting and sit down, an Avox pouring me a glass of milk before I swat it away.
"What, you want me to throw up at the sessions?!" I bark at the mute servant. She sets the jug down before grabbing another one filled with orange juice.
Merrilee's bright green eyes sparkle at me as she waits for a good time to speak up.
"So, what's your plan for today?" she inquires. I try to pretend not to hear her but she keeps her smiling gaze glued onto me.
"I'm going to dazzle them with my spear skills," I explain, cutting through a pancake with my knife. "Hopefully that Two girl doesn't think of one-upping me. She's really going to pay if she does."
Merrilee sighs in distress. "Vinna, what did I tell you! Don't worry about her. Just focus on doing the best you can."
"Okay, I'll do that," I shoot back at her.
The ride down to the basement level is quiet, with Armahni looking nervous and sweaty. I roll my eyes. What Career is nervous for an event like this? I wonder if he's going to hide under his bed the morning of the Games.
We're taken to a sort of waiting area, where only around half the tributes are already here. Armahni and I take a seat on a bench closest to the doors to the Training Centre.
It takes around half an hour for all the tributes to arrive and soon, it's ten o' clock.
"Armahni Holm, District 1 male, please report to the Training Centre for your private session."
Armahni lets out a deep breath and rises.
"Wish me luck," he almost whispers to me, and soon he's vanished behind the door.
I glance around at the other tributes, who all look like a big bundle of nerves, minus the Careers. Sophia is in the arms of her partner/boyfriend, biting her fingernails in an attempt at soothing herself. The girl from Six is just staring blankly, looking like she's checked out from life. Part of me pitys these children, because compared to me, how in Panem would they be able to stand out to the Gamemakers?
After around fifteen minutes, I hear the announcement I've been waiting for.
"Vinna Hegarty, District 1 Female, please report to the Training Centre for your private session."
I wink to Kyle, who's seated next to me, and strut over to the big doors, my hips swaying. I know I'm practically radiating confidence, or cockiness, as some might say, but I can't help it. I was meant for this.
I push the double doors open, and I'm instantly surprised. There isn't a weapon in sight, and compared to yesterday and the day before, it just looks like I'm standing in a sad, empty gymnasium. I look in confusion up at the Head Gamemaker and her colleagues.
"Hello, Miss Hegarty," the Head Gamemaker says professionally. Her posture is so still that I'm wondering if she's even breathing.
"Hi," I respond meekly, trying to mask the uncertainty in my voice.
"Your session will be a bit different than you expect."
These words strike a bigger feeling of uneasiness in me, and before I can register it fully a sharp pain erupts in my arm. I yelp and whip my head around instinctively to notice a Peacekeeper injecting me with something I don't recognize. Almost immediately the world seems to be in slow motion.
A faint giggle is all I'm able to hear until I shake my head rapidly, clearing some of the grogginess.
"Miss Hegarty, you have fifteen minutes to complete your dream sequence. Since you are a Career, I would not recommend failing. Good luck."
A voice I'm assuming is still the Head Gamemaker's is telling me that I can fail the private sessions, and I'm on the verge of tears. I can't possibly imagine failing. Success is the only option.
"Don't be too scared, mean lady!" a child's voice tells me. I'm confused until I recognize the voice as that annoying little girl who snuck into my flat. What the hell is she doing here?
The world seems to be shifting, and soon I'm in a dark, wooded area. The creepy forest seems to stretch for miles, and I'm right in the middle of it.
"Vinna," a new voice hisses in the distance. I spot a shadow coming towards me until Bijou comes into view. Soon she's joined by Janelle, who is also flashing a maniacal grin at me.
I spit at both of them, hoping to hide the fear in my veins.
"So, here she is," Bijou sneers. "The girl who can only cheat to get what she wants instead of earning it." Bijou's tone is venomous, not at all like her usual soft, overly girly pitch.
