Okay, I'm a day late on the update. I'm sorry! But I didn't have time yesterday. I'll be faster next time.

Chapter 4

All to soon, we are going through the dark tunnel that leads to the Capitol. I stand by the window, staring at the rock wall that flies by in an instant. I think about the Capitol- its luxuries and its brutalities. I wonder, for a moment, what the Games must be like in most of the other Districts, where being reaped is practically a death sentence, where the people starve, where the mentors can barely mentor, where the thought of the Games induces fear, not joy.

Where the Games are the worst.

I push the thought out of my head. I can't think about the way the Games are seen from other Districts' perspective. Right now, I need to think about the Capitol audience, and how to charm them. Right as that thought enters my mind, we come out of the tunnel, and the Capitol comes into view.

It's funny, but I always thought of the Capitol as a larger, slightly grander version of District 1. But as I look out at the Capitol, I realize the truth. My District couldn't hold a candle to this. The Capitol is second to none.

The early morning sun rising over the Capitol lights up the city. Colossal buildings, spotlessly white, rise from the ground. People bustle through the wide, clean streets. Huge estates dominate the surrounding area.

Soon, the train is in the city, and the citizens point and stare as the train rolls into the station. The train doors open onto the enormous train station.

We- and by 'we' I mean Marvel and I- are whisked away by a small group of Avoxes, who pile us into a spacious vehicle. Within minutes, we arrive the Remake Centre. Cashmere and Gloss arrive seconds later in a similar vehicle, and they escort us to the Remake Centre.

I am placed in a small room, filled with buttons and machines. I am left with instructions to take off my clothes and put on the robe sitting on the table in the centre of the room, which I presume is for me to sit or lie on. Seconds after I'm finished changing, one of he rooms two doors opens, and a young woman is shoved in by someone outside the room.

"Get inside, and get to work!" roars a masculine voice from outside. "Prove your worth!"

The woman turns around, nods, and closes the door. Then she looks at me, and I see her clearly for the first time.

Her most striking feature is her skin, which is dyed a bright, vivid pink. Then her hair, which is a deep purple shade, and falls in silky waves down her back.

But the strangest thing about her is the ways she is. Her dark brown eyes are filled with tears. Her skin is pinker on her cheeks. She is fearfully chewing her bright red lower lip.

"What's wrong?" I ask. She cowers at my words, as if they slapped her.

"Hello." When she finally speaks, I see her voice is timid, like the rest of her. "I c-came to s-see what you need done f-from us. N-not much. Y-you are very p-pretty."

"Thank you." I say, and her lips curve up the slightest bit. I wonder what is wrong with her. Her stutter, her timidity. "What is your name?" I inquire.

"Arina."

"I see."

Then I notice something that brings me to the edge. "Arina." I say, barely keeping my voice level. She flinches. "Turn the back of your right forearm towards me."

She does. She looks surprised, but I barely notice.

A huge, purple bruise spread down her arm. It is a very dark shade, and there must have been a tremendous amount of force to cause that. I know from experience. I've had bruises like that.

But on her? On someone from the Capitol? What could have possibly happened to her?

"Arina." I say, shocked. "What the hell happened to you?"

She looks at her arm, perplexed, then, realizing what I saw, begins to cry. "I-I…" She can't speak anymore.

I jump off the table, walk over to her, and put my arm around her. She begins to speak in a shaky voice.

"M-my h-husband b-b-beats m-me."

"What?" I gasp. But before I can utter another word, the door flies open.

"ARINA!" An angry looking man opens the door. His pink hair would make him look harmless, but his rage is unmistakable. "I told you what to do and you didn't do it. There's no excuse for that"

She hurries towards him, quickly wiping her eyes dry. She speaks to him quickly. He nods, and they both leave, leaving me worried for Arina and angry at that man.

Three hours, one more prep team member, countless perfecting treatments, and a makeup job later, they leave me with instructions to stay there and wait for my stylist. I wait, swinging my legs and tapping my fingers, for about five minutes. Then whom I assume is my stylist opens the door and comes in.

He looks to be in his early 30s or late 20s, tall and muscular. His dark blue hair appears subtle, compared to the outrageous styles I've seen. His skin is a strange olive shade.

"Lovely to meet you, miss." he says in deep, silky voice. Then he looks me up and down in a way that would probably be uncomfortable in another situation, considering I'm not wearing anything, but somehow it's not. "Come with me, please. And you can put on your robe."

Then he leads me through the other door in the room, one I have never seen opened. It is a sitting room, with a view of the Capitol through floor-to-ceiling windows on the far wall, and a seating area in the middle- two couches facing each other with a small table in between.

"Please, sit."

I do, and as I make myself comfortable, he presses a button on the side of the table, and he takes a seat across from me as our meal rises from within.

"So, Glimmer. My name is Cicero and I will be your stylist. Let's cut to the chase. You are from District 1, so we will do a costume that reflects the purpose of your District, which, in your case, is luxuries. So you will be the luxuries."

Hours later, I am ready. I am spray-painted silver, then dressed in a silver tunic with jewels. It is stunning.

We go down to the bottom floor of the Remake Centre, which is basically a stable. Our chariot is silver, with pure white horses. Soon, we will be paraded through the streets of the Capitol. This is my first real chance to get sponsors.

Cicero and Marvel's stylist, a woman named Violenta who seems to be entirely purple- from hair to skin to clothes- arrange us in the chariot. We are dressed similarly, but my outfit is more feminine, obviously.

Soon, the great doors creak open, and we are out in the street. Capitol citizens cheer from all sides, with cries of "Glimmer!" "Marvel!" "District 1!"

Then the District 2 chariot comes out, but the cries of our names barely diminish.

But then, suddenly, there is a great silence, and the a burst of "Katniss!" "Peeta!" and "District 12!"

District 12?

I turn around, and there is the District 12 chariot. And the tributes… are ON FIRE.

Only one thought is in my head as I stare at the fire- engulfed Katniss Everdeen. Two words.

That. Bitch.

When we all arrive in the city circle, and President Snow starts talking, I allow my mind to wander. I think of the Arena, which makes me think of the other tributes, which makes me think of Fire Girl. She totally stole the show and the spotlight. Even now, as Snow is talking, the cameras keep cutting to the fiery District 12 pair. It fills me with rage to think of all the sponsors and attention they will get. Which takes away some of my chance of survival. How can I get sponsors with her in the way? I don't know. It makes me both angry and worried, for the first time since the reaping.

I don't realize Snow has stopped talking, until I feel a swift jerk on the chariot and I realize we are moving. The anthem plays, and we do one final loop around the city circle before disappearing into the Training Centre.

When we have stopped, the prep teams and stylists surround us, as we get off the chariot. I shoot District 12 a dirty look. They deserve it. They literally outshone everyone else, including the usually most popular District 1. She outshone me.

She is so dead.