The train rides very smoothly, much more smoothly than the bus or lumber truck. I can walk freely amongst the train cars, and there is no bumping like there was this morning on the bus. I sit rigidly in the plush chair and try not to look too amazed at the caravan leading me to my death.

There is food everywhere – pastries line the wall and sit delicately on the table, placed on plates that look like they cost more than a dozen eggs. A table with an array of alcohol sits against the far wall, in colors ranging from wine-red to neon green. Everything is so soft; chairs and walls are lined with velvet and the carpet is squishy beneath my shoe.

Trapper sits beside me, seemingly also in awe. Flynnigan disappeared soon after boarding, saying something about steam pressing and a horrid smell. I am sure that Blight, District 5's newest Victor and our mentor, is somewhere around here, but just hasn't made our acquaintance yet.

I and Trapper sit in silence for a long time, just staring at everything and taking in our morality. I wonder if it'll hurt.

"Do you believe in God?" Trapper asks suddenly. I blink and turn to him.

"What?" I say. Trapper looks down at his shoes, embarrassed and flushed red.

"Well, what with our doom upon us," Trapper says, "I'm just thinking about what comes next. If there's a life after this one." I'm struck speechless for a moment. I hadn't expected Trapper to be so caviler about our deaths. I have no fantasy I would win, but I sure was not going down without a fight.

Before I can answer, the door opens with a swish. Blight stands in the doorway, wearing khaki pants and a white shirt only half tucked in. His dark eyes scan over us, and he says nothing as he comes closer to us. I notice a bit of gray at his temple. I am surprised by it, Blight is not even thirty yet. He takes a seat across from his, and I notice he is not wearing shoes, only bright blue socks with holes.

"I am not going to coddle you," Blight said. "You most likely are going to die." I give an offended look.

"Thanks for the confidence boost," I say. I was not sure I wanted the person responsible for keeping me alive to be so blasé about my survival probability. Never mind the fact I was already resigned to it myself

Blight raised a single eyebrow.

"What I am going to do is be honest with you," he says. "As long as you are honest with me. Does that sound fair?"

I suppose. Me and Trapper both nod unsurely.

"Do you want to be mentored together or separately?" Blight asks. Some of the more victorious Districts have two mentors, allowing each tribute to have one to themselves. We were not so lucky. Fern was senile more than he was not, and Dorian was unofficially banned from the Capitol for some incident involving President Snow's wife, a chicken, chocolate, and a blanket. I heard if you get him drunk enough, he will tell you the whole story, but I've also heard it's never the same story twice.

"Separately," Trapper says quickly. I shoot Trapper a critical glance.

"Fair enough," Blight says. I feel a stab of betrayal, even though I know it's warranted. I and Trapper are competitors, the other must die if we want to come home, but apart of me had hoped me and Trapper would be on the same side. At least at first.

I uncross my legs and stand up. I glare at Trapper.

"I'll let you discuss alone then," I say snappier than I should. Blight seems amused, a ghost of a smile tearing at his face. Trapper has the decency to look a little ashamed. I ignore them both and turn on my heel, stomping out of the train car.

Flynnigan has shown us where our quarters would be before he had slinked off to his own, and I make a beeline straight for my room. I step inside and I'm assaulted by the smell of fruits and flowers – there is a bowl of fruits on the bedside table and a wall of ivy and flowers snaking around the bedpost. I wonder what purpose the flowers could possibly serve other than an extravagance.

I lie down on my side at the very edge of the bed, not bothering to pull the blanket over me. I hug my knees to my chest and try to make myself feel smaller. My hair is tucked between my head and the mattress and it acts as a makeshift pillow. That reminds me that Jonathon's hair still needs to be cut. I wonder who will do it now.

Not for the first time today, tears leak from my eyes. How am I to do this? Do this alone? I know I must die someday, but I had never thought it might be this young, in this way. It had been an ever-present fear in the back of my head, in every child of Panem's, but it had also always been a distant thing. That didn't seem real, always something that happened to other people and not you.

Through all the pain and starvation and death in my life, I always had Jonathon at my side. Someone who knew me in ways no one else could. A best friend with no boundaries. His absence felt like a limb had been chopped off, an extension of myself that no longer existed. I have no idea how I will do this without him by my side.

