Hey all!
So, again, apologies from lack of posting. I beat myself up for not posting or finishing up chapters every day, I promise! I just moved 256 miles from my old town to San Antonio, and have very limited internet connection.
But I have a treat!~ (hint hint: starts with two and ends with chapters?) c:
I can't sleep.
Who can?
The Hunger Games are in a few hours.
We're all going to die in a short span of time.
And only one will win.
The odds weren't in my favor, I realized that. I didn't want to believe it at the reaping. I had some hope when I first met Cashmere. A little faith when I made two alliances, one completely on my own. Some confidence at the tribute parade. But with a three, an enemy from my greatest ally, and a boy who I want to desperately save - the bright side eventually dimmed.
With 24 of us, I realized my chances were less than 5% in winning. In staying alive. In going home.
And even if I was going home, what would I go home to? In one night, I've made enemies of my family, and endangered my closest family member.
Why did I have to open my mouth?
June's attendance of the interviews not only made my chances go down - they've endangered any chance at life after the games I had. My father was gone. My mother was coping, unsure of what to do with herself, but gone as well. Juniper was trying to do as many shows as she could to survive, even if its been a few the disappearances of my parents, Juniper really had to assume the position, something she was completely new at. And her being here tonight was planned.
Of course it was.
My grandfather graciously extended the invitation to watch her little sister live.
I winced in my bed, covering my eyes with my forearms. Why does he do these things to tributes? I knew of Finnick Odair, I'd heard of Johanna Mason - but me? His own granddaughter?
My words were strong, something I had hoped for but nothing I could ever control. With my open disregard for interview protocol and telling the truth like it was meant to be told - truthfully - I basically bought myself a slide in the nightly sky show in the arena. I was stupid for saying what I did. Stupid and immature.
If only I had known that before.
I rolled over in my bed, covering myself with a blanket up to my nose.
What's done is done, I know that. But my fears are not rested.
Being in an arena where I have no control over anything - that was nerve-racking. I wasn't talking about the actual games.
I meant outside the arena. What would become of my father? My mother? My sister? If I won this - and I doubted it - what would await me?
Would it even matter?
I shivered as I remembered Cashmere telling me about her tribute friend getting killed before her eyes. It was him or her.
Would it come down to that with me?
I was a career, I understood the things I might have to do. However, in executing them I wasn't sure.
I was aware of my team: Korto and Anko, the beastly children with wild eyes and tough limbs from District Eleven, Garrett and Cybele, the born and bred classic Careers from District Two, Marcel and Desidora, the freshly reaped twins from District Four, and my greatest enemy Demetrius, my own tribute partner. Excluding the twins, I know all of them will kill if necessary. All will survive to a certain extent.
Where did that leave me?
Running, climbing, and amateur knife work. That's what I had going for me.
I shut my eyes, imagining multiple deaths. By axe. By weather. By starvation.
So many situation flashed through my eyes, I wasn't aware that imagining every situation possible in which I could die could get me to the break of dawn, where I had dozed in and out of sleep, both dreaming and thinking of deaths. By the end of the night, my thoughts had varied to my funerals, to victory tours where parents and family members ambushed me -
But one dream made me wake up in fright, gasping for air.
It was where I killed Alexander Romulous and won the 76th Annual Hunger Games.
"Lillianne."
A muffled door at my voice made me turn my head. It paused.
"It's time."
Cinna handed me the next shirt I had to don. I was almost done dressing- I had on straight and slim dark brown pants, black socks, and a close to the skin long-sleeve shirt in dark green made of spandex-like material. I take the next garment - a cotton t-shirt in a dull gray - and pull it on, over my long sleeve shirt. Cinna brings over a chair and sets it over by his portable vanity, the one he brought to fix me up. I oblige, sitting before it and seeing my tired expression in the mirror. I sigh and he grabs a brush.
"You nervous?" He asks quietly. I give a breathy laugh.
"Nah." I say sarcastically. He chuckles and gathers my wavy hair with a brush and his free hand atop my head, coiling it to create my trademark bun. My bangs are pushed to the side and he offers a bobby pin for the arena, but I shake my head. I know I'd lose it.
"Wondering what it's going to be?" Cinna asks, taking out the pink ribbon he used for training. I nod.
"Of course. But it won't matter." I grumble. He sighs as he ties the pink ribbon around my bun tightly, fastening a bow onto the right side of the bun. He jerks it around to test it, seeing it won't undo. I smile at the gesture, wringing my hands.