"Let's see how tough she is now," Janelle says in a low and gravelly voice. I try to steady my breathing as the two girls suddenly sprout claws out of their hands and close in on me. As they're inches away I keep still, and they stop in their tracks. As much as these hallucinations seem real, I know these girls wouldn't even consider challenging me after what I did to them. They're fake.
As expected they start to whimper at my aloofness and morph into cats before dashing away, mewling. Only a few seconds pass before I notice a thundering noise. I hardly have time to let out a scream before a tsunami-like swarm of cats descends over me. I don't think I've ever heard so many meows in my life.
The felines were easy to defeat. They're just animals. Even as the Head Gamemaker congratulated me on passing the session with "flying colors" I still felt numb, like I hadn't really accomplished anything. The claw-induced warmness my body was in still lingered.
As I was shoved back into the lift when the session concluded, I felt increasingly clammy. There isn't a single scratch on me, but I know I have cat scratch fever.
Coilee Undergaze, 18, District 2 Female
Azure and I are grasping each other's hands, inhaling and exhaling in sync, desperately trying to calm each other. I had put a brave face on around Vinna, but once she left for her session, I confided in Azure that I was scared of the session for several reasons.
"I'm sure they'd let you have a re-do," Azure tells me when I ask her what would happen if I mess up. Part of me is expecting the Gamemakers to only accept perfection and nothing less. Being perfect isn't in my nature. Like everyone else, I have flaws.
I'm trying to find some motivation. I could be motivated by my contempt for Vinna, but those kinds of negative feelings don't get you very far in life. Eventually you become too consumed with it, and you become very unlikable. Although I possess very few positive feelings, I'm going to have to make more of an effort to acknowledge them in these last few days if I'm to keep my sanity.
Megara always said to focus on happy things when you falter. It was her own childlike way of saying that gratitude is important. I may not have much to be grateful for at the moment because I'll probably be dead in a month, but at least my family is alright. If me being in the Games secures their peace, I suppose I have to take solace in that.
When I arrive at my private session, they stick something sharp in me. At first I think it's Vinna trying to sabotage me but I notice the white Peacekeeper uniform, and the syringe in their gloved hands.
The Head Gamemaker tells me the session is going to be different than I expected. I'm not sure what she means by that.
The room becomes distorted and before I know it, I'm in a bright prairie. Tall, pale green grass surrounds me, going on for miles into the azure blue skyline. The breeze is pleasant and I find myself enjoying the atmosphere.
However, I turn to notice something far more distressing.
Mom, Dad, and Megara are tied to chairs, their mouths taped shut. I start to cry when I see my little sister's tears.
"Megara!" I cry out. My sister says nothing in return, only continuing to cry, which breaks my heart even more.
A gun suddenly appears in my hand.
"You have a choice, silly billy," a high-pitched voice tells me. I turn to notice a strange stuffed bear smiling at me. "They die, or you die."
I try to make sense of the situation but only end up distressing myself more.
"Why does it always end up this way?!" I cry, and the girl starts to become annoyed.
"Choose, or you all die!"
It wasn't even a choice. I screamed as I squeezed the trigger into my temple and was still screaming when I suddenly appeared back in the Training Centre. Later, Cascadia is unsympathetic of my tears.
"You did that bad, huh?" she sneers at me. I have no response.
Albert Hade, 16, District 3 Male
Sophia's practically bitten off the entire length of her fingernails by the time I'm called. I mostly kept a calm composure, trying to imagine every scenario in my head.
I waltz into the room and I slip and fall on some inexplicably placed banana peel. They all laugh at me and I score a zero.
Or, perhaps I do so good they give me a ten or even a twelve, an almost spastically impossible score, and I'm made to be a target to the other tributes. That would almost be just as bad, I think, than scoring a zero. Either way, I stand out, which is the last thing I want. Sophia and I already stick out because of our status as a couple, and I'm not interested in drawing any more attention to us.
They call out my name, and Sophia gives my hand a squeeze.
"Don't go," she says in a yearning voice, before bursting into laughter. "Just don't mess up, okay?"
