Disclaimer: Though it is well known by now, I do not own the Hunger Games.
Haha. So the story continues. Don't worry, I tell you when the last chapter is.
My eyes fluttered open. I leaned up in the bed that I was lying on; it was different from the one I was in when I was riding in the hovercraft. I was back in the training center. I was wearing nothing but a thin, soft, white robe. I shift uncomfortably, not used to having so little weight on me. I blink several times, letting the light sink into my eyes. Then did I notice that I was surrounded by Mayle, my mentor and stylist. I tried to hide my look of surprise when I saw their demented faces starring down at me. "She's awake!" Shrieked Mayle, with a renewed interest in her voice. I guess since I'm a victor I now classify as human. Joy, what an achievement that is.
My stylist walked over, and hugged me. His fluffed up purple hair brushes my face. All my muscles tensed at his contact. My nose scrunched as I tried not to sneeze. He withdrew and held me by the shoulders. "I, Fortinbras, knew that you were going to win the whole time. I never doubted you for a second. It was all in my costume work, that, and that alone, is what made the crowd adore you." Loathing filled me. He dare, after ignoring my very existence and not even trying to help me, take full responsibility for my victory?
My mentor brushed him aside and resumed his place. "Shut up, Fortinbras! You did nothing to help the girl. If you did anything, it was to contribute towards demise. I am the one she should thank for her victory. If it wasn't for my support in the arena, and the carefully planed strategy that I told her to follow, she surely wouldn't have lived." What support?! The pin!? I would have easily lived without that! It was the teenagers that died in the arena that I owed my life to, not these buffoons. And what was he saying about strategy?! Because whatever it was, he sure could have told me before entering the arena. The nerve of these people!
I might as well have been filled with fire. I stared at them with a look of complete loathing. My mentor returns that look to me, and starts to say something. Mayle takes a stand for me, "Oh, look, she is too gratified to even speak! How sweet, don't you think Tybalt?" He drops his gaze and grunts in reluctant agreement. She dare say that I speak in gratitude? I'm about to stare her down as well, then I realize, the self-centered Tybalt might have done something vile if she hadn't spoken otherwise. My internal fire was quenched. I guess I should thank Mayle for that one. She saved me from a rather unsavory outcome.
I nod my thanks, to let her know I understood what she did. She gives me an appreciative smile. Tybalt speaks on his behalf, "Well, at least I don't have to put up with training these brats anymore, just to have the district blame me for their death. Even though it was their children that were so weak. That is all up to you now. I can just go home and relax from now on." Right, now that I was victor, I took Tybalt's place as mentor. Not fun. Especially because I would be blamed if I failed. Or, perhaps I wouldn't, maybe that criticism was just for Tybalt.
Mayle interrupts before I can comment. "Enough chit-chat. The recapping is tonight. We need to get you ready, make you look presentable. Fortinbras, the floor is yours."
"It's always mine." Fortinbras smiles, grabs my arm, and helps me out of the bed. It's a good thing he does have my arm; once my feet are planted on the floor, I stumble, and would have fallen if it weren't for his support. "A bit unsteady? Don't worry, that will were off before tonight. I would simply die if you trip and tare the dress I made." I need to remind myself to keep loathing these people. They only pay me attention now that I was a somebody.
I was led to a room that I was prepared in before the interviews. Along the way, I regained the confidence in my legs, and by the time we reached the room, I was able to walk by myself. I was directed to sit in a white couch in the center of the room. Fortinbras left the room to retrieve something.
I couldn't help but think that this was all a dream. It seemed unreal; almost two weeks in the arena; and I had survived it all. I looked to my arms, to see the scars that remained. I almost jumped when I saw that there wasn't a trace of the injury that caused me so much trouble in the arena. I felt like part of my identity had been erased. Like my memories had been stolen. I couldn't help myself; a tear fell down my cheek and landed on the palm of my left hand. I wiped it on the robe.
