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"Athena Sunspeare, please come to the stage," Helena shrieks and the speakers echo her order. My ankles lock together and I stand rooted to this spot. Maybe if they can't find me she will pick another name.
The girls in my row all take a step back to reveal me to the fat cats. The girls didn't even stop to think about it, they acted as soon as they heard my name be called.
It is at least nice to know that girls in my age group know my name.
I flick my gaze to the big screen and see myself staring back. My wide, stunned eyes and parted lips reveal my shock to everyone in Panem. The thought of fat cats watching me manages to flick a switch in my mind. My lips lock together, my eyes narrow and now the girl on the screen looks fierce. Inwardly I am trembling in my boots.
I square my shoulders and force my feet on a brisk death march to the podium. Every step towards the podium is a step closer to my grave. I want to cry. My stubborn pride builds a dam but my fear threatens to break it.
A sea of eyes follows each step I take even as I ascend the steps. I hate it. I hate all of the attention on me. It should be prohibited to gawk openly at a corpse at her funeral.
I take thirteen steps up the staircase towards my death. The universe loves irony. The actions of thirteen districts are the reason I am going to die.
Helena's face looks a little bumpy on her cheeks, forehead and nose close up; I guess her paint is used to hide her pimples. More paint has been used to draw thin eyebrows on her face too.
It is strange concept to me, someone hiding their imperfections behind layers of paint and artificial features. Her nose looks too small to be natural and her lips look like she had an allergic reaction to something.
Helena studies me as well.
Her eyes trail up my body before stopping on my face. I can't decipher her feelings clearly because her face is too stiff and still. Her eyes remind me of cold, sharp ice and her piercing gaze covers my skin with chills. The leather layer can't protect me from her icy look.
I stand beside her and she instantly shifts her gaze away from me.
She doesn't like me. Good. I don't like her either.
"Is there a volunteer?" Helena asks the sea of eyes but no one steps forward.
Usually the escort asks the tribute a question but Helena blatantly ignores me. Instead she is eyeing the sea with desperation. She looks desperate for any other fish to reel in, but no one bites her bait.
"Welllet'smoveontoourmaletribute," Helena sounds frazzled and her sentence merges into one long word. She struts hurriedly towards the male crystal bowl and rips out the first paper she touches.
"Rory Mollusc," Helena calls. A small boy is left alone as the other boys move away from him. He is standing at the front, in our district the front is reserved for the youngest and the back for the eldest. This Rory is obviously only twelve and this is his first year in the reaping draw. This kid probably only had one slip.
His frightened, wide, doe-like brown eyes are frozen on Helena. A weird sense of déjà vu washes over me; this scene is oddly familiar. I stare at him bewildered as his features begin to morph into someone familiar. His brown eyes blur until they are dark shade of blue.
Marcus.
An old wound is ripped apart. I'm so, so glad that the cameras are on his face instead of mine. The pain is unbearable and inescapable. I can't compare it to anything. No words can describe it. It's just… overwhelming.
I see Marcus even as Rory's unique, long, dark brown waves sway side to side against his face. Long, dark brown waves transform into golden ringlets.
"Come on," Helena squeals and peacekeepers move towards him. The peacekeepers surround Rory and usher him forcefully towards the podium. I rip my gaze away from him and try to recover the tattered pieces of my mask.
"Any volunteers?" Helena asks. My eyes scan the sea of eyes and I hope that one of them will take the bait. No one does. I have to build a wall. I have to build a wall and place it between us. I can't… I can't physically stomach the idea of having to kill someone who…
"Shake hands," Helena squeals into the microphone and I finally look down at Rory. Rory extends his hand to me and I hesitantly shake it.
I don't want to touch him. I don't want to be near him. I shake his hand for half a second before tugging my hand away.
Rory's brown eyes curiously study me but, when Helena speaks, his fear quickly returns.
"Happy Hunger Games all and may the odds be ever in your favour."
The national anthem of Panem blasts out of the speakers and the peacekeepers circle around Rory and me.
