Author's Notes: Please remember to review. It means a lot to me:)
Johanna: Meet The Doomed
I rouse from my dream in a delirious haze. Today's events fresh in my haunting nightmare. My waking mind is numb, but my body is stiff and worn from earlier hours of semi-forced crying and wailing. Tears and emotions poured out of me with such force that I am not surprised by the realization I passed out cold the second my body fell against the luxurious train bed.
Once I awoke, time seemed to escape me as I sat motionless, thinking. Had it not even been a full day since I was reaped? Had it not even been twelve hours ago, that I had been fretting in the forest with my best friends over possibly been chosen? Less than twelve hours ago I had been safe and surrounded by people who loved me. Now I was alone on the train that was chugging me along full throttle towards my demise.
Just like Scout and Laurel had tried to soothe my fears before the Reaping, they also tried to console me at District Seven's Justice Building. Both Laurel and Scout knew I could fend for myself and was not useless like I was leading on. Luckily they realized that weakling was my angle for survival, just like I could have chosen to act cunning or sexy or arrogant; they knew being weak was just apart of a show. Tears I had not forced spilled out of my eyes when I had to say goodbye to them. Not being my usual self caused a strain on our goodbyes, but love was not spread thin between the three of us. My mom, on the other hand, had not known that I would be pretending to be weak and powerless. She hugged me tightly and tried to calm me with her soft words, which in actuality only made me approach a mental hysteria. My mother had the brains to realized a crybaby could never survive the Games; she had no hope for her darling daughter to return home. If I had yet been determined to return home, this thought embedded no other choice for me. I had to return home for my mother, for I had been all she's had for the past sixteen years of her life, and now she was sure she was going to lose me to the monster known as the Games.
Along with the replay of my last goodbyes, I was reminded of my moment of frozen fear from only hours earlier; the moment almost directly after I was reaped. Melody refused to accept her pity towards me. In attempt to revive her bubbly self, she insisted on calling the male tribute far more quickly than years previous. On screen I had managed a few more captured faux-lunacy moments before I possessed a definite reason for any. My wails extinguished into a hushed gasp as a boulder like man approached the stage. He hadn't even flinched when his name, Halsey, was called. I could successfully classified my opponent as Career material simply by his brute size. His cold, stone face matched his deep black eyes. He was dangerous, and anyone could see it. His immensity and brutally were only magnified by my opposing presence. Only seconds after shaking hands with the monstrous eighteen year old I regained a sense of delirium. In vain, I attempted to escape the stage and the crowd, but of course running was just a ploy for the cameras; no matter how much I want to, there would be no possible way to escape being a tribute.
I returned to the present time of being on the train when Melody called me to dinner. Before rejoining the others, I took a moment to regather myself-dishinge myself, really. Once the twinkle of tears was apparent in my eyes, I made my way to dinner. I reluctantly took the open seat next to my aging mentor, Alder. He didn't even attempt masking his disgust for having to mentor a weak crybaby.
With much strength I resisted the urge to shovel every piece of food from the table into my mouth. I acted sullen and weak, too weak to even contemplate eating. Halsey, my fellow tribute, did nothing to protest his stomach as he piled his plate full with decadent food upon colorful soups upon rich mixtures. Everything looked perfect, and I could hear my stomach crying out to me in contempt towards my willpower to resist eating.
Somehow, I managed to act as if even the idea of food would trigger a land mine. I sat on the verge of tears the entire meal until Alder practically force fed me some food as he exclaimed in an echoing voice that I had to eat or else I wouldn't have any strength for the games-like he even thought I had a chance to begin with. It was excruciating trying to keep the look of pleasure the food gave me off my face, but I had to stay strong, even during indifferent moments like meal time, if I wanted to return home; which I promised myself I would. When saying goodbyes I had never bothered to make the promise to return, in case I wasn't able to keep it--which sadly was more than likely true. My friends and family would find no comfort in empty promises, anyway. If I wanted to survive these monstrous Games, nobody, including Halsey or my mentors, could know I wasn't nearly as weak as I lead on to be.
My head protested me stopping eating, but my stomach was overpowering; it can't contain another ounce of food. In my entire sixteen years of living I have never came close to an endorphin raising feeling like this: more than full, stuffed. I have eaten more tonight than I ate the entire month before the Reaping.
By the time I finished gorging myself with delicate foods, the recap had just begun to replay every district's Reaping. I hurriedly made my way towards the screen. I sat down in an empty chair just as a young blonde mounted onto District 1's stage. She is probably the same age as me, but she is much taller and more muscular than myself. Still, she isn't up to Career par. Someone was surely going to take her place; that was just as inevitable as the season's change.
I sit in paralyzing shock as the events continue rolling along on the large television screen. No one is there to take the blonde girl's place. No one is there to remove her from the Games. No one is there to steal her glory of participating. The blonde girl smiled sadly at the past Victors of District One when she realized no one was taking her place.
My shock doesn't quit then, though; it continues surging through me as no one volunteers to replace her District partner either. Granted, he is decently sized and plenty capable to win on his own, but I am still taken back when not a single teen in District 1 volunteers.
A reoccurring jolt rushes through my veins as I listen, through the dead-silence in our train room, to the prerecorded events from Capitol's favorite District, Two. Yet again no one voluntarily offers to join the Games.
As the recap's play begins to complete, I cannot hope but feel hopeful inside. The Careers are no where near their usual burley structor or express themselves through their usual lethal atmosphere. In addition, I find no threat amongst the other tributes, apart from Halsey and the District Ten male tribute. I strongly feel they are the only obstacle standing between me and a train returning home.
I find reassurance in my own dazzling recap spotlight. I appear more weak and sullen than even the twelve year old girl from Six, and believe me, she was a mess. I was delirious by the end of the Reaping, and my eyes glistens with tears and my face is stained and blotchy from crying as I boarded the train. That moment sealed the deal for my worthlessness; even I believed my act was sincere-though I clearly know its not.
The sight of a young girl from the final district is replaced by a group of blue fish-like people. They begin blabbering on about their disappointment of this years tributes. The announcers are still hopeful for a turnaround once the tributes have time at the training center, but they predicting a boring Hunger Games this year. Even if I have to personally raise Hell inside myself, I am going to be sure their prediction will be dead wrong.