Fortinbras returned at that moment, slamming the door behind him to make sure that I took notice of his entrance. He took no notice of any remnants of my tears. He was holding a black bag that probably concealed my dress for the recapping, a ignorant grin planted on his face. Probably more burnt wood, I think in my head. But who knows, maybe his bipolar style personality shift also included a dramatic change in his sense of fashion. I hesitate, not wanting to communicate, but curiosity overwhelmed me. "More burnt wood?" I inquired.
Fortinbras laughed, as if that was the silliest remark ever stated. "No, no, no. How could you think of such? I'm a professional, I don't want to ruin my status in the fashion industry by presenting you in something as ridiculous as that." I roll my eyes irritated. Did he even try to deny what he did earlier? He doesn't notice my irritation, because he is unveiling my dress.
I bit my lip to hold in my gasp. It has a straight crop on the top, with spaghetti straps. The end looked layered, the first layer starts at what I think would be my knee, and kept up five layers until the last would fall around my mid-calf. It's paper white, and has what looks to be cursive written all over it. It is made of silk, the soft, luxurious material that my family had never been able to afford. But what does it have to do with District 9? Fortinbras answers my question before it escapes my lips. "Paper is created by wood." Oh. I get it. Loose connection, but I get it.
I hesitantly take the robe off, and take the dress from him. I slip it on over my head. It's soft, or maybe not soft but smooth; and it flows down me elegantly, like snow. I don't know why it reminds me of snow. Why couldn't he make something like this before the Games?
"Ok. I have got to do something with your hair." He moves behind me and starts to brush it out with a comb he produced from his pocket. Once my hair appears to be free of tangles, which it mostly already was, he divides it into two sections and flips one over my right shoulder. He starts to French braid the left. Not familiar to the tug on my hair, my hand reaches up to hold it down. "Just relax." I take a deep breath and try to concentrate on a happy place. Only, I can't think of a happy place. But my search for one keeps me occupied. Once finished, he ties it with a white ribbon, and repeats the same to the other side. Every piece of hair was in place, even the one strand of hair that fell out during the arena still was held back by the butterfly clip. It seemed to uniform to me.
He once again doesn't put on makeup. He doesn't think it compliments my image. I look at myself in the mirror. I looked younger then I normally do. Maybe ten or nine. I looked small, innocent and helpless. Far from what the arena changed me to. A frown creeps its way onto my face. I didn't like looking like this, it makes me feel how I look, but I suppose I shouldn't object. I reversed the frown, and acted like I loved the way I looked. Fortinbras smiled with delight, and clapped his hands. He went like that for less than a minute, then a serious look, or serious for him, took over his face. "Ok, let's get you to the stage; the ceremony will begin at any moment."
I'm ushered down to the first floor on the training center. Mayle and Tybalt meet up with us and direct me through a door. It leads under the stage where I will review the recapping of the events. First to go up will be Tybalt, then Mayle, then Fortinbras, followed up by me. I'm lead to a metal plate that will bring me to the stage, much like the one at the beginning of the games. The one where the interrogations where held.
I hear cheering. Adrenaline starts to pump through my body. I see the others on separate platforms. Tybalt's name is called, and his starts to rise. When he disappears from my view, the crowd's cheering becomes chaotic. Somebody, probably Augustus, manages to calms them down. Then Mayle's name is called, and her platform rose, more cheering, followed shortly by Fortinbras. I was next.
The wild cheering of the crowd completely disappeared. My name was called. The platform began to rise. I looked down to my feet, and swallowed. I soon had to face forward though. It took ten seconds before it locked in place on the stage. Until then it was silent, then there was a mad outburst of screaming and cheering my name. Yelling congratulations, and just making noise. I totally and completely hated it. It gave me a headache. Lights were flashing, and music was playing loudly. A cloud of mist was surrounding my ankles. I could see the others collected in a corner of the stage.
