Author's Notes: Well, yay for fast updates. The next chapter is going to be the actual Games, and I'm almost done with it, so hopefully another update this week. Luckily nothing good is on TV to distract me. Please review! And let me know if there are any errors I need to fix. Thanks to everyone reading and favoriting and reviewing this, my Odesta oneshot, and me as an author! It is greatly appreciated. Enjoy!

Chapter 5

The Night Before

I must have fallen asleep at some point because one of the workers comes and wakes me. She doesn't talk but motions for me to go and get to breakfast. There's a big window at the side of the room and I can see most of the candy colored Capitol going about their business while I'm stuck here. It's a luxurious prison, I think. Food and company and clothes and every luxury you could possibly want, but that doesn't change the fact that I'm trapped here and there are guards and my every move is being watched.

I change into a pair of cloth shorts, just like the ones I have at home, and a tank top and walk over to the dining area. Quinia, Bloom, Oliver, and Oliver's stylist are already eating. It didn't even occur to me that Quinia, Bloom, and Oliver's stylist stayed here last night. They're trapped in here just as much as I am. We eat our food in silence and then go down to training.

The three days of training go by extremely fast and uneventfully. I learn how to throw knives and tie knots and camouflage and tell poisonous plants from edible ones. I learn how to shoot an arrow and fire a gun and start a fire and climb. But when the time comes for the Gamemakers to give us training scores, I feel underprepared and I don't know what to show them. Would just standing there tying knots leave much of an impression? Probably not. After all, they've just seen twenty two other tributes do who knows what. So I leave the room where Oliver and I sat together and walk to the training room where the Gamemakers are dining and seem a bit drunk. I go on to announce myself anyway, just like Quinia told me to do. "My name is Karen McGrady, and I am from district twelve." Most of them turn their attention to me, some do not. I walk over to the knife throwing station and start throwing at the targets. I don't hit them directly but I'm only centimeters off. Then I move over to the climbing station and I climb the rock wall until I reach the high ceiling, and come back down. Most of the Gamemakers applaud, some do not. I don't even think a few even know I'm here. "Thank you," I say, and walk out.

"How'd it go?" Finn asks as I walk down the hall. I stop and turn to face him.

"Were you seriously waiting this whole time?" I ask. It takes a long time to get from four to twelve, plus we'll be forced to kill each other soon.

"We want to see how our future ally is doing," Pepper responds, appearing from behind the corner.

I laugh. "Allies? Who said anything about allies?" Sure, it would be great to have those two as allies. Finn has incredible hand-eye coordination and Pepper is pretty good at camouflage and plants. But they shouldn't just assume. No ever said anything about actually needing allies, but I feel like everyone is starting to pick them out now.

"Well, I think you'd be valuable, Pepper thinks you'd be valuable, and you probably think we'd be valuable. See you in the arena Kare Bear," he smirked and the two walked off.

I shake my head but can't help smiling as they walk away. It's weird thinking that two or maybe all three of us will be dead soon. Most or all of us won't go back to our families and our districts. Dismissing the unpleasant thoughts, I go back to the 12th floor of the training center to eat lunch before they release the training scores.

All the tributes are lined up back stage, ready for their interviews. Well, as ready as we'll ever be. Bloom put me in a skin tight black shirt and matching shirt, with my makeup the same as it was on my first day in the Capitol. And with these five inch heels on, I feel like if I move I'll fall over. I watch nervously as tribute after tribute has an interview with Malec Morshale, the host of the Games. He's sort of creepy, and at one point he makes a joke about how big Jewel's boobs are. (At which Pepper remarked "He's a charmer.") I watch Pepper and Finn use their charm and breeze through their interviews, but I'm incredibly nervous. The minute I step on that stage, I'm probably going to fall flat on my face.

It's finally my turn, with just Oliver and me standing back stage. I don't want to go up there and I don't want to leave Oliver alone backstage. But I walk, gripping tight on to the railing as I go, up the stairs and on stage. The crowd erupts into applause but I hate it. I hate being here and being in front of an audience and knowing that in their minds I'm nothing more than an animal, being forced to fight for their entertainment. That right there is enough to bring me to tears, but I take deep breaths as I walk over to Malec Morshale, telling myself to stay calm and go with the sexy approach Bloom and Quinia told me. When I sit down, I stick my chest out a bit, not enough for the audience to notice I'm purposely doing it, but enough to make my breasts look bigger, even though there's all that padding.