I pull the skirt of my dress over the top of my knees. I grimace. I wish I had worn my slacks this morning. They made me feel more myself, but now in this dress, I feel like an imposter as I make my way towards the Capitol. Across all Panem, I am the girl in the dress that screamed and cried. I am not the girl who can lift nearly a hundred pounds of wood and wield an ax better than any kid in my grade.

I am not the real Johanna Mason. I am the scared, sniveling Johanna Mason. I am the one who is afraid.

For what seems like forever but must have been only an hour or two, the door to my room opens, and there stands Blight. He still seems amused with me as he steps in and rolls his eyes.

"I am not good with drying tears," Blight says, "so go ahead and sit up. Remember, I don't coddle."

I do as he says, and one tear that was already primed to fall escapes, but I wipe away the rest. I imagine my face is even puffier and red than when I boarded the train. Blight stands at the edge of my room for a long time, raking his eyes over me carefully, frowning at me. I shift awkwardly, unsure if he wants me to say or do something.

"Tell me, Johanna, have you ever had a boyfriend?" Blight asks. I blink and pull back from him, hugging my arms.

"What does that have to do with anything?" I say, and Blight does not answer me, instead just taking a seat beside me on the bed. I scoot away from him uncomfortably.

"I'll take that as a no," Blight says. I feel the urge to slap him building up in me.

"Listen here, if you're trying to hit up an underage girl before she dies, just know I have more dignity than that. And a good enough right hook," I say. Blight laughs, and I am struck by how hearty it is.

"Oh, no, no," Blight says. "I ask because if you did, say, have a sweetheart back home we could play that as a strategy."

Almost every tribute has a strategy to get sponsors and sympathy. Last year's Victor, Annie Cresta, played up her love of making seashell jewelry and the artists and fashionistas of the Capitol ate it up like catnip. She was already from District 4 though, so she probably had a surplus of sponsors anyway.

Not that it had mattered anyway. By the time of her Victory Tour, it was an open secret Annie Cresta would be known for the near insanity her Games had driven her to rather than her creativity in jewelry design.

I swallow thickly.

"No, I don't," I say. "And no, I don't have friends. And my parents are dead, just to cover all the bases." Blight nods, light dancing in his dark eyes. I consider saying that I have a twin brother. I decide against it. My brother – and grandfather for that matter – deserved more dignity than being thrust in the spotlight before I die.

"Straight to the point. I think we're going to get along fine." Blight brushed off his pants, even though there was nothing on them. It seems he is still neglecting shoes.

"Look, we don't need a strategy right now," Blight says. "But we're on borrowed time."

I hesitate for a moment. "What's Trapper's?"

Blight shakes his head. "Not at liberty to say. He very specifically does not want anyone else to know."

I frown. Something reeks of suspicion. I drop the subject, however.

"We've never had a girl win before," I say softly. District 7 has had five victors in the history of the Games, and not a single one of them a girl. You would think eventually the odds would turn in our favor, that eventually we could keep a daughter of District 7, but then again, I don't believe in luck so what do I know. "Do you think I have a shot?"

Blight, true to his claim, doesn't coddle me. "No. District 7 is always woefully underprepared. It's a miracle if either of you wins."

I decide I don't like Blight. Sensing my dislike, he stands up.

"Come on," he says. "Eat some dinner. You'll feel better. We're going to need to watch the recaps of the reaping." Is it really dinner time already? I look outside my window and see that the sky is bright orange and the sun starting to sink lower in the sky.

I think of refusing, but then my stomach growls I muse to myself that I might as well enjoy the food of the Capitol before I die.

Blight and I arrive at the dining car, and Trapper and Flynnigan are already seated. Flynnigan has changed out of his magenta suit and now wears a pair of black slacks and a button-down shirt with a flower pattern. He still has not removed his hat. I wonder if he's going to wear it the whole time we're here.

Flynnigan is delicately sipping a glass of what appears to be wine, watching Trapper as he wolves down his food at an unmatched speed. Not that I could blame him. No one in District 7 has enough to eat, and I've heard that the Capitol food is delicious.

