I awake to a slight knock on my door.
"Today's training!" the Capitol woman says from outside the door. "Up, up, up!"
My eyes widen at the strange voice, but I then remember that I'm in the Capitol. Then I remember I'm going to the games. My heart sinks but I pull myself out of bed and shower. I slip on the "training outfit", as Capitol people call it, and head out of my room and down the hallway. I sit down at the table where Mike, his stylist, Oliver, and the Capitol woman are eating waffles. I sigh and look at all the food around me. My stomach lurches, and I know that if I eat anything it won't stay down for long.
What will training be like? Will I actually have to stab someone, or will it be dummies? Will I have to throw a knife into someone's heart, or will it be a target? I take a glass of water and quickly jug all of it down. I put it down and breathe slowly.
"You okay?" Mike asks.
I nod slightly, but I don't feel okay at all. I feel sick.
"You don't look okay," he says. He's sitting right next to me, so he reaches his hand over and touches my forehead. He quickly pulls it away.
"You're forehead is burning hot!" he exclaims. "Oliver? Can she skip training today? I think she's sick."
"I don't need to skip anything," I try to snap, but it comes out more of a croak.
"She can't skip training," Oliver says. "It's a rule."
"I'm fine," I croak out. A glass of water is placed in front of me and I quickly gulp it all down. I breathe in slowly again. I know I'm not sick; I'm just worried. I smile slightly at Mike to show him that I'm fine, but by the look on his face I know he doesn't believe me.
"When does training start?" I ask, my voice coming out in a half-croak.
"In a few minutes," Oliver says, looking at his wrist-watch.
I lean back in my chair and nibble on a piece of toast to make it look like I'm fine. I'm feeling better, anyway. But my stomach still feels like it will explode at any minute.
The Training Center is filled with multiple weapons. I barely listen as the Capitol woman is giving us our instructions. I know I won't hurt anyone; I don't think I can.
After the Capitol woman is done speaking, we all break out and head to whichever station we wish to go. I sort of just stand there and look around, unsure what weapon I want to use. I really don't want to use any weapon; I don't want to know how to kill.
As I look around the room, I breathe a sigh of relief. There aren't real people, only dummies and targets. I slowly head over to the knife station. I'm the only one here so I shrug and pick up a knife. The targets come to life and one quickly lights up and turns toward me. I aimlessly throw the knife, and it doesn't even hit the target. Instead it flies past the dummy and buries itself into the wall. I look around, hoping nobody saw my failed attempt, and I see that nearly everybody did. There's some snickers behind me, and I try my best to ignore them. I pick up another knife and another target comes to life. I arch my back and yank my arm forward. The knife flies out of my hand and hits the dummy in the head. It didn't hit the center at all, but at least it hit the target. I hear a few more snickers behind me, but I ignore them.
I continue throwing knives, and eventually I hit the center target. After hitting the center, I throw a few more knives and hit the center again. Then, as I have my last knife in hand, the target turns into a human. But not just any human; Beth. She's blinking at me with fear in her eyes. I stumble backward from seeing her. I can't get my footing right and I fall to the ground. My head rams against the hard flooring, and I hear gasps behind me. My ears buzz and everything's spinning. I hear muffled voices all around me, and I make out a few words.
"Is she alright?" someone asks.
"What happened?" another asks.
My hand suddenly has a burst of pain and I gasp and look over at it. The knife I had been holding had gone straight through my hand when I'd fallen. Blood pours out and I hear someone asking me if I can stand. But I can't answer; my mouth won't open. I finally get it to open but all that comes out is a moan. My hand hurts worse than any pain I've ever known. Even worse then when someone cut down a tree and it landed on my foot.
I feel something picking me up, but I barely notice it. I close my eyes and let the darkness take me.
My eyes open slowly. I'm laying on a bed in a white room. People with masks are all around me. I quickly shoot up. What if the games have started and these people are the enemies? I grab the nearest thing to my hand, which would be a syringe. I try to stab one of the doctors, but they grab my hand and pry the syringe away from me. I try to reach for it with my other hand, but I can't move it. The doctor straps down the hand I had held the syringe with so I can't move.
"It's okay," a doctor behind me says. "This all must be a shock to you. Just calm down; I'll explain in a few minutes."
I breathe heavily and I picture all the possibly things these doctors could be doing to me. They could be implanting something into me, they could be killing me, they could be doing anything they want to me and I couldn't do anything to stop it.
"You fell in the Training Center," a doctor explained. "You fell right on your knife. Luckily you didn't fall on it with your back, only your hand. We were able to sew it back up, but you can't use it for at least three weeks."
I look over at my hand, which is in a cast and is strapped down.
"We're here to help you, not to hurt you," the doctor says.
I look up at him and see his eyes are calm and soothing. I believe him.
"Okay," I whisper.
"Good," the doctor says, smiling. "Now, you've missed a day of training and we're wary of letting you out there again, but President Hutson insists."
I moan and lean my head back into the seat. I remember Beth being the target and how I almost threw my knife at her. I know that I had hallucinated her, but I also know that's what it's going to be like in the arena. I'm going to see a kid and I'm going to throw my knife at him or her, and I'm going to kill them. My stomach lurches and I quickly stop thinking about killing children.
"Now, are you sure you feel alright?" the doctor asks.
"Yeah," I say, though I know it's a lie.
"Alright; Mike is here to take you back to your room so you can rest a bit," the doctor says. "Tomorrow is your last day of training before you have the Private Training with the Gamemakers."
Only one more day until Private Training? I nod as the doctors unstrap my arms. They help me up and lead me outside. Waiting there is Mike, who is looking at me with concern.
"You okay?" he asks.
"I'm fine," I say, mad at him again for no reason.
"Alright; let's get you to your room," Mike says, taking the hand which is not in a cast. The doctors wave farewell and Mike leads me to my room. He pulls down my bed sheets for me and I crawl in. I don't like that he's tucking me in; it seems wrong, since I'll probably have to kill him in the arena.
"Goodnight," he says, pulling the blanket over me and turning off the light.
"Wait," I say, just as he's about to leave. He turns back to look at me. "Thanks. For everything."
"I just helped you get here," he says, grinning. "Goodnight, Seffie."
He closes the door and I breathe in the smell of the soft, clean sheets. I close my eyes and fall asleep.
Beth runs toward me, tears streaming down her face.
"You came home!" she exclaims, hugging me. "You came home!"
"I promised I would," I say, smiling and hugging her back. Beth suddenly lurches forward and gags. I pull her away from me and look at her. Blood runs out of her mouth and her eyes are large. She collapses to the ground, a knife sticking out of her back. Behind her is Mike, who is grinning evilly. He throws another knife and it hits me in the head.
I quickly sit up in bed, my bedsheets wet with sweat. I run to the bathroom and gulp down water, then quickly turn on the shower. I sit there for a few minutes, letting the water run down my face as I cry. The nightmare was so real, so horrible. Beth had died and it had been all my fault.
"It's not real," I whisper to myself. "It was only a nightmare."
But the worst part isn't that Beth had died. The worst part is that Mike had done it.