Two, large wooden doors fly out and the peacekeepers beckon us forward.
Inside the District Hall it is beautiful. Shiny marble floors and cream coloured walls. There are even a few concrete statues on pillars. The statues are mermaids with long, curly locks covering their bare chests.
"She's ghastly isn't she Finnick," Helena wails loudly which draws my attention away from the beauty of the District Hall.
I look over my shoulder but the doors are being closed by two men dressed in black. However, I briefly catch a glimpse of Finnick and Helena looking at me.
Ghastly? I'm ghastly? That is ironic coming from the woman who has very obviously altered her looks and covered her imperfections with paint!
Anger flows through my veins as her words ignite my fiery temper. I ball my hands into fists and clench my teeth together.
"I think you're beautiful," Rory's innocent and genuinely kind words extinguish my anger.
"You are obviously the only person with that opinion," I reply.
I'm not concerned about my looks but I have feelings. She obviously wanted me to hear them both call me ugly.
"Do you really trust the woman who coves her face in that white powder stuff?" Rory asks me cheekily.
His wide, brown eyes peer up at me innocently and his soft, genuine smile is contagious. I stop myself instantly after I find myself smiling down at him, but his eyes caught my smile. His smile widens until the corners of his lips can almost reach his ears.
"You look even more beautiful when you smile especially with the dents in your face," Rory informs me.
"Dents in my face?" I ask confused but I understand when he touches his cheeks. "They are dimples and… thanks," I reply quietly.
The fear still lingers in his eyes but the childlike sparkle begins to glow brightly.
In his eyes I can see years of laughter and love bottled up.
Peacekeepers lead him towards a door and the little brat makes sure to wave at me before he enters the room.
It is probably his plan to soften his competitor so that his competitor won't kill him. I will have to stay away from him. He can't see me as a friend or an ally.
The peacekeepers lead me into a room too. The room is bare except it has a desk and a leather couch.
"You get an hour of visitors before you leave for the train station," the peacekeeper informs me. I know this voice. I swivel around to study his features and my gaze softens. Uncle Jon gives me a small smile before closing the door. I feel better knowing that one of my dad's close friends is guarding my room.
I quickly study my surroundings a little more critically. Wooden floors that shine under a glamorous light fixture that reminds me of a wind chime, powder blue walls decorated by one large painting of the sea and long, sand coloured curtains drawn tightly together. The only furniture in this room is the polished, wooden desk that is the same colour as the floor and the white leather couch.
The painting is a mixture of blues, white and purples blended together for the waves, a mixture of grey hues for the rocks and dabs of green for the seaweed. It simply captures waves crashing into rocks but the painter has developed the scene to make it much more flamboyant.
I begin to pace backwards and forwards across the wooden floors. The wait is agitating and long. I won't get visitors unless Mrs Shell wants to inform me that she is taking my stuff. Ha! She doesn't have much to take.
Will anyone attend my funeral? Surely Mrs Shell will. I mean, she is my legal guardian.
A wonderful thought appears in my mind; Mrs Shell is my legal guardian but that could change if I win the games. A smile spreads across my face as I imagine being in control of my own life.
No more Mrs Shell, no more Lorcan, no more Declan and no more Panem.
When a tribute wins, Panem recognises them as an adult. So if I win I will be in charge of myself.
I could afford a boat with the winning money and just leave Panem forever.
I continue to pace, my footsteps have probably worn out the polish on the wooden floor.
Mrs Shell doesn't come. No one does. Uncle Jon opens the door and informs me that my hour is up.
Uncle Jon doesn't speak to me again. I wish he would except I know he could be punished for speaking out of term. He probably learned from my father's mistake to obey protocol.
Uncle Jon and three of his colleagues escort me outside to a black car. I've been in a car once before with my dad. Uncle Jon opens the door and I slip inside. I try to catch his gaze but his gaze is averted to the ground.
No words of encouragement or a farewell, he simply closes the door. I understand why he can't speak to me but it doesn't lessen the hurt I feel. This experience has only reminded me that I have absolutely no one.