For a terrifying second, I had no idea what I was supposed to do. Then I saw Augustus, hair still blood red, center stage, with a single chair beside him. I let out a sigh of relief and walked over there. I couldn't remember if I should sit, so I just stood there by the chair, and waited to see if he would motion me to sit down. He didn't.
Augustus waited a few minutes for the crowd to release their energy. When they kept going, he raised both of his hands to silence them. It took a few minutes, but they managed to hush to a quiet and the anthem played. Out of the corner of my eye I saw President Heat entered the stage, followed by a little girl in a white dress carrying a purple pillow with silver trimmings, topped with a crown. I turned to face that way.
President Heat was an old man with grey hair streaked with red. He would die soon, because even in the Capitol, people didn't live forever. President Heat had been the president for the past sixty years. He had made his impression on the country. Everyone hated him. The Games were said to be his idea.
It was also said that it was because of him that there were surprises interweaved in the Games. This I knew was true. Every twenty-five years there would be something called the Quarter Quell. They would have different themes that would make them even worse than the regular Games. I had an uncle who worked on the project of creating them. He told my father what they all were before he was murdered for treason. They never found out that we learned what they were.
President Heat stopped to my left. They had started to cheer when he entered the stadium, and they quieted once he was in a position to speak. "Congratulations, Glynn Sail, Victor of the 11th Hunger Games! We are glad to present you with the gifts that come with your accomplishment! We are also filled with joy to present your district with gifts for the next year!" He called, his voice echoing around the whole area. Until that point, it was almost perfect silence, the cheering unfortunately resumed. President Heat took the crown from the pillow. The little girl retreated back to the shelter of backstage. I wish that I could follow. He placed the crown on top of my head. He met my eyes, and smiled a pleasantly forced smile on his face. His eyes were filled with distrust. He probably thought I would do something stupid. Maybe we aren't so different after all. Well, other than the fact he was evil, but we still lack trust for other people. I couldn't help the grin that came upon my face. The distrust in his eyes settled once I relaxed a bit.
The crown was silver, and rather small, so it could fit my twelve-year-old head. It was made of metal flowers, vines and butterflies. Almost like it was made to match my gift in the arena. It was beautiful, really. But it was too much a reminder of those lost in the arena. Especially Glitch, District 11 was agriculture. It was like they wanted to hurt me by reminding me constantly what happened, and I never would forget what happened. And I would never forget how to get my revenge.
President Heat allowed one last round of applause, and went back to where he came from. It was almost like he was never there. Augustus stepped back next to my side, and gestured to the seat. I hesitated, then sat down. The crowd was hushed once again. "Ladies and Gentlemen, let the reliving of these incredible Games begin!" The music faded into the background. The lights dimmed, my chair turns to face the back of the stage.
I was struggling to control my regular breathing. I just noticed that there was a screen in the back, the one that was going to show me my worse memories again. It was completely blacked out. Unfortunately for me, I don't think that it was going to stay that way. But for a little part of that moment, I could hope. Hope that it would stay that way forever, swallowing me away from the rest of the world for an eternity. The screen started to light up, and the recap was about to begin. An upbeat music started to play. I tried to look away, but I couldn't, I wasn't allowed. I had to watch what happened. Again.
Sorry I didn't update this weekend, I was working on a paper for Inquiry. To make it up, I will post as much as possible this week. I have... about seven chapters after this. I might even finish the story this week!!! Haha. I have an idea for another story, deaths of the first Hunger Games. That way I can write short chapters and switch views. I also wrote a one chapter story of Clove. Hmmm.... well maybe I should just finish this first. I still want to be in the movie. I was told there were auditions in January, and others say the auditions were already. I hope the later is right. :D Thanks for reading! Thank you to all who have reviewed! Sorry I don't reply... maybe I should do that, I'm starting to think that it is rude. Oh well, Review anyway! There is a fourty-five percent chance that I will reply! :D