Welcome to Chapter Five! Because of all the attention this story's been getting (it may not seem like a lot to some people, but after taking a year off, I'm glad to see something of mine get this much attention, in my opinion), I think I'm going to try to update a lot over the weekend! I seriously am so obsessed with writing this. I love writing about the struggles of the Hunger Games in general, but when I concocted Jet, it just got even more exciting, and with more depth. I feel flexible and free to do a lot of things with this, as I feel Jet is very mature and can adapt easily.
I'll stop rambling and let you guys read, I promise.
In this chapter, we see more interaction between Jet and Gloss, Jet has a mental breakdown, Gloss gives us a shocking confession, Sheen has a hard time and maybe gets a lesson in humility and finally understands what the Hunger Games is all about, and more insight to the way Jet takes things, as I actually have her talk some in this chapter! To almost complete strangers! *gasps*
Also, I should probably make it a note to tell you guys that this chapter is kind of depressing, for some reason. Well, at least it felt like that when I wrote it. Then again, I was also listening to my sappy playlists.
Okay, I'm done now! As always, reviews, favorites, and follows are always well appreciated!
As we gather around the dinner table, it is silent for the most part, except for Teris' constant and senseless prattle. I stab the food uninterested as I place a hand at my temple, gently rubbing away the ache that had gathered there.
After lunch, things had been uneventful. I'd went in my room to do some philosophical thinking and strategizing on my own, as the mentors were busy having some type of meeting with President Snow. Sheen hadn't said anything to me when we were back. He'd just locked himself in his room, similar to what I'd done myself, leaving our escort with a flabbergasted look at our indifference toward each other and socialization in general. He went on to say how that wasn't going to get us any sponsors, blah, blah, blah.
Now, I'm feeling exhausted and run down as the party of District 1 is awkwardly still in silence, the only sound is the occasional clatter of metallic utensils hitting the bottom of the plate. I glance up at Gloss and he gives me a wink. I quirk my brow at that, but he gives me a dismissive nod, to what I translated as, We'll talk when no one else is around to hear our strategies and plans.
Eventually, to break the silence, Cashmere speaks up, "So, how do you think you did in training today?" She perks a brow as she glances between Sheen and me. Her tone isn't necessarily a positive one, to put it lightly. Her eyes are screaming disgust and frustration.
Sheen mumbles something unintelligible while I just shrug. She had seen how Sheen had done, and it was obviously just salt in the wound to him. I think she wanted him to explain himself.
"How do you think we did?" I ask, cocking my head to the side at the blonde before me. Gloss clears his throat as a warning as he shakes his head, advising me not to take the conversation any further.
Cashmere shakes her head, a look of annoyance making its appearance known on her pretty face. "I thought you didn't do too bad. I don't think you'll get very far, but I'll think you'll get farther than this oaf."
Gloss gives her a look as he shakes his head again, this time directed at his sister. I try not to let myself get angry at her statement, so I just shrug it off. "Fair enough," I respond shortly, averting my eyes from the siblings that sat across from me.
Teris clears his throat, speaking for the first time that night. He rakes a hand through his purple hair. "I think it'd be best if we didn't talk about this at the table," he spoke in that Capitol accent, and I just plain lost it. I don't know why, or how, really, but I just couldn't take it. I stand up from my chair, then roughly push it in as I sulk back to my quarters. I hear another chair being pushed out, and I guess it's Sheen, as I hear Cashmere's exaggerated sigh.
I sit on my bed, fiercely wiping my eyes, not wanting a drop of the damnable tears to drop. I sniffle softly, running a hand through my hair, doing my best to take deep breaths. I can't take this. I can't do this. The Games are already destroying me, and it's only been the first day of training. Cashmere's right.
I'm going to die.
I'm dully aware of my door being opened. "Not really up for conversation right now," I say shortly, not wanting to talk too long, for fear of my emotion showing in my voice.
"Not even for your favorite mentor?" I hear that voice, and I know instantly that it's Gloss. I curse the smile that appears on my face. I'm supposed to be upset, dammit.
