Is there someone you are drawn to? Is there an imbalance in your relationship? Has an attraction fizzled out?


Sibyl Hawkes, Victor, Thirty-first Hunger Games


They say when you win the Hunger Games you're regarded as a celebrity, the boon to your reputation is immense overall and every opportunity should open up to you, that's what they say; that's what Balas Beacon had promised them when he conducted lectures back at his namesake academy back in One.

Sibyl Hawkes is still waiting for that said opportunity that the great Balas Beacon had promised the prospective students back in the day. If she had travelled back in time to talk to her younger self she would slap that girl silly telling her to run away as far as she can. Run away as fast as she could and never look back.

Now the bed creaks underneath her, a repulsive Capitolite man on top of her, his groans and moans disgusting in her ear as she scrunches her face whenever he's not staring at her with those black beady eyes.

"You really do have a brilliant body." He pants in between the thrusts, she feels herself shivering. "They were right about you; the best lay I ever had in my life."

He kisses her neck, his tongue making her feel so uncomfortable like a toad playing with his food. She wants to cry, but she's learned not to cry anymore, most of her tears fall on deaf ears and her cries for help ignored.

Her feelings doesn't matter because she's fresh meat, a Victor of only two years, young and full of hope. She had wanted a different life for herself, to live in peace but that's now what fate had planned out for her, or rather the President had much bigger plans for her.

The egocentric and sociopathic head of Panem had decided that every Victor owes him a favour. Breaking most of the Victors that were already damaged by the Games or be punished for their insubordination.

Her family is also another stone in the shoe to her peaceful life, not wanting to let her have anything she wanted growing up. Her grandfather, the patriarch of the Hawkes Family rules an iron fist and just as egocentric and sociopathic as their President.

He had told her not to disappoint the family name, not to bring shame and scandal to the name. Pascal Hawkes had told her to keep her head down and obey the Capitol, or else she becomes an outcast.

Her grandfather had a point, they're still a young house, one of the newer houses amongst the Boulevard of Great Houses, her victory projecting them much forward. Her mother had had already besmirched their name, having a sex scandal and giving birth to her.

Her mother, Tiffany Hawkes, locked in her room, through her own choice. She doesn't leave her room and eats very little, a punishment for betraying their House. She doesn't know her father, probably dead now if Pascal had anything to do about it.

She snaps from her thoughts and whims when the man grunts his last thrust finishing as he rolls off of her. The fat slob beside her pants as he recovers from his high, that is the price of victory that she had grown to learn over the last two years as she rushes towards the bathroom.

The shower is hot against her skin, she scrubs everything, every space her rough and calloused hands can reach. She refuses to have anything to do with that vile man as she cleanses herself from the activity. He can hear her through the shower as he rattles on about how great she was in bed, and other inappropriate things that make her skin crawl.

He rattles on about how important he is to the Capitol and that she is lucky to be picked amongst the other Victors, she scoffs at that, as she washes her face. She exits the shower and begin to pack her stuff in the bathroom.

She wants to get out of here and fast, she wants to go back to the safety of her own home and forget about today once more. She leaves the bathroom and immediately begins to put on the dress she wore, the white garment misleading the masses of her purity and innocence deceiving men and thus making her most desirable.

She takes the small bag of toiletries into the bedroom putting it into her bag, every client she had been given were always the same, spouting the same nonsense where she knows that they only got her because they had the money.

She takes the booklet from her bag and presents it to the man on the bed, still naked a smirk on his face. He sees the white book, leatherbound, and tuts taking it harshly from her. He unscrews the silver ring from his finger and stamps it nice and slow on one of the pages.

"You're a good lay, I'll give you that, too bad you don't have a personality." He says to her looking her up and down, making her feel more uncomfortable, he looks at him smugly with the smirk on his face. "What happened to that girl from two years ago that killed her allies with such ferocity?"

She's gone.

That's what she wants to say but she holds her tongue, she's not to say anything that can incriminate her should something go awry, and she has a few choice words to say to him and everyone else for that matter. She takes the booklet from his hand and goes to put it back in her bag but the man's slimy hand grips onto her porcelain skin.

"Here is a little wisdom for you," he says looking at her dead in the eyes as he grips onto her tighter. "You'll grow old and become unimportant whereas I will always be relevant and powerful."

She wrenches her hands out from his grip and looks away, she goes to her bag and begins to silently pack it, the rage building up inside of her. She puts it down, she puts it away from her mind as she takes her bag with her ready to leave when the man is close to her again, his breath stink as he grabs her arms.

"What about another go, huh?"

She flinches away from his grasp, but he pushes forward grabbing onto her tighter feeling those slimy lips on her neck once more and she makes a noise of disapproval, that only seemed to spur him on as he laps up her neck like a dog to a bone.

She wrenches her arms from him and shoves him away from her body, the look of disgust on her face as the man's beady eyes turn to lust once again. She pushes him again, and he stumbles back losing his footing suddenly before falling and in that moment Sibyl Hawkes is in trouble.

The man bashes his head on the corner of his desk, the force enough to make it bleed as he collapses with a thud on the floor, blood leaking from the crown of his skull. Sibyl makes an unworldly gasp as she scrambles to put on her shoes and diving into the bag she had dropped earlier fishing out the red card and running towards one of the phones in the apartment.

"H-Hello, Mr. Valentine?"

She says as the man picks up the phone, she looks towards the direction of the man. His eyes no longer showing lust, and no longer showing signs of life either, looking like dull glass. She does not want to know what impact this would have for her, this has never happened, she didn't mean to do it. Her mind going so fast thinking about the President, her grandfather, her freedom, her life. She begins to cry as she hears the man ask her what's wrong over the line.

"I need your help."


A/N - Hello! A new chapter, something I had already planned before everything happened. I thought I'd publish it so that I can somewhat distract myself!

So far I have had a couple of submissions for this fic, and I honestly don't know when subs will close now, but I'm going to push it back to the end of March now! So that's plenty of time from here onwards.

I look forward to hearing from you all, and distracting me slightly.

The form and informations are on my profile, and don't hesitate to ask me about anything at all!

So what do you think of the second victor that's going to be somewhat important to this story? This Valentine fellow is racking up victors like there's no tomorrow huh?

Thank you to London Fog Lattes and Ben for the reviews!

Cheers!
Alec~