Ages pass. Years fly by in her mind's eye as she huddles in a heap of blankets. Her arms beg for the prick of a needle, and her lips beg for the soft, caring touch of Dirk's chapped lips. She could never imagine that missing him could be this bad. She isn't sure if it's the withdrawal, the already crystallizing addiction, that's making her feel this way, or if it's true love. Ibiza chuckles to herself. True love doesn't exist. It's just her luck that she's fallen head over heels for a morphling addict that will probably overdose in a few weeks anyway. With the thought of truly losing Dirk stuck in her mind, Ibiza crawls deeper under her mound of quilts and wishes the memories away, but it's already much too late.
She watches with remorse as the skittish boy from 6 scurries out into the open square of the medieval village. He lowers himself into the well, and disappears from sight. A minute later, the other three contenders, the two Careers from 4 and the scrawny 13 year old female from 3, all arrive. The female from 4 guts the girl from 3, and then they search for Dirk relentlessly.
Ibiza holds her breath. Her hands fumble with the turquoise smock that hangs limply across her muscled body. Only age 14, and she's already been chosen to be the female volunteer from District 4 for the 61st Annual Hunger Games. It's the 57th now. She remains still and waits with bated breath. A male from 6, who got a 5, faced with a duo of trained Careers from her District? There's no way 4 will not have a new Victor this year.
Finally the male peers over the edge of the well. Suddenly Dirk pops up. He's cut the bucket from the rope that is lowered into the well to retrieve water normally. He deftly wraps a noose around the Career's neck, and then lets go. The boy scrabbles with the rope, but it's tight. The female watches in horror as her District partner slowly turns blue, choking to death.
The cannon shot is loud, and Dirk glowers at the female. The girl next to Ibiza, 15 year old Anemonia, holds her breath. That girl, Coralia, is Anemonia's older sister. Coralia raises her long sword and rushes at Dirk.
Dirk scrambles out of the way at the last moment, and Coralia can't turn away in time. She collides with the side of the well and falls onto her backside. She screams as Dirk uses a shard of rock to bash her head in. Then Dirk is left weeping pitifully next to a headless 13 year old girl, a girl with a now concave skill, a hung boy, and a bloody rock that falls from his hands with a clatter.
Anemonia wails in terror. Anemonia quits the Academy the following day. She is swiftly replaced by another eager 15 year old girl. Ibiza just shivers as she walks home from the square that night. Fear leaks into her veins, chilling her body. Even sunbathing the next day away cannot warm the cold pit in her stomach.
Ibiza Tran is terrified for her life. And yet, she will volunteer four years later because that is what she must do. She will volunteer because she is a Career, and Careers sacrifice themselves so weaklings cannot be forced to die unfairly. Ibiza pretends that her job is noble, that her job is necessary, that her job is morally right, while she hacks apart seven lives and watches many more fade before her eyes. Then Ibiza Tran is left alone in her arena, and it takes every bit of her self control not to hurl the bloodied rock in her hand at the oncoming hovercraft.
When Ibiza rouses herself out of the reverie, she hasn't eaten in a day and a half. Her stomach growls for food, but she's become accustomed to starvation. Finally, three hours later, a deflated looking Dorsal enters the house. He coaxes food and water down her throat and comforts her.
"How long have I been in here?" Ibiza rasps after she's done eating her chicken noodle soup.
"Five days," Dorsal says in reply. "Why? Did it feel longer?"
You have no idea.
She first meets him on his Victory Tour. He's weak and shaky and his words are slurred and hurried. Their public appearance instructor, Ms. Warell, tells them to do exactly the opposite of the scrawny 16 year old. Ibiza admits that he is a terrible public speaker, and his eyes are alight with a crazed glint. But that can be ignored, of course. From her experiences with 4's 6 current Victors during her training, Ibiza knows that even the kindest, most put together Victors have their insane moments, their broken moments. So she doesn't think that the fear he sees in this boy's every motion is weakness. No, she almost admires it. He's faced fear and survived to tell about it. It...inspires her.