Rory is already inside the car crying.
"Oh, hey, did you get to say goodbye too?" Rory asks me as he furiously rubs away his tears. His tears don't stop, when they can't flow down his cheeks, they change course and flow down his fists. Rory gives up his fight to stop them.
Rory slumps his shoulders in his seat and releases a loud cry.
"I'm afraid," Rory wails and he hugs his knees to his chest.
Rory looks smaller than he really is. He shouldn't be here. He should be at home playing with his friends and spending time with his family.
"Me too," I confess softly to him. I know I shouldn't be talking to him because attachments to people in the games can only result in agony. However, I, I just want to…
Seven years ago Marcus sat in his place and I can only hope that the female tribute that sat in mine tried to do the same for him.
Rory tilts his face to the side to look at me.
His bottom lip wobbles slightly as he exclaims, "But you look strong and you're really pretty so the people will help you!"
I choose not to reply to that comment. He's half right, I am strong because I am trained. He is also half wrong, I doubt the fat cats will help me based on my looks.
Rory continues to cry, in fact he cries more. He has good reason to be afraid and to cry. Rory is a guppy about to be thrown into a tank filled with sharks. He's so small that he makes me look tall. In our district, he is too young to enter a club but he is old enough to enter the arena. Panem is a joke. A cruel, cruel joke of a nation based on oppression and not the so called freedom the fat cats boast about.
The fat cats will be waiting for us at the train station. All of them waiting excitedly to reveal our faces to everyone in Panem, more importantly to the other tributes. Everyone will be judging us from the moment we step out of this car.
Rory is already a target and looking like a cry baby will only make him a bigger target.
"There is going to be a lot of people at the train station," I gently inform him.
Rory settles his chin on his knees and mumbles, "I know."
How can mothers, fathers, aunts, uncles, grandparents and great-grandparents watch the children of others die? The fat cats have decayed hearts buried beneath the multiple layers of paint. No matter how much paint they wear, it will never hide how truly ugly they are.
Was Marcus this scared? The thought of Marcus crying like Rory… it burns and stings like fresh wound being dipped into the sea.
My pull my mind away from thoughts of Marcus by focusing on Rory's leaking brown eyes. Rory tried to cheer my up with his kindness so I owe him a little. However, no compliment or praise escapes my lips. I don't want to be too nice. Feed a stray dog and it will come back for more.
Maybe a good laugh will make his sad tears look like happy ones.
"You know, Helena might think you are just as ghastly as I am," I jest lightly in a mock Capitol accent. It is really easy to mock the fat cats. Open your mouth slightly, roll vowels off your tongue like a hiss and end your sentences on a high note.
Small giggles bubble out from between Rory's lips before he throws his head back and roars with laughter. I would never have known that loud laughter could come from such a small person. Tears leak down his cheeks again except they are good, happy tears.
"She'll be like, oh Finnick isn't he ghastly," Rory splutters out in a very bad rendition of a Capitol accent. I laugh but only because of his terrible Capitol accent. The sound of my laughter seems odd but maybe I think it is odd because it is rare.
"Or, oh Finnick we shall have to paint him white and draw some black ticks on his forehead for eyebrows," I add jokingly as I think of her terrible alterations. Rory laughs more and I have to fight back another bout of laughter.
"Maybe its lack of air to her head. Her nostrils are the size of dots," Rory jokes and I laugh so hard that my stomach hurts. I can't stop laughing no matter how hard I try. All I can see is Helena desperately trying to suck air through two full stop sized nostrils. The fat cat would probably snort like a pig in her attempt!
We both sober up as the car pulls in to the train station. It is a surprise to suddenly be here. I didn't even notice that the car had even left District Hall.
The train station is filled with photographers and film crews. All of them wait to eagerly capture images of District 4's tributes. Our district is generally a Capitol favourite in the games because we have a high chance of winning compared to a district like District Eleven. Finnick Odair has also boosted our popularity by flaunting his good looks in the Capitol.