"Miss Snow, you're ready." He says when I turn back to look at him. I look down to see my feet shoeless. He smiles.
"Those are on your bed. I have to go, but I'll be meeting you in the launch room." He gathers his things quickly, watching the time. He seems preoccupied with something in his mind. I stare at him as I make my way to the bed, where slim dark brown boots wait for me. I slip them on quickly, as they only reach my ankle, and tuck in my pants just as Cinna is about to leave. With a sigh, he gives me one last look to see I'm fine. He grabs me by my arms, surveying me, and he gives me a grin.
"You'll be fine." He reassures me. I nod, biting my lip. Cinna lets go of me, reaching for the door, when I vaguely hear his mumble.
"-too much for a girl of her age and background to handle."
Before I can say 'huh?', the door closes behind him, leaving me alone in my room.
Moments pass before I dismiss his statement, not wanting to over-think it. I remember I should eat before I leave, but I'm not hungry. I should talk to Cashmere-
I walk quickly to the door to take the opportunity to save myself in any way I can.
"Where's Florence?" I ask, chewing on an omelet. Cashmere takes a sip from the orange juice.
"Still getting ready. You look nice, by the way." She says. I smile at her, taking another piece of omelet in my mouth.
"Thanks." I gulp apple juice down my throat before I speak again. "Cashmere….what do I do?"
My mentor sighs, dabbing her lips with a napkin. "Well, today's the day." She begins, getting ready. I drink some more juice and sit back.
"Lillianne, you need to remember to keep your head straight in the arena." She begins. "At all times. Before the bloodbath, during, and after.
"Now, the first thing is the countdown. You have sixty seconds to prepare. You need to do two things. One: look at your surroundings. Where are you? Is it a desert? A rain forest? An abandoned city? From there, you start to plan your attack and strategy. However, don't wast your time doing that in the sixty seconds. Get a main idea, then move on to number two. Two: Who's next to you. Can you outrun him or her? Can you take on him or her? From these two instructions, you'll formulate your strategy in surviving the bloodbath."
I nod, taking in her instruction. "…So do I run at the Cornucopia?"
"Well," Cashmere elongates, "That's up to you. Ultimately, it's your decision."
I nod again, then stand when Cornelia's heels call our attention. In a ridiculous purple frock, she looks at her clipboard and then at us.
"Lillianne, it's time for you to go to your launch room. Demetrius will follow after., but you won't see him until you reach the arena. Good luck."
I go alone. Before I went down to meet the guards, Cashmere stops me to wish me well and that she'll see me at the Victor's Interview. I laugh, hugging her tight.
With a shiver, I clench my arms, remembering the hug. I don't notice but the elevator goes up instead of down, taking me to the roof. I sigh, cursing at the fact that I might be late, crossing my arms and rolling my eyes. I freeze when I see the person who's made me late.
He rushes in, calling over his back "Thanks, Katniss!" crashing into me and pushing me to the wall.
"I'm so sor-" He freezes when he sees me as well.
Alex stares at me with his eyes wide. "I'm sorry!"
I'm staring equally wide-eyed. The door closes behind him with a 'ding!' and I finally answer. "It….it's okay."
We then move apart, me on the left, him on the right, arms crossed. The commute is slow, as it just begins.
"I'm sorry." He says after a few moments of utter silence. I look down.
"No, I already told you it's okay-"
"Not that." He interrupts. "About last night. The interview."
I freeze again. "What?" I respond, turning to face him. He's not looking at me. I look away quickly.
"For what I said in the interviews. I shouldn't have put you on the spot."
My stomach starts to churn. Instantly, his words ring through my ears. "She crept up on me, Caesar. Her eyes, her smile…the way she bites her lip, the way she averts everyone's gaze when she enters the room- Caesar, everything about her is just…wow."
"Oh…" I reply breathlessly. "That." I turn to him slowly, peering at him under my bangs. He scratches his head sheepishly, looking down.
"Yeah, it wasn't right-"
"Don't worry," I interrupt, "Besides, Demetrius was doing the same thing. Just strategy, right?" I give him a smile, but my heart aches when I say the last part. He frowns.
"Yeah…just strategy."
We grow quiet. We're on the sixth floor, almost at the lobby.
"Hey."
Alex looks over at me and I give him a warm smile, continuing. "Good luck today. You're going to do great."
He stares at me with a look of disbelief. Or shock. I don't know exactly, but his eyes are wide and he's not really looking at my eyes.
It takes me a while to realize he's looking farther down.
