They have branded me a career, but I am anything but. Trained from birth I was, but I am not unbreakable. Careers are supposed to be strong the toughest of the lot. But here I am trembling from my weakness. The craving for that burning liquid wraps it's way around my veins; intertwining itself throughout my entire being. I rest my head against the cool glass and gaze outside the window. Colors blur across my vision painting my world in a series of flashing images. My eyes are drawn to the towering city that draws closer and closer each time I blink my eyes.
The buildings stand tall like I once used to. I used to be proud of who I was; proud that I was from District 1. How funny it is a few simple experiences can change your entire lookout on life. How a few simple drops of scarlet can ruin one's mind; forcing you to go to desperate measure to find a way to escape. My escape has always been alcohol. The way it blurs my memories causing me to feel numb and in a way almost peaceful; disturbingly peaceful. Once the effects start to kick in its feels like the calm before the storm. It can only stop my brain from turning for, so long. When that feeling fades it's as if all my memoires come crashing back down on me at once. Flooding my head with images and sounds I long to be rid of.
"Dane, dear were about to arrive in the Capitol. Come out to the main compartment, so everyone can get a good look at you," The sing song voice of our escort Jasmine drifts through my door. They just want to show me off; give them something to look at. How they love the careers, they love how ruthless and bloodthirsty we normally turn out to be. Of course they would love us all they want it a good show and that is exactly what they are going to get.
I open my door and head towards the main compartment. My addiction is a major setback that will hinder me in the arena, but a thought dawns on me for the first time; I want to make it home. I refused to let go that night a few months ago and I refuse to let my life be snatched away from my clutches now. I may not feel like it most of the time, but I am a career. I will not be going down without a fight.
I walk into the main compartment and ignore Avery as she waves me over to the dining table. Instead I walk over to the window where the beauty of the city engulfs my eyes. Everything is pristine shimmering colors of silver and gold's. In some ways it reminds me much of home; with its towering buildings and clean cut streets. I close my eyes briefly and picture home. I can see the training center with the sounds of possible tributes training blend together in perfect harmony. I used to spend much of my time there perfecting my skills. Even as a child I had an unnatural talent with a sword. How I miss the familiar feel of the steel in hands. I used to crave the feel of my blade, but now I crave the feel of that burning liquid. I let my mind wander to the desirable thought of the kind of weapons they will have in the Capitol. If I can just stay strong and fight my addiction. I bite my lip softly willing myself to just push those thoughts away. If I don't let think about it the temptation won't start to get to me. I breathe in sharply as I realize how false this is. No matter what I do it will continue to eat away at me.
I open my eyes to the sight of Capitol people cheering and waving madly. They are all dying for a little shred of my attention. I need to act the part of a career. I flash that confident smile that is a trademark look to most careers and wave back at the crowd.
"For someone who was, so hostile earlier you sure seem to be enjoying all the attention," Avery says as she stands next to me also waving at the crowd.
"Looks can be deceiving; especially here in the Games," I say back to keeping my voice calm.
I need to learn to keep my temper under control. Making enemies the moment I arrive in the Capitol will only hinder my chances of winning. I know that if I want to win I may need to rely on others to help me reach the top. Manipulation is not something that is new to the Games. The art of using one another was born in the first Games; that has not changed not even after forty four years of bloodshed.
She leans casually against the window studying me closely, "So, you're pulling the whole mysterious act now."
"Maybe I am; maybe I'm not."
She quirks her lip up in slight amusement, "I still think you could be useful in an alliance; my offer still stands if you want to reconsider."
I run over the positive and negatives of the offer of an alliance. If I am to accept I will have to fight harder than ever to stay in control of my addiction. They cannot know that I am weak and fragile. But will I be able to stay in control? How easy it can be for me to slip up if put under the right circumstances. With the promise of the pressure and stress to run high; my chances of loosing myself to my addiction greatly increase.
"I will think about it," I say to her as I turn away from her and sit down at the dining table across from my mentor. Drayton Cohen the victor of the 40th Annual Hunger Games. I being eighteen he is only a few years older than I am. But the horrors he was already suffered through greatly surpass my own. He turned out to be the most ruthless killer the Capitol had ever seen in years. Destroying life after life as if it was easier than breathing itself.
"Going the arena alone may not be the wisest decision for you. You're a career the other tributes will be sure to pick you off first if you're on your own," Drayton says to me his tone slightly on edge.
"I wouldn't even give them the chance to get close to me."
He leans in closer, so only I can hear his voice, "Don't think that I have no idea what you are Dane. I wasn't crowned victor for nothing. I can see the way your eyes keep twitching towards that alcohol bottle on the table that you desire its taste. I can tell by the way you keep clenching and unclenching your fists that it's taking all your strength not to reach over and drink its contents until you are left with nothing, but that feeling of numbness."
I stare at him while he leans back in his chair. How easily he is able to read me; keeping himself one step ahead of the game. I can only hope that the other tributes can't see me so clearly. The sound of our escort's voice grabs my attention as she leads Avery and me from the train.
Bathed in the golden light of the sun I can see now these games were never meant to be easy.