I turn to look at him as he stands in the threshold of my quarters. I shake my head, giving a small sigh. "Okay, fine. You can come in," I give in to him, watching as he walks totally in my room, the door sliding shut behind him. He crosses my room in long strides, seating himself in the armchair that's opposite my bed.
"You wanna talk about it?" He asks tentatively once he's situated, a pensive look on his handsome features as he places the tips of his fingers together, looking at me closely.
I shake my head, sighing at myself. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have had an outburst like that. I should apologize," I say quietly, not meeting his eyes.
"For what?" he asks curiously.
"For setting your sister off. She probably hates Sheen and I both now," I sigh, shaking my head once again at the stupid impulsiveness I'd exhibited just minutes earlier. Typically, I'm one to be proud over my hard-to-ignite temper and quiet disposition, but I'd just lost it, resulting from earlier today with my fellow Careers, Cashmere, and that stupid Capitol voice that every despicable person speaks in that lives here. I hate the Capitol and anyone who represents it. They're making us enter this pageant of death for shallow, vapid entertainment for people who have never known a day of hunger or anguish in their lives. The saddest emotion they experience is when their favorite tribute dies. Petty.
"My sister didn't mean what she said, and she doesn't hate either of you. She's frustrated with Sheen, but that's just her. She expects a lot. And, it wasn't you that set her off, trust me. She's been seething since the meeting," he replies evenly to me.
I quirk a brow in inquisition. "What happened?"
"It's best we not talk about it," he says quickly. After a moment of silence, he continues, "I don't want to talk about my sister. I want to talk about you. Why'd you snap?" he repeats his question from earlier.
I shrug, not wanting to seem weak or unstable, but I know it'll come off that way, anyways. "The Games; they're already getting to me."
He nods slowly, leaning back in the armchair. "What about them?"
He was like a therapist, for God's sake. I sigh, frustrated. "I don't know, everything," I finally answer, exasperatedly.
"Did something happen during training I didn't see?" he probes further, arching a golden brow.
I shrug in indifference, cursing him for digging so deep. I just wanted him to drop the subject entirely, but I had a feeling he wouldn't until he got to the bottom of it. "What did you see to begin with?"
"Nothing much. You listened to me pretty well and didn't show yourself off. If you're upset about training, I didn't see anything you did wrong, which would lead me to believe that something happened when I wasn't looking," he answers.
"Why do you care?" I snap angrily. I'm surprised at my harshness, and want to take it back, but the words tumble out of my mouth as my brain scrambles to protect my pride. I don't want to disappoint him, and I definitely don't want him to know about the fact that Wyatt, the District 11 male, knows I fear him and those killer, malicious eyes of his.
"I care because you're my tribute and I want to see you go home, not just be another face in the sky," he confesses, voice raised and filled with passion, his intense eyes locking onto mine.
His words give me goosebumps as I swallow the lump that's gathered in my throat. I'm speechless. He really cares? I'm at a loss for words as I just stare back into his eyes, a silence spreading between us. Eventually he gives a small sigh, his voice and eyes softening as he gently clasps one of my hands in his.
His hand is warm and firm with callouses that don't seem to fit him as he speaks sincerely, "Just don't give up on me yet."
"Please let me go!" I hear a shrill scream. Whipping my head to the side, I see a large figure holding someone smaller hostage. They're both male, I can see that, but I barely have time to inspect the scene anymore before I hear the metallic shing of a blade being drawn. I watch in hopeless horror as the bulking figure slides the knife across their hostage's throat, blood erupting in a red cascade as garbled, bubbly noises erupt from the captive's throat. They fall to their knees, giving a cough, blood spewing profusely from their mouth and the large, jagged cut that slices through skin and tissue.