"I won't if you won't," I say back to her. Sophia just flashes me an innocent smile.
"Don't worry about me. Like always I've got a plan." Her wink is the last thing I see before I disappear behind the doors.
I see a team of Gamemakers staring at me from their high balcony, silently judging me. Unfazed, I stand before them.
"Hello, Mr. Hade," the Head Gamemaker says in a flat voice. I only return a curt nod.
The tall and slightly intimidating woman tells me that the session will be a little bit different. I'm confused until I'm suddenly pricked and the world begins to go fuzzy. The ceiling is no longer the gray and sterile tiles from before. The ceiling is blue with fluffy clouds. No, that's not the ceiling, that's the sky. When did I get outside?
The floor isn't the floor, either. It's the ground. Tightly packed dirt crunches underneath my feet as I observe my surroundings.
An unpleasant sensation has started on my chest. At first it just feels like an itch, before it becomes itchy, almost unbearably so. I resist the urge to scratch at it, but soon I feel the itch on the back of my neck, too. It feels like I'm being bitten by something, but what?
Unfortunately, my question is soon answered.
Not all people are afraid of spiders. Some see the creepy arachnids as being nothing more than little nuisances, either to be killed or exiled from the house, depending on the person. I've always been indifferent about them. How could something so small possibly be dangerous or scary?
One spider isn't scary. A bunch of spiders, on the other hand, is something to be afraid of. I start to back away from the swarm before I feel the ground sinking in. My head smacks hard against the ground as the sinkhole gets bigger and bigger until I'm practically in a ditch.
The spiders decide to join me in the hole, too. I can feel my heart rate skyrocketing, and my hearing only sounds like rushing water. I have to calm down or I'll never get out of here.
I start by slowing my breathing, and as I'm doing it, the bites become less inflamed until I can't feel some of them at all. Even the spiders seem to be vanishing. I focus on the clouds as I feel myself coming back to reality, one breath at a time. Breathing this deeply on my back is slightly uncomfortable but it's better than hyperventilating.
When my surroundings become normal again, I'm still on my back on the hard floor.
Aslan Dreadstorm, 18, District 4 Male
"Break a leg!" Azure tells me. I raise my eyebrow at her and she shakes her head.
"Not literally, silly," she muses. "Haven't you ever heard of figurative language?"
When I arrive inside I'm struck by the lack of weapons, dummies, or anything at all. Confused, I look up at the Gamemakers.
"Hello, Mr. Dreadstorm."
I don't think anything or anyone could have explained to me what was going to come next. I've experimented with some candy-like things in my time at the docks, with my co-workers telling me they made the world more colorful, or made time move faster or slower. In any case, they're supposed to make you feel good. Whatever they injected into me just transports me into a dark and strange forest that looks like a nightmare I've probably had before.
A bunch of people appear, as well. They're all dressed in grey and don't look very assuming, or unique. I soon find myself in a crowd of them.
"Excuse me," one of them suddenly says. "I'm looking for Aslan. Has anyone here seen him?"
I raise my hand and say, "I'm Aslan."
The people all look around as if I didn't just say I was there, some of them shrugging.
"Where is he?"
"I guess he's not here."
Confusion starts to turn to anger. "What do you mean, I'm right here!"
Again, they ignore me. The voice that was calling out for me in the first place starts to grow closer as they continue to call my name.
I notice the voice belonging to a pink teddy bear that has stepped into my view.
"I wish I could find him. There's something I need to tell him," the teddy bear laments. I let out a horse-like huff.
"Can't you see me standing right here, you stupid doll?!" I growl at him. He continues to stare at me as if I was air, or see-through.
"I really wish I could find him." The bear turns away and I can't help but get angry. Either I'm invisible, or the bear doesn't think I'm noteworthy enough to be acknowledged. It felt like a loss of individuality to be ignored like all the other figures around me. I know I'm technically a number in these Games, but I don't care to be reminded.
"Hey, bear," I call out. It doesn't notice me, and still doesn't notice as I trail it. It does, however, yelp in pain as I grab the doll and tear its head off with ease. The voices start screaming in unison as if its stuffing was blood and gore.