Everyone in our district knows that Finnick jumps from one bed to the next in the Capitol. Declan often complains about Finnick Odair's luck.
This is an important moment for both of us. I need to make sure I look like a worthy competitor and Rory needs to make sure he avoids looking like an easy target.
"Good luck," Rory whispers with a silly smile still on his face. His eyes aren't as bloodshot as they were before and he looks like he has been laughing more than crying. Good. I wear the fierce, determined mask I wore at the reaping ceremony again.
We both exit the car only to be met by flashing white lights from dozens of cameras.
Flashes of bright white lights are everywhere. It is almost blinding. All of the fat cats are buzzing with excitement and they keep calling our names. I've never heard my name be repeated so much by so many different people.
I hate the attention. I'd prefer to be in the shadows than in the light. In the open you are left vulnerable.
Chin up, square your shoulders, walk confidently and pretend they aren't there, I think to myself.
I stride confidently towards the train station with Rory by my side. I catch a glimpse of us on a screen. My mask is intact and Rory looks all happy-go-lucky and his eyes are still twinkling with laughter.
I didn't know Rory had it in him. His cheerful expression is like a slap to the fat cats faces. They want us scared and powerless but Rory looks like he is having a proper laugh at their expense.
I find myself smirking down at him at the same time I find him grinning up at me.
Our mentors and Helena are all standing beside the entrance to the train.
We share another amused look after noticing Helena's sour expression. Helena's eyes are narrowed and her lips are pressed tightly together. Unfortunately for her, she looks more constipated than annoyed.
"Now turn around and smile for Panem," Helena hisses at us when we reach her side.
Rory and I spin around but the smirk slips from my face. I stand stiffly and wait for the tirade of photographs to finish. I hate this. I hate all of this attention. Why is one photograph not enough for them? Can't they just leave me alone?
"We can enter the train now," Helena hisses behind us.
Instead of letting me move, Helena decides to take one of my hands and tug me into the train. Once we are in the train, she steps away from me as if I am diseased. I don't get what her problem is.
The train suddenly jolts and I nearly tumble over. I part my legs into a steady stance and prepare myself for the train to jolt again.
However, the train just continues to trudge along at a fast speed and only rocks slightly side to side. The rocking and swaying part is okay because I am used to a boat doing the same.
"Well, I'm sure you are both tired and want to retire to your beds to sleep," Helena quickly babbles out as if she cares about our well-being.
"It is morning. We both have just woken up from a sleep," Rory retorts.
Helena splutters and looks lost for words, so I come up with a suggestion, "You could let us watch District 1, 2 and 3's reaping so we can see the other tributes."
Helena gives me a sour look as if I just placed a slice of lemon inside of her mouth. What is Helena's problem? Her attitude towards us has been ghastly.
"That is a good idea. Finnick and I will come with you to give you both some advice," Mags responds softly in Helena's stead.
"But a mentor should stay with me so we can plan an approach," Helena basically hisses out with her eyes on Finnick.
"I think we can plan an approach all together afterwards," Mags retorts. To my surprise Helena growls, throws her hands up into the air and stomps outside the train room to another connecting room.
It feels a little awkward now after her abrupt tantrum. Rory and I both share confused looks. Our escort doesn't want to escort us at all. In fact, our escort looks like she wants to throw us out of a train window instead.
"Sorry about that. We will lead you both to the viewing room," Mags says softly.
At least our mentors want to mentor us.
Rory and I follow her down the narrow hallway to another room that has a TV and a large couch. Mags presses the screen a few times until we can see District 1's reaping.
Both tributes are outstandingly good looking. The fat cats call Lacy an exquisite gem. It is easy to see why. She is beautiful.
Dazzle, the male tribute, is like his name; dazzling.
"Both of them will use their looks to get sponsors," Mags informs us softly and I tilt my head to the side to face her. I don't think Mags remembers me. I don't blame her. She did barely see me and back then I was just a snivelling, snot-nosed brat.
"So, can Athena use hers?" Rory asks curiously and I instinctively scoff loudly. This catches all of their attention as all of their eyes flicker to stare at me.