I take a step back, my foot crunching on a leaf. I look around at the trees that seem to suddenly appear, then back to the gruesome scene before me. The alive figure turns their head sharply, and as I look, I see that it is Gregor. My eyes widen in terror as he advances on me, a twisted smile on his lips. I turn to run, but I slowly start to sink. I look down, seeing that I'm already knee deep in quick sand. I try to scream, but nothing comes out of my mouth. Gregor is getting closer and closer to me, his knife drawn, the fresh blood from his previous victim still dripping off the edge ominously.
He gets closer and closer still, and my heart pounds wildly in my chest. I try to scream once more, then twice more. I open my mouth again and again, desperately hoping for a sound to come out. Nothing does. As the deranged tribute reaches me, he stops a moment, his cloudy, uncharacteristic eyes meeting mine.
"We look after our own," he says before lunging at me.
I wake up screaming hysterically, hot, wet tears trailing down my cheeks as I am vaguely aware that I'm safely cradled in a pair of strong arms. I panic immediately, wrenching my body, trying to free myself, thinking it's Gregor that has me trapped. "Let me go! I don't want to die! Please!" I scream out, violently struggling and kicking at the blankets around me, not landing any successful kicks on the person holding me.
"Shh, shh, shh. Calm down. You're safe," a familiar voice says quietly, hot breath tickling my neck. I relax, ceasing my attacks as I glance up, seeing the faint outline of Gloss' features in the moonlight. My breathing slowly starts to slow down as I swallow nervously, still in a state of slight hysteria from my nightmare.
"Gloss?" I tentatively ask, still scared that I was in my unconscious mind.
He nods, and I breathe a sigh of relief. "It's alright, I'm here now. You're not the first tribute to get nightmares," he speaks in that same, quiet, calm voice as he gently ran his hand through my hair.
"I don't want to die. I can't do this," I say weakly, starting to feel hysteric again as a panic attack seizes me, paralyzing me in crippling anxiety.
"I know, I know," Gloss says soothingly, gently pulling me closer to him. I appreciate the stability he provides me as I turn my body, cuddling against his chest. "Get some sleep. Nothing can get you now. I'm here," he says as he lets out a deep, low sigh.
I slowly fall back into the darkness of sleep, this time, no dreams haunting me.
Nock, aim, loose, I recite like a prayer as I line my arrow up with the target standing before me. At the moment, no one is around me, so I take the advantage to actually brush up on some of my skills. I let the arrow fly and watch with an excited smile as it embeds shaft-deep into the dummy's heart. A fatal shot.
I turn around to pick up another practice arrow from the steel table as I notice Wyatt watching me. Immediately, I put the bow down on the table, avoiding him as I try to walk away, but he side-steps, placing himself in my path as he looks me up and down. "I didn't know you could shoot," he says, looking over at my arrow in the dummy.
I nod, giving him a cool glance. "Lucky shot."
"What game are you trying to play? I've read everyone in this place but you. You're mysterious. You're a Career, yet you want to hide your obvious skills," he gestures at the dummy. "A possible weakness?" he prods, a brow arching.
I don't respond, but rather quickly make my way around him, not wanting to be bothered with small talk anymore. I know that Gloss is going to have a fit over me taking a risk like that, shooting an arrow, but I have to at least know that I can still defend myself in that, arena, if need be.
The thought of Gloss sends a small shiver down my spine as I think of last night. I'd woken up later that morning and Gloss was gone. I'd been worried that it was all just part of the dream, I mean, why wouldn't it be? He'd kind of said he'd cared about me earlier, but that doesn't necessarily mean grounds for cuddling. However, when I'd walked into the dining room in the morning to greet him, he'd asked me if I'd slept any better. Again, I was just a puddle of confused emotions, feeling a little betrayed by my own feelings. Why did I even think that he would ever like me in that regard? I was just a tribute. I recall that when he'd embraced me in his arms, he'd also said that he'd had other tributes have nightmares. Did he hold them like he held me?