Suddenly the world snaps back to normal and the decapitated doll still lays on the ground in a heap.
"Okay, I get it, you're Aslan," it says weakly. A girl cries out and hurries down to the ground level, almost weeping as she picks up the remains of the bear.
"You monster!" she cries out. "You killed Weaver!"
"He isn't dead, love," the Head Gamemaker tells the teary girl, who returns to the balcony with her bear's broken body. "He can be fixed, trust me. Well done, Mr. Dreadstorm."
"Just send me to a stylist," the bear says in a hollow voice. "I'll be stitched up in no time."
Aston Shinjin, 14, District 6 Female
I try not to think of Mother too much whenever I'm this nervous. Crying isn't exactly better than the relentless anxiety that's been creeping up on me for the past week. The good memories with her are one of the only comforts I have, but I can't think of her without imagining her horrific ending. It's embedded in her, like footprints on wet concrete. The concrete is still solid enough to walk on, but the mark remains, no matter how much you try to ignore it. Mother doesn't deserve to be remembered as a victim, but that's exactly what Baxter did to her. I wouldn't call it tarnishing her memory since she did not ask for any of it to happen.
"Aston Shinjin, District 6 Female, please report to the Training Centre for your private session," a female voice rings over the speaker. I sigh, and Indy, who's sitting by me, squeezes my hand. I know he meant it as a supportive gesture but I feel my blood running cold.
Once I'm inside, I can feel the thickness in the air, not from humidity, but from tension. I'm no believer in superstition but even I know stagnating air is common foreshadowing that something bad is about to happen.
I screech when a sharp pain burns in my shoulder. Upon realizing I've been struck with a needle, I can feel the panic attack coming on. Father would always inject these into me when I was restless, or sometimes, one of the men would say he liked sleeping beauties. Is Father here? There's no way he's here, he can't be in the Capitol. Even they wouldn't let him in.
I start to feel drowsy, and looking back up I notice I'm no longer where I once was. I'm back where I started.
Mother is making breakfast. Even though she was never a morning person she looks fresh as a daisy. I smile at her and she smiles back. A strange sense of déjà vu overcomes me.
Then there's a knock at the door, and Mother answers it. Men come in, just like how I remember. They restrain Mother, just like how I remember. However, Baxter grabs me, only me, and leaves Mother behind, crying and sobbing. I don't remember it happening like this. This time, I got to experience exactly what I know Mother went through in her last days. I only escape when I find a pair of scissors to strike Baxter in the jugular with.
I'll never take water for granted again. I feel like I need the entire ocean after how dry my mouth is from screaming.
When the session is over, Alysanne finds me in the crumpled heap in the lift, and I find a new comfort in my mentor's arms.
Aemilia Marsay, 31, Head Gamemaker
I almost feel bad for Aston as she's dragged out of the room by two Peacekeepers. She isn't weeping, thankfully. Aemma turns to me, a wicked smile on her face.
"What a baby," she says mockingly. I almost want to correct her lack of sympathy, as it scares me a little. But I just give her a slight smirk, and she soon begins to jump up and down upon noticing Dream Weaver being brought in, repaired, and on a silver tray.
"See, I told you he'd be fine," I tell my daughter as she rushes to hug her lifelong friend. Garrett is the next tribute up, and I cringe upon realizing he's only thirteen. I'll give him a serum with a less severe sequence. He's already going to die, anyway, so no need to rub it in.
Magnolia Salix, 18, District 7 Female
It's hot. I know fire is hot, obviously, but it feels like my skin is melting off my body. No, maybe I'm burning to a crisp. What happens first, burning to a crisp, or melting? I should be the first one to know that but instead I'm drawing a blank. The heat is making my mind feel like it doesn't work anymore.
The skeletons are coming at me fast.
I take each one of them down with my axe, but as the bones crumble uselessly underneath my weapon I notice something. The bones are black, charred, practically ash. Were these people I couldn't save?