"I'd sooner throw myself into a pool of piranharks," I say angrily.
Mags opens her mouth but soon clamps her lips together. She looks like she wants to say something and finally she does, "Athena, your looks could save you in the arena."
Looks don't save people but, I guess they can earn me some perverted sponsors. However, I don't want perverted sponsors looking at me the same way Lorcan and Declan do.
"I'd rather die as myself than as someone else they made me," I diplomatically respond. I don't want to offend my other mentor, who does parade himself around for the fat cats. I need his help and the fat cats would devour me like piranharks if I offend their golden boy.
Wait.
Realisation sinks in and I finally understand Helena's attitude. She thinks I am a threat. She thinks that I might be interested in Finnick.
I swivel around and glare fiercely at Finnick. "You are going to get me killed," I hiss angrily at him. Finnick has to the audacity to look confused. Confused? Look what happened to Mikayla Marine for goodness sake! Has he not connected the dots? Trees do not fall on people accidentally in the arena.
"All of your stupid admirers will want me to dead! Look at Helena, my own bloody escort for the games hates me because of you!" I snarl angrily at him.
Finnick's eyes go wide as realisation sinks into him.
I turn my back to him only to face Rory. "Don't worry," he says in an attempt to reassure me. "I can tell them in my interview that you think Finnick is ugly."
"Yes but then I have offended their golden boy and two trees will fall on me," I exclaim exasperatedly.
Helena suddenly bursts into the room.
"Hold on, hold on, hold on!" She exclaims breathlessly. Her sudden happy mood is both strange and infuriating to me; more the latter because of how rude she has been.
"You aren't interested in Finnick at all?" Helena asks.
"No!" I exclaim exasperatedly. "I'm going to an arena to fight or die, I don't particularly give two shits about Odair other than his advice on how to survive!"
Helena squeals and claps her hands together like an excited child. "I don't understand how you can resist his good looks but I love you all the more because of that," Helena exclaims.
"Good looks don't necessary denote a good person," I respond annoyed and I cross my arms. Helena nods excitedly at my response making her red hair bounce around her painted face. She is just glad that I am not interested in Finnick, the stupid cow.
Helena then proceeds to gush over my features, "Oh your eye colour is amazing, I wish I had the pair myself." Helena says some more compliments but I ignore her. She only spews more and more lies every time she parts her lips.
She doesn't like anything about me.
Next, we all watch District 2's reaping. I cannot help but marvel at the rowdy, enthusiastic crowd and I try to imagine my equally as eager dad amongst them all. My dad had once been reaped too but his brother volunteered and took his place. It peeved him off until as a peacekeeper he met my mum. My dad never spoke about his brother. He's probably dead.
The male tribute is monstrous. Sol is a 7ft tower of pure muscle and raw strength. He could easily snap me in half. He could crush Rory with a single step. Sol is the brute force I have to be wary off, but hopefully he just charges forward and trusts his raw strength. A smart and powerful brute like him would be freakishly formidable and unfair.
The District 2 female looks just as strong as Sol. Ivy has a lithe, athletic build. Her eyes are piercing and sharp like hawk eyes. She is obviously well-trained. When they called for volunteers her fierce gaze alone quietened every female. If someone had wanted to volunteer, I bet they quickly changed their mind. I will never forget her steel gaze.
District 3's tributes are geeky and gaunt but they are still formidable opponents. Everyone thinks of the victor Beetee when they think of District 3 now; he electrocuted the remaining tributes to win his game. Their gaunt and skinny frames make people forget their intelligence. I won't make that mistake. If there is water in the arena the District 3 tributes are going to be my first targets. I remember my dad telling the story of Beetee to Marcus before Marcus was taken away.
"Don't be too cocky and judge someone based on how they look. A clever opponent can deadly if he or she is underestimated," was the advice he told Marcus.
Next we are taken to another room to have lunch. The other districts haven't finished their reaping ceremonies yet.
We all sit around a nice table that has cutlery set out for us. To my surprise we even have servants to serve us.