I sit and begin to load my plate, and by the time I'm done food is starting to fall off the sides. There's roast beef, and chicken and green beans and mashed potatoes, and fruits in every color of the rainbow, and I eat it all almost as fast as Trapper. There is no talking at dinner, as I and Trapper are too focused on the food and Flynnigan is looking us over with disgust. So distracted by food, I don't even send Trapper a glare for being weird and suspicious.

Blight eats slowly. He's one of the few in District 7 who don't have to worry about being fed. Being a Victor comes with more money than anyone could spend in a lifetime. He just puts a slice of chocolate cake on his plate and eats it one small bite at a time.

It's nearly a half-hour before we're done and I know if I eat more, I will be sick, I push my plate away. Trapper finishes soon after me, and Flynnigan looks between us. He seems tempted to say something about manners or how much we ate but he doesn't. The judgment is still there, unspoken, so I stick my tongue at him. He frowns and looks away.

We make our way to the viewing car, and we settle in to watch the reaping recap. Everywhere in Panem people will be watching, seeing as it was mandatory viewing. The reaping goes as I expect it to, and it happens so quickly many of their names I forget after their spoken. A few sticks out, however.

Districts 1 and 2 have volunteers, as usual, all of them fully grown and having an intimidating aura about them. District 3 is mostly there to break up the Career reaping, and I forget about them quickly. District 4 provides two more pumped-out tributes, but the girl sticks in my mind, with her piercing eyes and cruel twirl to her lips. The rest pass in a blur, District 6's boy is clearly already morphling dependent at thirteen and I hope the poor boy goes out quickly. District 12 reaps two twelve-year-olds, and District 11 is silent as always when the names are called.

My reaping, however, is impossible to turn away from. The shrill scream I give, the robotic and lifeless way I walk, the tears unashamedly pouring down my face. Trapper, who is three years younger, looks far braver than me even though I know he is terrified too. Other tributes have similar shows of fear, but mine by far is the most memorable. Of all them, I look the most pathetic and easiest to take out.

Blight hurries off the moment it finishes, telling us to be prepared for tomorrow. Tomorrow will be the Parade of Tributes, where we will officially be introduced to the world. We will be made over and styled by Capitol designers. Made to look more desirable to the people who will be cheering for us to die. Blight tells us just to go along with it, that it will not be in his best interest to make enemies of the people on our team.

I return to my cabin and find a pair of pajamas in the dresser. I consider showering but I decide against it. I am far too ready for this day to be over to extend it. I can always do it tomorrow. I curl myself into a ball under the blankets and I shut my eyes.

Sleep, however, refuses to find me. I lay there for hours, waiting and waiting for me to sleep, but I can't. All I can think of is the kids in the reaping and wondering which one of them would be the one to kill me. My mind keeps coming back to the girl from 4. There is something about her that unnerves. I do not look forward to meeting her.

My mind considers if the other tributes are thinking of me. Do any of them think I will be the one to kill them? I think probably not, after that performance I gave they most likely discarded me without a thought. A screaming girl in a dress from District 6 of all places? Not a chance that I was a threat.

I stare at where my dress sits in a jumbled heap of green. It had been our neighbor Eloise's, but she gave it to me before she died. Eloise had been sick on and off for years and never had enough money to pay for treatment. At the time, I took it because you don't turn down free things in District 7, but now I wish I had. That dress certainly hadn't helped me appear like a threat, it made me seem weaker, like a crying, frivolous girl no one need care about.

I wasn't a threat.

I wasn't a threat.

I nearly bolted up in bed as soon as the idea blossomed in my head. I wasn't a threat, or at least no one thought I was. I was the girl they could let slip away to go after better targets, after all, they could just kill me later. It's not like I could hurt them, right? And it's much easier to kill once all the other bigger game is gone. And if there's an ax….

I smile in the darkness, and I am finally able to go to sleep.

I hope you're all doing well! If you have any questions, comments, or concerns, let me know!
Have a blessed day! Remember, Jesus loves you!
And I'm starting a new thing across all my stories, a Bible verse will be included in each author's note. I hope you enjoy this as much as I do, as I have been considering starting this for a while, and I feel like it's something the Lord wants me to do.
Bible Verse of the Chapter: "But thou, O Lord, art a shield for me, my glory, and the lifter of my head." - Psalm 3:3
I hope you're all having a blessed day!
-PrincessChess