"Wow, you are beautiful," Malec says, and for the first time I get a good look at him. Yellow- not blond, actual yellow- hair that curls into an afro, dark skin, and a green jumpsuit. I wonder where these Capitol trends started. I'm not one for looks, but who ever said that was fashionable? Anyway, I don't respond to him. "Let's get right to it then!" He seems to basically be asking the same questions to every tribute, so I kind of know what to expect. But he's also asking questions he knows will aggravate us.

"Being from district twelve, you probably didn't have the best childhood. I know your family was in the poorer part of the district." I don't really know where he's going with this. Is he just telling the audience? Or is he trying to make me think about all the painful memories of almost starving to death? If it's the latter, it's definitely working. "What family do you have back home?" And that's when I realize where this going. He knows. He knows about the bomb and my mother.

"My father and little sister," I tell him simply. I know the next question.

"What about your mother?" He asks with a stupid, sly grin, like he enjoys torturing us, and I think about Jonas and the same grin he had before I was whipped.

"Dead."

"How?"

"Bomb."

"Well you'll probably be with her soon, isn't that right, dear?" It takes all I have left of me not to burst into tears right there on stage.

I swallow and nod my head, "Probably." Because he's right and he knows it and I know it, too. I won't be seeing him again for a post-Games interview. It won't be me who comes out of this. My thoughts drift to my father, watching the interviews on a big screen in the middle of the district. How is taking this? Making me talk about her like this. Because she may have been my mother but she's his wife and I'm his daughter. What's Logan doing? I know both of them have short tempers.

"If your mother looks anything like you, I'd love to be seeing her up here. It's a shame she's dead. I mean... passed on." But he's not sorry. He knows exactly what he's saying and what is going to make me tick and what is going to get the people back in district twelve to react. The Capitol has this all down to a science. I now realize what I'm actually getting into. I see now how badly President Brooke wants to see us suffer and die. This Game is going to be deadlier then I thought. "Well, it looks like we're out of time. Karen McGrady, district twelve!" He stands up and grabs my hand so I stand with him while the crowd cheers.

"Thank you," I say and exit the stage. As soon as I'm out of view of the audience I take off my heels and rub my feet. There's been a feast prepared for the tributes in the other room, so I decide to head there. My head hurts and I'm still upset from that interview. I have always hated the Capitol, but that was just unthinkable.

I can see the tributes dining and the tables have been moved the same way they were on our first day here, maybe changed a little because of training scores. I pulled an eight, while Jewel, Gem, and Pepper received elevens. Finn had a ten and Oliver a six. The lowest was the girl from three, Tink, who looks twelve years old and incredibly weak. She pulled a two. I know I'm supposed to go to the feast, but something makes me keep walking down the hall. I walk until the hall splits in four directions and lean back against the wall. I'm angry and upset and I feel like I'm going to cry but all my emotions are being removed. I stepped in this place and I died. I am already dead. I've been dead for a long time, actually. I have been mentally dead for almost a year now and this is just the last straw. But that's okay because I'll be dead in a few days anyway. Out of frustration, I throw my shoes at the wall across from me and slide down the wall as they clatter to the floor.

"Be careful, you might be punished for that," I hear Finn tell me.

I laugh bitterly. "That was a good one." They can't punish me anymore than they already are. I open my eyes and look over at him. My makeup is probably smeared from my tears and my head is still pounding. He's sitting there, slumped against the wall, watching me.

"That wasn't fair of them." Duh. Finn's interview was a piece of cake. Of course the Capitol favors district four and two and one. They didn't rebel, or at least not like the other districts, so they're being favored in this whole thing. One of them will probably win; they have the advantage of being better fed and having the Capitol like them better.

I don't respond. I tip my head back against the wall and close my eyes again. I feel the tears, hot and heavy, behind my eye lids. "Can you leave?" It comes out as a barely audible whisper. I know he came to comfort me but I don't want to break down in front of him. I don't want him to think I'm weak.

I hear his footsteps down the hall and once they disappear I transform into the girl from district twelve. The girl who's starving, whose mother died, and who's struggling to hold it together for even the shortest amount of time. I'm curled in a ball and sobbing hysterically and struggling to breath. I'm in the damp, dark bedroom on my mattress crying for days on end. People come to try and coax food into me but I won't take it. Three days go by before I finally eat the tiniest bit. But I still spend days sobbing disgustingly, curled in a tight little ball, locking out the rest of the world. Squeezing my eyes shut so tight it physically hurts. The cold tile floor pressed hard against my face and chills go up my spine and I realize that I'm going into the Games tomorrow so I cry even harder.

I can't do this.