Are the ones I failed coming back to haunt me?
Not knowing what else to do, I continue to hack at them, but now my eyes are closed. I've seen plenty of charred skeletons in my life but none that were animated and attacking me. I feel like I've had nightmares like this but even dreams have an iridescent sheen of falseness. This all seems too real.
It isn't real, my subconscious tells me. Skeletons don't come to life.
Abruptly, the skeletons stop in their tracks and sink to the ground in a pile of ash. I'm confused until I realize that willing the skeletons out of existence truly caused them to disappear. I'm not sure what this dream is trying to tell me, but I'm starting to have a more solid idea of things only being what you believe them to be. If evil walking skeletons aren't real to you, then they aren't real.
I can still smell the ash even as I'm dragged out of the Training Centre and back into my room. The world still doesn't seem real so I focus on the sun until my vision is blue, but I have to turn away to avoid blindness. Maybe being blind isn't so bad. I wouldn't have had to see not only what I've just experienced, but every charred body I've had to pull from smoldering wreckage.
Altaïr Muhammed, 12, District 9 Male
I try not to cry in front of others. Crying breeds sympathy, and in worse cases, ridicule, both things I try to avoid at all costs.
My eyes are burning, though, and my throat is too. That's the feeling you get when you resist tears. As difficult as it is, them spilling over your lashes is almost inevitable when you get to this point. It's a matter of gravity, how long it takes for the tears to stream on your cheeks like rivers.
When I came in, things seemed normal. I almost didn't notice the lack of weapons, because I was more focused on the strange pink bear that was sitting on the edge of the balcony, swinging its short legs playfully
I think they injected me with something. The Training Centre seems to be miles, years, lightyears away, however I used to measure time.
I'm laying down, not on a bed or even on a floor. It feels cushioned and comfortable, if a little claustrophobic. The oak that surrounds me seems to be closing in, trapping me.
My parents are staring at me from above, crying. Why are they crying? I'm not dead. I'm just laying down. Are they crying because of my grades? Did I get in trouble? All I feel is confusion, even more so when my mom gently brushes my forehead with her delicate fingers before kissing it. I suddenly realize what is happening.
I failed.
I didn't come back. Well, I did, but as a lifeless corpse in a coffin. That must explain why I'm not able to move, why my eyes are anchored open. Even my perception of the world is starting to skew, with my memories seemingly vanishing and every action that occurs before my eyes seeming foreign and blank, like I've never seen it before.
There aren't many things I'm truly afraid of, thanks to the comfortable life my parents worked hard to provide me. I may call myself a thrill-seeker but the truth is, I'm perfectly content spending my days in the library, lost in a world of video games and books. My parents expect a lot from me, but at the same time, they don't. I'm only twelve.
However, the least I could have done is come home for them, so they don't lose their son.
My hand is still sore after they wake me up. If I had my hidden blade in that coffin once I was in the ground, breaking out would have been much easier.
Andrew Rodriguez, 16, District 11 Male
They're too much. The needles are too much.
They aren't even piercing that far into my skin. At the most, they're surface cuts. But like all shallow cuts they sting like hell, and there's no relief from them whatsoever. There's a prick in every part of my body, and they flare up and down to ensure that no part of me feels comfortable.
Ironic that this needle-themed nightmare was induced by whatever liquid was inside the needle they shoved in my arm earlier.
"Look at you!" a child's voice mocks, and soon she's standing right in front of me.
"You look stupid. You look like a pincushion."
I feel like a pincushion. There's so many needles in me that at this point I probably look like a hedgehog or something. I reach around my body, trying to feel the needles in me, but instead I just feel my skin.
Bewildered, I keep searching for them, but again I find nothing. Why does it feel like I'm being pierced if there's nothing here?
Then it hit me. There were never any needles at all.
Slowly the pain starts to dissolve, and the girl sticks her tongue out at me before prancing away. The forest starts to become distorted and soon I'm back in the Training Centre, with the Head Gamemaker peering at me from the balcony, her face showing flashes of approval before scowling.
