Sweat dripped from my face and down my back, my chest heaving as I crashed through the forest ground. I didn't know where I was going and had lost all sense of direction in the green overgrowth that tore at my clothes. Shrieks of laughter and nasty calls followed after me, drawing closer no matter how fast I ran. The ground suddenly sloped upwards and I stumbled, falling to my hands and knees.
"There are other ways of repressing the problem you have caused."
"What are you going to do then? Kill me?"
Fragments of my conversation with the faux President Snow descended on me as I scrambled to my feet and began pushing my way up the slope. I could hear the branches behind me breaking with their pursuit. An arrow whistled through the air and lodged itself into a tree my hand had been grasping just seconds before. They were getting closer. My limbs began to tremble, but I couldn't stop now. I had to run. I had to survive.
Covering my face I broke through a wall of twisting vines and brambles and found myself in a small clearing, facing a towering rock wall. There was no way around it, no way to flee to the sides. The others blocked the way behind me and were quickly closing in. I could hear their feet breaking through and their taunting laughter.
"I know of your brother." The words lashed out like whips. "If anything goes wrong I will have something very special planned for his death."
There was an awful whistling that drew goose bumps along my flesh and I felt my cheek flare as a black knife sliced past it. My drumming pulse tripled and I grasp at a face slick with hot blood just as another knife flies from the cover of trees and hits me in the shoulder. I collapse, an agonizing cry breaking from my lips when an arrow lands in my collarbone. The stone wall burns at my back and I watch the figures of my hunters draw away from the forest shadows. Justin is at their head with a long sword drawn and a cruel smile stretching his face grotesquely. I flinch away at the sight of him. This wasn't my brother.
The others stopped just a few feet away, but Justin continued forward until he was standing directly above me. His eyes glittered dangerously and he raised the sword, positioning it so that it pointed towards my heart. I am rendered motionless by the knife in my shoulder and the arrow in my collarbone, but I reach towards him with one final gasp.
"Justin."
My brother smiles and speaks with the faux President Snow's voice. "Do not attempt anything."
He trusts the sword down and I feel the cold steel burry itself deep inside my chest. It was like fire and ice all at once with blood spurting up around the blade. I screamed.
My eyes snap open and I roll forward with a strangled gasp, inflating my dead lungs with precious air. Coughing and inhaling at the same time, I wondered how long I had gone without breathing. I could still feel the sword sitting in my chest, the terror of my dream clinging to me like the sweat on my face. Looking around, I desperately focused on what was real in order to clear my head, but it only made things worse.
I was lying on the bed in district 12's bedroom, the sweat soaked sheets covering a body that was only clothed in undergarments. The room was dark except for a band of yellow light that leaked in from the crack beneath the door. Terror still gripped me and I tore away from the sheets, moving around the room as if I could run from my nightmare. A digital clock next to the door read 3:30pm, but I was sure it had been late evening when I had seen the faux President Snow. I pressed a hand to my head, trying to break through the fog that made it impossible to think.
The door burst open before I could make any progress and someone flipped the lights on, effectively blinding me.
"At last you are awake!" trilled a delighted voice. Prema. "Come now, Dearie. Enough of this standing around. It's time we prepare you for the interviews!"
Soft hands guided me to the showers and I am unceremoniously washed as if I were an animal. The steaming water had barely washed away the sweat from my body when they dragged me out and dried me vigorously. By now my eyes had adjusted to the light and I watched Prema glide around me as her two stylists dried my hair. Her painted face was drawn into an exuberant smile, revealing every polished tooth contained within. The two men briskly removed the cover of towels and Prema stepped forward to draw my chin gently up with both of her manicured hands.
"Oh you clever, clever girl." she sighs, clearly happy. "You shall be my best work yet and you deserve nothing less. A thirteen." she enthused and her men responded with excited squeals. I couldn't help but be reminded of piglets when they did that. "You have the entire Capitol buzzing and just think of what they'll be saying about you after tonight."
