Before we enter into The Hungry Games, we must be beautiful so the citizens of Volturi (both a people AND a place) can enjoy our demise on television.
Cinnamon, a former stripper, is my stylist.
He frowns as he shaves off the mounds of hair from my leg. Straightens my hair with an In-Styler. Clothes me in Dolce and Hoochiemama.
I should feel bad, that these clothes cost more than the food my family has ever eaten.
But I don't. So I won't mention it in this story.
I sit in expensive clothing, and eat caviar and rib-eye steaks. They are delicious. I stuff my mouth because I have no manners.
Edward says nothing.
Just like Gale and Jacob never did. Apparently, its attractive.
I eat the meal, then silently retreat to a room made of gold. Edward sneaks in there later. I wake up at three in the morning as he jacks off in the dark to my thrashing.
If I farted, I'll never know.
He doesn't mention it.
He comes all over his hand. "What's wrong?" I ask.
"I won't be a pawn in their games," he says defiantly.
No, that's too big of a word.
"I won't be a pawn in their games," he says in a mean voice. Ok, that's better.
I wish I could be strong like him.
"I can't afford to think that way."
My Mother is suffering from depression and Katniss needs me. I can't be like him.
Otherwise, how in the hell will I ever afford to buy her Reeses Cups?
I go to sleep that night, restless.
The Hungry Games starts tomorrow.
I am scared.
And somewhere in the background, All Falls Down by Kanye West plays softly.
I do the cabbage patch dance. Edward does the running man.
We both sleep soundly.