I'm so into my own world that I almost run into Sheen. We've been in training for a couple of hours now, but I really didn't spend any time with the Careers today, the trauma of my dream too fresh in my mind, so this was the first time since the morning that I'd seen Sheen. A light layer of sweat is on his skin and his clothes, evidence from working hard. From time to time I would glance over and see him working; sparring, handling swords, and practicing his spear throwing. A grim determination is set in his eyes and the sight almost makes my stomach drop to my feet. I always thought that Sheen would be harder than me, obviously, but I never thought to see that look, especially directed at me. It was the look that killers gave their victims.
He pays me no mind as he just shoves past me and onto archery. He looks at the dummy with a contemplative look before picking up the bow, aiming it as he draws the bow back, arrow nocked at a bad angle against it. His technique is wrong, so naturally, the arrow whizzes past the dummy and disintegrates against the force field that's at the back wall. He lets out a string of curses as he shakes his head, shoulders slumping in defeat. The scene is too difficult to watch, so I decide to leave and move onto another station.
I glance up at the mentors as I make my way over to the snares, seeing Cashmere shake her head as she talks to a large, burly male; I have the slight premontion she's talking about Sheen. He's not tall, having more of a stocky build. He isn't nearly as attractive as Gloss, or as the famous Finnick Odair, who I recognize in the mentors, as well. Eventually, I distinguish the male as Brutus, one of the two District 2 mentors. I watch their conversation a while more as he gestures to Gregor, then to Sheen. I see the offense on Cashmere's face, then I see Gloss coming up to her side. I avert my eyes at this point, feeling like I'm intruding on their conversation.
I busy myself with the snares, seeing that I'm actually pretty terrible with them. I expected them to be like knots, and thought that my lithe fingers would be good for the job, but I was just plain clumsy and incorrigible in terms of being taught how to use them. As I go to try for a second time, the lunch bell rings, and immediately, my heart rate picks up. I want nothing more than to not be stuck in that cafeteria, but I also know that I don't have a choice. My fellow tributes and I meander over, most of them looking more and more haggard every day, even though they're in the graces of the Capitol. So I'm not the only one who's being affected. They sure don't show you this on the broadcasts. The tributes always look perfect, I think with bitter contempt. With exception of a few souls, everyone looks either terrified, sick, or both.
I sit at the same spot as yesterday, flanking Sheen's right as Ameda sits to his left and Gregor to hers. I feel sick as Gregor looks at me, giving me a smirk. All I can think of is my nightmare, and I want nothing more than to escape from his gaze. To no surprise, he continues to stare at me until Wyatt seats himself at our table. I can hear Ameda's annoyance in her voice as she scoffs, rolling her eyes.
"Why do you think it's okay to still sit here?" she asks harshly.
"We should get to know each other before the Games," he counters dryly.
"That's not how it works," I speak up, quietly, but enough for me to be heard. Everyone seems to be in shock at the fact I open my mouth, and just like that, the topic shifts from Wyatt to me. I should just go back to not speaking, I chide myself as Ameda and Gregor tease me, their voices mocking and insulting at "the girl who finally speaks".
I tune them out as I look over at Sheen. He is totally quiet as he finishes lunch, eyes hard and focused. I mouth a quick, "You okay?" at him once he makes eye contact. Sure, he was pompous and overly confident, but he was still my district partner, and he was the only thing that I had that still reminded me of home.
He nods at me, giving a small twitch of his lips that could have been portrayed as a smile, if you have an imagination. As I look around, I see that there are very few alliances formed. It seems that, for the most part, tributes are either sitting alone, or with two or three other people. The rest of lunch continues much like it did yesterday at my own table, awkward and thick with tension, until a bell rings once again, dismissing the end of tribute interaction for the day.
We all mill back to our designated areas. Once Sheen and I reach our district quarters, we part ways, but not before I try to understand what's going on with him. "Hey, can we talk for a minute?" I take advantage of the opportunity of not having our mentors or Teris currently in the room.
He gives me a sullen nod as he makes his way over to me. "What's going on?" I ask, trying to seem sincere and not like it's a ploy to get under his skin for the Games. We're both already on edge, so added manipulation from a district partner is not really what any of us need.