"Thirteen?" I questioned uncertainly.
Prema nodded, her smile growing wider until I thought her face was going to split in two. "You're evaluation scores of course." she told me. "Why didn't you tell us that you would be so good, Dearie? Emmet certainly should have known. Although," she paused as an afterthought struck her. "It was rather priceless, the look on his face when they revealed the scores."
"But I don't remember them revealing the scores." I protested, feeling the blood drain from my face. "And isn't a thirteen impossible?"
They had given me a thirteen. A score that was higher than any number ever given. It was an impressive score and meant a terrible, ugly death. Now all the Careers will be hunting me down as their first victim which was no doubt exactly what the faux President Snow wanted. I felt like I was going to be sick.
"Well, clearly it's not." replied Prema, sounding miffed that I hadn't reacted to her compliments. "Of course you weren't there for the reveal. You were unconscious when they brought you back up. They said that you had been tragically hit by two arrows on your way out, fired from malfunctioning automatic bows or something of the sort. I wasn't really paying attention."
With the slightest press of her hands, she sat me down in a waiting chair brought up by the men and went to work. I crossed my legs uncomfortably, hiding my chest with my arms as she did my makeup and the stylists curled my hair. When they had finished, Prema stood me up in front of a full length mirror while the two men retrieved the dress I would wear. She stood behind me, her wide smile still in place as she pointed out two white scars standing out against my skin. A long one sat along the corner of my left shoulder and the other traced along my collarbone, the exact locations of where I had been hit in my dream.
"There you are." she said breathlessly. "Proof of your bravery or at least that's how we will spin it. Don't worry, Dearie. Emmet has already spread the word of how strong you are."
"Brilliant." I murmured, knowing the reality of the scars. "Just brilliant."
They dressed me in a dark red and black gown whose edges had been artistically burned in areas so that it resembled a glowing ember. My shoulders and back were fully exposed to reveal the scars and my skin was coated lightly with a shimmering, black dust. Stepping into the short heals they provided, I faced the mirror and stared at the dark image of who I was. It scared me to look at myself, my eyes burning bright beneath the striking black and red eye shadow and my hair pulled up from my pale face. I looked stunning and deadly and completely terrified.
"You'll be my best work yet." Prema repeated with a contented sigh.
With a beckoning hand, she led me from the room as her stylists cleaned up and brought me to the waiting elevators. Emmet and Ronen were there already, the orange man standing off to the side with a flute of champagne. It made me sick to see the sweet liquid, the simple drink bringing up the memories of my recent encounter with the faux President Snow.
"Scowling again I see." commented Emmet when we reached them. "For once it actually works, but perhaps you should tone it down a touch. Charm and smiles are the quickest way to a Sponsor's heart." He sighed heavily, a frustrated expression furrowing his brow. "Very well. Keep the scowl. You'll just have to impress them with your score. Shall we?"
He offered an arm to me as the elevator doors opened and I grudgingly accepted, grateful for the support since my knees had begun to tremble. The ride down was over swiftly and the doors opened on an empty hallway as Emmet released me to take Prema's arm instead. We followed the short hall to a large room decorated with plush couches and wide screen TVs that broadcasted The Hunger Game interviews. Every other tribute had already arrived and were either sitting down or milling about the room with anxious energy. The Captured were gathered on the far side of the room, they're whispered conversations falling short when we had entered.
"Remember to smile, Sweetie." instructed Emmet before leaving the room with Prema and the orange man. "Make them think you're their best friend, that they have your special attention. Make them love you. And Ronen? Become their next fascination. Don't let them forget your name."
They left and the great doors to the room closed behind them, locking us in. I could feel the eyes of every tribute in the room burning ragged holes into my side. It was obvious that they were all thinking about my evaluation scores and I knew that I had become their number one target.
"You look terrifying." Ronen remarked at my side and then as an after thought. "And beautiful."
"I feel sick." I replied softly.
"Don't worry about it. You're the one who got a thirteen." He sounded resentful.