For lunch we have three courses.
The first course is a seafood soup with District 4's signature seaweed bread. I only eat the bread. I'm a little iffy about the seafood soup because of my experience at the House. In the House's soup you find scales, fins, guts, eyes, and tails. The second course is roasted chicken, roast vegetables and gravy. Chicken is very expensive in our district so the main course is a treat. After the main course I am beyond full.
Rory shovels down all of the food from every course. I don't know where all that food is going.
Rory eagerly devoured my piece of cake after I informed him that I didn't like sweets.
Mags, Helena and Rory talk over lunch about small things like the weather, the food or the train. Helena tries to include me but I'm not really interested. Rory constantly tells jokes and manages to make both Helena and Mags laugh; Rory has that effect on people I've discovered. Helena babbled on about the splendour of the train for awhile and she seemed quite to be upset at me for not picking up every glamorous detail.
I want to tell her that I do pay attention to detail but I decide not to because she is partly right.
I didn't notice that the train walls are covered by a creamy white wallpaper. I didn't notice that train room has a marble floor. I didn't notice the intricate floral design on the plates. I didn't notice that the light that looks like the light in the District Hall room. Helena had to point out every detail to me. However, I did notice some details about the people in the room.
Finnick shies away from any attention and tries to shift the attention onto others. In fact, Finnick seems uncomfortable with Helena's advances. Mags's posture becomes stiff whenever Helena leans towards her. Whenever Helena tries to bring Finnick into the conversation, Mags tries to help him escape Helena's attention. Helena's gaze constantly flickers to Finnick. Rory always speaks over Helena if she is being overly critical of something or someone.
My dad always told me to study my environment first, but these people have captured my attention. Mags and Finnick are an interesting pair. Both of them look like they are close.
After lunch Mags and Finnick decide to give us both advice for the arena. Mags and Finnick move our little meeting to a u-shaped sofa by the train's back window. Outside the window you can see parts of the fuelling station and Mags informs us that they are topping the train's fuel tanks.
"I don't feel well," Rory complains while our escort and mentors chat between themselves.
"You shouldn't have been a pig," I respond and I can't help but smile at his misery. It'll teach him.
"I think I'm going to puke," Rory whines, he groans and clutches his stomach.
A brilliant idea blossoms in my mind and I quickly tell him it, "Aim it at Helena."
Rory laughs a little before his laughter dissolves into a miserable groan. "Ow, laughter hurts," Rory whines.
"Rory, are you feeling okay?" Mags asks concerned.
"He wants Helena to sit by him," I inform Mags and Helena swiftly reacts by sitting next to him. Perfect. Mags stares suspiciously at me so I squash my smile and try to look concerned for Rory.
Come on guppy, I think, puke on her.
Helena and Finnick talk about the importance of sponsors. Helena even creates a list and we have to try and tick off some of her requirements. The guppy can nearly tick off all of her requirements but I certainly can't.
Be friendly? Ha, fat chance in hell. I don't think I can string a single nice thing together to say to a fat cat.
Be flirty? What a joke. I literally hate them all and I can't lie to save myself.
Be funny? Do fat cats like jokes about them? I bet not.
Be polite? Why would I be polite to the people excited about my death?
Make an impression? How? Juggle knives or something?
That is only a small part of Helena's list. I know I'm not getting a single sponsor.
"We were thinking that you should use your charm, friendliness and humour to your advantage Rory," Mags tells Rory and I agree with them. Rory has the ability to win people over and he should definitely use that to his advantage. Who knows, he might get a trident like Finnick did.
"But I'm only twelve. Do they sponsor twelve years old boys?" Rory replies sounding a little unsure.
Helena grabs both of his hands and shakes them excitedly. She elatedly exclaims, "Well, of course Rory! In fact, one year one boy your age had a lot of sponsors because he was handsome and kind."
"Really?" Rory asks. I guess Helena isn't too bad. She has managed to brighten Rory up.
"Oh yes, it was sad that he died but his death was glorious!" Helena excitedly informs Rory. I take it back, she is still a horrible person. How could anyone's death be glorious?