"Well done, Mr. Rodriguez," she says in a defeated voice.
Lilac Rafflesia, 16, District 12 Female
Being last in the private sessions is sort of a double-edged sword. On one hand, it's nice to know that your turn isn't for a long time, giving you time to relax and soak in your thoughts while formulating a good plan. On the other hand, the anticipation begins to consume you like some kind of flesh-eating disease.
Damon went before me, and when he left, a strange feeling washed over me. I'm hardly ever separated from my twin. We work together, eat together, and these past few days we've trained practically in sync, with the addition of Ryker.
Ryker. I almost feel bad for him. Sure, he's our friend and ally, but if I had to choose between him and my brother, the choice is obvious. I just hope it doesn't come to that.
"Lilac Rafflesia, District 12 Female, please report to the Training Centre for your private session." A mechanical voice wakes me up from my daydream.
"Guess that's me!" I say jokingly to the empty room. I saunter into the Training Centre to find that same pink haired lady and her child, looking as menacing as ever. Why is a six-year-old sending a chill down my spine? I've looked at plenty of dead bodies, too, so that's saying something.
Suddenly I'm pricked in the arm with what I'm hoping isn't a syringe. My heart sinks into my stomach when I see the needle. I hate needles. Who doesn't?
Before I know it, I'm not even in the Training Centre anymore. I'm in a weird forest, like something out of a horror novel. It kind of reminds me of the way the graveyard looks at night. Dark. Spooky. Full of ghosts and spirits.
A deep groaning sound is becoming increasingly apparent. I squeeze my eyes shut and pray to whoever might be listening that I'm not hearing what I think I'm hearing. Please, don't let it be a-
"Ahhhhhhhh!"
A sharp scream escapes my lips as I feel a hot, molten tongue on my cheek. It was exactly what I thought it was.
Zombies.
This particular zombie seems to like me. She's got thin red hair and one of her eyes is hanging by a thread out of her socket. I punch her in the jaw, so hard that it falls off and she collapses in a heap.
Of course, she brought company. A wave of zombies is coming at me from all directions, gurgling lifelessly. One of them steps forward as they stop in their tracks.
"Why did you abandon us, Lilac…" His voice sounds exactly how I'd expect a zombie's voice to sound. Low-pitched, monotone. I'm surprised he hasn't already mentioned being hungry for brains.
Fighting zombies is exhausting. I almost felt like I was melted to the floor when the world went back to normal, and I was removed like old gum scraped off the sidewalk.
Aemma Marsay, 7, Happy Capitolite Girl
The last girl looked like she wanted to go to sleep after she was done. Mama was right. Today really was a fun day. Weaver and I are excited but Mama and the rest of the Gamemakers look extra tired.
Mama says she is going to stay behind to do 'evaluations'.
"Can I stay and watch, Mama?" I ask. She shakes her head.
"It won't be any fun for you. We'll be done elaborating in just a couple hours, okay? Go have lunch with Weaver." I do as she says and take Weaver's hand as he and I are taken back to our flat by some Peacekeepers, one of them being the woman who caught me when I jumped off the balcony. Ever since that happened, she's been scared of me, like I'm going to do something crazy again.
Weaver and I have cucumber sandwiches and sweet tea, my favorite lunch.
"Didn't I tell you it was gonna be a swell time?" Weaver asks me in a happy voice. I nod my head up and down.
"That was so much fun!" Sure, it got a little boring by District 7, but I always like to have lots of energy, and was just as excited for Armahni's session as I was for Lilac's.
"The Gamemakers could learn a thing from you. They looked like they were half-asleep," Weaver tells me, sipping some of his tea.
"I practically am a Gamemaker," I remind Weaver. He laughs.
"Yes, yes, of course you are."
I was going to give every POV character a POV this chapter because I thought it would be appropriate but it started to become redundant and excessively long. If your POV tribute didn't appear this chapter, they will next chapter when the scores are revealed.