She's 15 now, barely so, but still. 15 years old. The same age as the new volunteer for the 60th, Kareen, who has the face of a toad and the arm muscles of 2's strongest quarriers. She feels jealous of the girl's strength, but not her looks. Ibiza is admittedly rather beautiful, or so she's been told by countless suitors. She's never been in a romantic relationship before, however. She doesn't want to start anything before she heads off to the arena. If she doesn't make it back, she doesn't want to leave a trail of broken hearts behind. Her family's grief will be enough. Maybe her reasoning for no romance is also the reason she has absolutely no friends. Or maybe it's just her. Ibiza isn't the most friendly person.
The 7 prospective recruits for the Games, the probable volunteers for the 58th thru 64th Games, line up with the male recruits at District 4's banquet. The males go first, shaking Dirk's hand. Most shake his hand hard, rough, glaring at him whilst their mouths fold into magnificent smiles. Dirk almost cowers before these men. He has no experience with Careers, after all, besides the ones her outwitted in his Games. He doesn't realize that being a Career isn't just about being able to cleave someone's skull open; it's about speaking well and looking good to attract sponsors. It's about being honorable and about being polite and about being respectful. Being a Career is so much more than just killing, really. No one really understands that too well.
Soon Ibiza is shaking Dirk's hands. His hands are cold, clammy, repulsive. She shakes his hand tightly and smiles genuinely.
"You're the only one who's actually smiled right at me so far tonight," Dirk whispers in her ear before stepping away. She grins shyly before stepping away for the 62nd volunteer can shake Dirk's hand. She bites her lip as she watches the boy walk away. He is not attractive. His skin is pale, almost translucent, and his shaggy black hair is scraggly. His face structure is almost repulsive, and his dark blue eyes glitter creepily from his sockets. He is not strong. She cannot even see a hint of a bicep or any other muscles for that matter on his body. He's just skinny as a rail, and tall, too. He is smart, however, cunning, sly. And this boy is real. He is not like everyone she knows, backstabbing each other so they can go into an arena to backstab some more and probably get killed for the sport of it. No, this boy is real. These are no simple Games to him. He played with desperation, not effortless confidence or snide rudeness, like so many other Careers. This boy was sentenced to death several weeks ago. Through pure desperation, he managed to survive. Ibiza is impressed by this boy.
She gives him one last parting look.
They will not see each other again until Ibiza's own Victory Tour.
"We've last through so much. We've lasted through his overdoses, we've last through hate and suspicion and tabloid exploitation, through Snow's threats...we're made to last, Mags. Made to last," Ibiza murmurs as she sits on the beach. She has a bikini on, but she also has towels wrapped around her entire body. Aging Mags sits on the beach next to her, her gray white hair billowing around her bony face.
"I know that you love him," Mags mutters. "But sometimes loving someone means letting them go."
"I can't let him go. It's been two months since I last saw him, and there hasn't been a minute where he hasn't crossed my mind. Nothing...nothing works."
"Drugs do," Mags whispers. "Of course, I don't know that from personal experience. Drugs work for you, don't they, Tran?" Ibiza recoils. What is Mags doing, talking to her like this?! "Drugs seem harmless. They seem fun, now, don't they? Honey, this man will kill you with his addictions one day, if not soon. Do you want to die after surviving through so much, after fighting for so long?"
"Yes," Ibiza hisses. "I want to die."
Mags just sighs and pats Ibiza on the back.
"Tran, once you're mind's right, come to my house and we'll talk. Oh, and by the way, the Games Comissioner just called. You and Dorsal will be the Mentors for this 64th Hunger Games, darling. Have fun." Mags stands and leaves Ibiza sitting on the beach.
Ibiza doesn't move until Mags returns around midnight and drags the girl back into her house.
A/N: Here's the second chapter, based on the song 1965! I hope you enjoyed the development of Ibiza's character! :)
Until Next Time,
Tracee