"Which game and how did he die?" Rory asks Helena hesitantly.
Helena quickly answers him, "The 62nd Hunger Games, I think. Oh, yes and he was from District 4 too and-"
My entire body freezes.
I was eight years old. Blocked out by the buildings that fenced the District Square in, I watched the reaping on the left TV screen. The atmosphere was so thick with fear that it was suffocating. Women were crying and men were barely holding their seams together. I was so terrified that I couldn't move a single muscle. My gaze was glued to the screen.
"Marcus Quartzite," Rosella Diamond's high pitched voice called. Other people had collectively released a sigh of relief; their loved ones were safe but my brother wasn't safe. It had felt like a huge wave had crashed into me and dragged me beneath the undertow. I couldn't breathe. I was drowning in despair.
Marcus, she is talking about Marcus.
Suddenly my ears can hear the words Helena speaks as my mind returns to the present. "Oh my goodness when she ripped out-"
"Shut up!" I snap angrily.
"His death was glorious."
The word glorious is repeated over and over again in my mind and the word taunts me, but the pain I feel is much worse. I can't breathe, her words are suffocating.
"Oh, yes his death was a bit vivid and I shouldn't tell you," Helena says before adding breathlessly, "But Rory it was glorious and exciting. The type of moment that keeps you on your toes. I couldn't tear my eyes away from the screen."
"Glorious and exciting."
The rage within me, the rage I can usually bottle in, suddenly bursts. The rage feeds off my grief and grows and grows until it is monstrous inside of me. My nails are daggers piercing my palms and my knuckles can nearly burst out of my skin.
"Athena, are you okay?" Mags asks me softly.
Oh no, I'm not okay. I want to kill her.
But I can't, the rational side of myself tries to tell me.
However, it is too late for rationality to tame my rage.
I need to get out. I need to get out now.
"No, no it's not. I need you to take me to my room and I need you to take me now," I reply.
"But Athena-"
"Stop talking to me, I don't want to talk to you and I don't want you to say my name ever again," my seething rage can be heard in my sharp tone. I want to rip out her tongue so she can never say the words glorious and exciting ever again.
Mags quickly stands and tells me, "I can take you to your room now."
Mags understands the urgency. I nod stiffly and stand to follow her but Helena's words stop me in my tracks.
"You didn't like that moment in the 62nd Hunger Games? It was everyone's second favourite moment," Helena says, sounding surprised.
It is like she wants me to strangle her.
"What was glorious about it?" I ask her angrily and I swivel around to face her. Finnick seems to notice the dramatic shift in the room because he moves into a defensive position. Good. At least if I can't hit her, I can hit him.
"Oh, she just ripped out his eyes just like that," Helena responds, she even repeats the motions with a grin on her face. I want to rip the grin off. Her words only make me angrier. My heart pumps rage instead of blood. How would if the same thing happened to someone she loved? I want to know. I need to know.
"Do you have any siblings?" I ask her.
Helena looks confused but she answers my question, "Yes, I have a younger brother."
"Oh, he is your age Rory, my dad remarried and had another child, I wasn't happy at first but," Helena begins to bumble happily and interrupt her by asking, "Do you love your brother?"
I don't give two shits about her life story.
"Yes, of course I do Athena. He is the light of my life. He is very bubbly and very mischief," Helena responds, she is still oblivious to my intent.
"How would you feel if someone ripped out his eyes and split his skull? Would it be glorious and exciting?" I ask angrily. My entire body trembles and I don't know whether the cause is my anger or my sadness.
Helena's smile falls and she shrieks, "Of course not, that would be monstrous and horrible!"
"No, no it wouldn't. It would be glorious and exciting," I hiss angrily at her.
Helena bursts into tears and shrieks, "Don't be so horrid Athena."
"Imagine if that was your brother and someone called his death glorious and exciting. I'm not horrid, you are," I snap at her.
Helena's eyes go wide and she covers her mouth. For a moment I think she is going to apologize, but her next words infuriate me, "But it's different."