He gives a long sigh before running a hand through his voluminous head of hair. I remember then that a lot of girls liked him back at school and during training. I don't think anyone's ever really said no to him, or had any doubt in him. This is probably a really harsh awakening for him.
"Gregor's claimed me as a kill," he finally replies after a moment.
My mouth drops as I stand wordlessly. It was against the unspoken laws of the Career pack for a Career to mark another as a kill. It's typical for Careers to hunt on the other, weaker districts, but definitely not their own. Dumbly, at a loss for words, I ask, "What?"
Sheen just shakes his head, sighing. "He says that I'm an embarrassment to the Careers, so he wants to get rid of me. Cashmere tried to fix it with their mentor today, explain that Careers can't do that to each other." That would explain why Cashmere was talking to Brutus, I deduce. It dawns on me that Sheen actually thinks he can trust these people. I feel pity for my district partner there in that moment. His naivety will get him killed in the end.
I also think, however, that in the game of the survival of the fittest, there isn't room for error or bad judgments. Sheen decides our conversation is over and leaves, turning on his heel as he makes his way to his quarters. I make my way to my own, sitting on my bed, drawing my knees up to my chest.
Perhaps in my dream last night it was Sheen getting killed by Gregor. I shiver at the thought; the blood, the coughing and choking. Sheen doesn't deserve to die like that. My eyes feel misty as tears threaten to spill for the third time that day. I take a deep breath, closing my eyes. The Games are torture, utter, and complete torture. All of those sayings were true when I was at the academy; the Games don't start when the clock ticks down, they start as soon as the two simple words of your name are read on that small piece of paper on Reaping Day.
I sit like this for a long while, contemplative and meditative. I hear my door being slid open, and I see Gloss walking towards me, two plates of food in his hands. He gives me one as he sits in the same armchair he had earlier that day.
"Cashmere and I decided it would be best to give both of you a pep talk in private," he explains as he starts to eat.
I nod in understanding, adjusting myself so I can give him my attention and eat without spilling it on myself like a moron. "I heard about Gregor's promise."
Gloss nods, sighing deeply, the exhaustion in his voice evident. "Brutus refuses to convince Gregor to change his mind. He says, 'If they're an embarrassment, then they don't deserve to be in the Careers.'."
"So what does that mean for Sheen and me? You can't really have a Career Pack without District 1," I say incredulously.
Gloss shakes his head, "I really don't want to talk about this right now. I've had enough negativity for one day." His mood picks up as a smile creeps on his face. "While I'm upset you ignored me today and showcased your skills, I'm thoroughly impressed with your range skills, by the way."
I blush at his compliment. "I'm better with a knife," I say shyly.
"I wouldn't want to cross you, then," he says, chuckling softly, a look of pride adorning his features.
I smile the first genuine smile that I've had in what felt like forever. "You're quite the charmer," I say, a smirk replacing the smile as I mirror the smirk that he had also made.
"I am in full knowledge of this," he says, smirk growing wider.
I can't help but inwardly swoon, even though I know it's foolish and futile. The odds are against me, and I probably won't be coming out of that arena, and if I do, the odds are even slimmer that the dazzling and suave Gloss would ever like me back.
I mentally chide myself for being so negative, but having that outlook on life seems better than getting disappointed in the end.
So, opinions? I'd like to know what you guys think about things so far, especially my portrayal of the characters! Also, I'd like to know what you guys think about my own characters. It'll be picking up more when we get to the Games.
LadyGalxdriel: Welcome to the story! I'm glad to have you as a reader! Here's an update for you!
.92317: (Stupid Fanfiction isn't letting me write out your name properly.) Thanks for your review! I'm happy that you like the way I'm portraying Gloss and Cashmere! I know that some people probably expect Gloss to be a bit more brutish, but I honestly never saw him like that. I always imagined him to be very calm, cool, and collected. Cashmere, however, I anticipated to be high strung and a perfectionist, so that's how I portray her in this! I'm glad you like Jet, as well. I think she's one of my favorite original characters of all time! She's so fun to write and similar to myself.