At my lips.
"Yeah…" He says in a daze, "You too."
We stay watching each other, passing the fourth floor. My stomach does a cartwheel when he looks back at my eyes again, then shakes his head and looks away. I knew that look! I knew it!
He wanted to kiss me!
A thousand thoughts run through my head. This guy, a guy I barely knew, wanted to kiss me! He'd confessed his interest last night, to the entire country. I punched the only close friend I had here. I hated that guy now. I could die in the next two hours. I've never had a real kiss like this, only dares and spin the bottle. But even then, they were pecks. Why am I thinking of this now?
Without thinking, I close the space between us and grab his black cotton shirt, pulling him towards me. I'm about to lean in when-
"Sorry!" I say, letting go of him and looking away.
I don't hear anything from him. I rub my arm, seeing the fact that we were about to land in the lobby.
But I couldn't not do it.
I quickly leaned over to him, got on my tip toes, and pulled him down towards me. With a swift movement, I gave him a peck on the lips, pulling away just as quickly.
The elevator doors open with a 'ding!' and the guards are ready to escort us to our transportation.
That's the last time I saw Alex until Countdown.
The launch room was a memory of the prep room, only empty and cold. A single bench sat by a wall with hooks, holding my faded silver jacket in its grasp. On the opposite side was a tube with an open door, which I had guessed would take me to the arena. I fumbled with my fingers as I watched the tube from my bench, a slight hum emitting from the contraption.
"Ten minutes to launch."
Suddenly, the heavy door through which I was led opened and brought forth my stylist Cinna. I stood quickly, brushing off my lap nervously. We stare at each other for a while, not really knowing what to say or do. I give him a weak smile.
"So I guess it's time to die, huh?" I respond to the silence weakly. Cinna gives a breathy laugh.
"You're not going to die." He says with a smile. "You'll do great." He reaches over for the silver jacket, much like the normal jacket from every year, and comes to me. I'm about to take it in my hands and put it on myself when I realize he wants to place it on me himself. I give him a nervous smile and turn around, allowing him to put on my jacket for me. I feel his fingers trembling, something I didn't expect.
"Five minutes to launch."
"Cinna…" I say, not wanting to ask but my mouth beating my mind, "I- what is- what were you talking about when you left my room? About background and handling things?"
He tenses. I sense it. Once my jacket is on correctly, I turn to him and see a dazed expression in his eyes.
"Never mind," I say quickly. I'm about to say something else to change subjects when he grabs my face in his hands gently.
"Lillianne," He responds, "These games can change a person. They change lives, values, futures - and you will fall victim to the change. Your life will change in a way that even I can't tell you. But please-"
"Two minutes to launch."
We look up at the ceiling, as if the voice's origin could be seen from above. I look away from Cinna when he starts to speak again.
"Please, Lillianne." He urges, his hands moving to my shoulders and shaking me. My eyes meet his. "Remember who you are. Whatever happens, remember who you are."
"I'm Lillianne Snow." I say quietly, and I quickly acknowledge that it's a stupid response to his heartfelt speech. Cinna doesn't seem to mind my comment, only smiling.
"No. You're Lillianne, just Lillianne." He lets go of me. "No last name, place of origin, or anything can make you who you are - you are Lillianne."
"Thrity seconds."
"C-Cinna-no, I can't- I have to-"
I'm hyperventilating. This is when my body starts to shut down and panic. My eyes grow wide, and I start to shake. Cinna dives for my arms to try and steady me.
"You'll do great, Lillianne. I promise." He's trying to hold me down as I try not to cry or scream. "You will prevail. Calm. Down."
I nod, mouth slightly agape, and wobble to the tube. I sniff up some mucus, grabbing the side of the tube. My stylist helps me up onto the launch tube, and as soon as I'm steadily inside, the thing shuts closed. I yelp and turn to Cinna.
"Wait-" I hiccup. Cinna puts his hand on the clear tube and puts the other to his lips, shushing me gently.
"Remember who you are, Lillianne. Good luck."
And then I'm going up- higher and higher. My stomach does summersaults in its place, and I can't see Cinna anymore. It's dark, its cold, and silent.
"No…" I murmur, pounding my fists on the tube. "No!"
The tube vanishes then. It's concrete. The air stops being septic and starts smelling differently. I hear wind, I hear birds- I feel heat. Humidity, is what I feel. I look up, and its as if they've unscrewed a cap.
Sunlight streams in.
Tune in shortly for the next chapter, then review!