"How?" My voice crumbles when I ask her.
"The districts did this to themselves," Helena answers.
I feel sick to the core.
"So the answer is to kill children and watch with a laugh. Thank you for clarifying everything for me," I reply stiffly.
I quickly escape from the room. Mags rushes ahead of me and Rory joins my side. I don't know where she is leading me. I don't really care. I don't see walls, windows or floors; I see Marcus's smiling face in my mind.
I don't know whether I am angry or sad.
Marcus… Do they all find his death glorious?
"Athena, are you okay?" Rory asks me softly.
"Yes," I lie.
"But you are crying," Rory replies.
I reach up to feel my face. My cheeks are soaked. I didn't even realise I started crying.
"I think she was wrong. I think his death was sad and horrible," Rory says softly before adding, "Don't listen to her Athena! She thinks she looks pretty with the white powder on her face."
I suppose he tried to make me laugh, but everything is too painful to laugh. Mags leads us both into a room that has a large bed in it.
"Athena," Mags whispers my name but silence only answers her.
"Was… Was he your friend?" Rory tentatively asks me.
"Just go away," I reply.
I move away from both of them and sink onto the bed. The weight of everything is just too heavy for me to carry.
I hear the door close as Rory and Mags leave my room.
I can release my tears unashamedly. I hate crying in front of others. I hate it! I hate that she managed to make me cry.
I'm fifteen, I'm not twelve anymore. I shouldn't be crying!
I like to relieve my emotions in training but Helena managed to break me.
Her comments managed to break me. She hit a nerve and my tears have just gushed out.
Helena didn't know Marcus. She didn't know him at all but yet she thinks he deserve to die the way he did.
How can she call him kind one second and then say he deserved to die brutally the next second?
Marcus hated fighting and he hated hurting anyone. Marcus used to lead me away from training and take me to the beach.
"Why fight when we can play," he would always say. Dad and Marcus would always clash over that. Dad believed in learning defence and Marcus called the training learning how to murder.
Marcus and I used to run up and down the beach when Marcus decided that we should ditch training. My hair would fly behind me like a cape and his would spring up and down. Our laughter would merge together and overpower the sound of squawking seagulls. We'd just play tag instead of worrying about executing a move right.
"You can't catch me little guppy," he would always say. I'd stop and stamp my feet when he called me guppy. My height had been a sore point.
"I'm not small," I would complain.
Marcus would stop running from me even though a sane person would continue to run away. He would stride towards me and place his hands on my shoulders. I hated having to look up at him because it reminded me of my height, but I would and I would glare.
"Being small doesn't make you less of a person Athie. Awesome people come in all sorts of shapes and sizes," Marcus would gently explain to me.
He didn't deserve to die that way. He was too nice and too kind for the brutality of the Hunger Games.
I try to ignore the ache within my chest but Marcus's death still stings. The wound has never healed and the fat cats always manage to pour salt over the wound. Enobaria Steele's face could give me enough strength to rip this train apart. Every breath she takes and every smile she makes only rakes my wound with salt covered nails. The sting scorches me but also ignites the fiery rage lying dormant inside me.
The bloodthirsty and excited look in her eyes I will never forget. My rage will never be satiated unless I can gouge her pretty pair of dark, brown eyes out of her skull. Until I can hold her eyes in my hands and let a victorious war cry leap out of my mouth.
Glorious?
Exciting?
He deserved it because he was born into a district?
I can't believe that people can think like that.
Did they all cheer and laugh at his death?
He was a person. He was a child. He was a son. He was a brother.
Being born into a district didn't make him deserve to die the way he did.
How could someone think that way?
Rory has been introduced. His character hasn't been thoroughly picked apart yet because Athena has only been able to pick up certain things about him. I purposely did a parallel between Rory and Athena's brother so that she will feel a connection to him. The tension between Helena and Athena is important as well. Helena is Athena's first taste of how a Capitol person thinks. The attitude of the Capitol becomes vividly clear to Athena in this 'chapter'.
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