The young adult sat in front of his wall, elbow deep in black paint, he smiles with amusement before running his finger across the wall. Today was the day, he was going to finally finish the painting of his dog, Norman. It has taken him months to complete, only because he keeps being called to the Capital, he wished it was for his paintings but it wasn't, it was mainly for meet ups with women. He's starting to think he doesn't like women, sure, he thought about asking his ex girlfriend, Marie to marry him, but that is the past.
He used to paint with oil out of trains, the old men were more then happy to get rid of old oil as long as they got their buckets back. Oil, water, and dirt is how he did it, sure nothing came out very pretty and he usually had to throw it out after, but he found it worth it when it took his mind of the Hunger Games or his Capital duties. He was more than joyful when he was finally able to afford real paint, he doubts many victors paint their homes themselves. The thought makes him feel unique.
Slowly he stands up and wipes his hands off on his ripped jeans, today is reaping, his second chance of a death sentence, he almost lost in his first reaping. The memories send shivers down his spine, he simply shakes his head and walks outside, he was planning to walk around before he had to go to the District square. People say he isn't fit to be a victor, he is easily scared. It doesn't matter what the possibility is, he will be scared of it, he doesn't know why he's honestly scared of almost everything. It just happens. He's lucky he even has friends, he doesn't really like people anymore, not after he won the Hunger Games, girls just want him for his fortune.
The thought that scared him most is the possibility of being reaped once more, the Capital has already taken away his family and freedom, why should they also have his life? He would never be able to voice his opinion out loud, not if he wants to be prosecuted. He is terrified of death, especially because he doesn't know what happens after he dies.
He runs his hand through his long, straggly, black hair. He was exhausted from the long night of painting, it probably wouldn't take as long if it wasn't for the fact he doesn't own any paintbrushes. He wouldn't doubt he has black paint in his hair but he didn't really care, it only makes him feel closer to his paint, not really, he's just too lazy to wash his hair.
He is the youngest victor in their small line of chairs, he feels awkward every year just sitting in front of the crowd, he's only in his second year, he wonders if he'll every get used to it. Beside him is a female who doesn't look like she fully knows what is going on, there is no doubt in his mind she is on something. She never seems to fully be all there, and she is very mean if you're on her lawn.
The escort, Tyne, was like a monarch butterfly with her big extensions on the torso of her orange dress. She was very loud and high pitched as she spoke about the possibility of making your District proud for the second time, that still does not change his opinion of being reaped once more. It makes him want to throw up. The feeling got worse the closer she got to the reaping bowl, when she dunks her hand in, the dizziness kicks in. "Mingus James!" Hearing her announce his name, he throws up all over the stage causing a chorus of disgusted noises from the crowd. What a way to make your District proud.
Train Ride
Mingus never came out of the bathroom the whole way to the Capital, he has never felt so sick in his life, it is a very terrible feeling. Being reaped again that is. He never thought he would be reaped again, why couldn't it have been the woman next to him? She's doesn't seem to care about anything anyways!