Keeping my eyes forward I left Ronen's side and made my way to the back, refusing to look directly into any of the other's faces. I was careful not to look for Justin, afraid to see that he was no longer my brother and that the nightmare had come true. He could still be acting like one of the Careers, but lately I've found it difficult to believe that it was only an act. We hadn't contacted each other with more than a look here and there, the separation slowly weighing down on me.
Cheers burst forth from the screens as Ceaser Flickerman walked on stage, blowing kisses to the crowd and taking sweeping bows. The interviews were about to begin. Soon the first name was called. Engle Arons. A tall boy stood up, smoothing a hand over fiery red hair and winking at a Career girl he had been lounging with. Silence settled over us once more when he left and I turned my back on the room, focusing on the wall in front of me as I tried to breathe.
"So that's it then?" asked a harsh voice from behind. "You're just going to walk away and forget that the last three days ever happened?"
Clenching my fists I faced Clayton who had come up with the rest of the Captured and now closed me in against the wall. Each of them stared at me as if I had betrayed them. It was immediately apparent that Clayton was the most furious out of all of them and was the one leading the confrontation. He glared at me with his arms crossed over his chest and I couldn't help feeling myself growing aggravated.
"Well?" he questioned nastily. "Aren't you going to say something? Aren't you going to give us a speech about hope and sticking together? Or is it that the great Emma Price is too good for us now?"
I scowled. "What is this about Clayton?"
"You know exactly what this is about, Price." He spat my name as if it were a curse. "This is about how you played the valiant little leader all the way up to where you screwed me and everyone else over." Clayton took a step forward until we were only inches apart. I could feel the tension between us, the energy building up so that it was almost tangible. "But that was the plan, wasn't it?"
"Step back." I growled, shoving him away from me. "You don't know what you're even talking about."
Clayton pushed me against the wall, continuing as if he didn't hear me. "You fed us all your perfect lies while planning to get the highest score in end, right? A thirteen. You must be proud. I mean it makes sense, doesn't it? You get top spot and the rest of us get left at the bottom to be easily killed off."
Something inside me snapped and before I realized what had happened I had Clayton pressed against the wall with his arm twisted behind his back. My forearm dug into his neck and my knee held his lower half in place. We were beginning to attract the Careers' attention, but Clayton didn't care. Neither did I.
He chuckled harshly, rotating his head to the side. "Oh! Not so nice, are we? Not when the truth comes out."
"Do you really think I want this score?" I hissed. "I'm dead because of that score, Clayton. When we're out there and the Careers start hunting, I'll be the first on their list."
"For an alliance maybe, but not to be killed. Oh no! You left that spot for us!"
A supervisor was fighting their way through the gathered crowd now, flanked on both sides by two guards. "Tributes should be reminded that inner conflicts are not allowed until the Games-" He began tittering anxiously.
"Shut up." Clayton and I snarled, cutting him off before returning our attentions back to each other.
"Face it, Price." said Clayton bitingly. "You might have started out like the rest of us, but now you're no better than they are. So the question is, who are you going to kill first?"
You could have heard a pin drop and I looked up to finally meet the faces of everyone around me. The Captured looked like they did on the first day, terrified, alone and without someone to lead them. Everything we had worked for had fallen apart so quickly and I didn't have to wonder long before I realized how this happened. The faux President Snow. He did this. He had turned them all against me just within one night. So this was how he fixed the little problem I had caused in his plan. Of course.
The interviews continued to play in the background, but it was just white noise to me now. Realizing how hard I was restraining Clayton I abruptly let go of him and backed away. I didn't have to push through the others, both the Captured and Careers parting as I passed.
"You told us to play it safe, Price." Clayton called after me. "We listened to you and you screwed us all over!"
I began to shake, feeling as if I were going to collapse at any moment. Ronen stood in the very back, a look of concern in his dark eyes. He stopped me with a hand to the elbow and I almost fell right then and there.
"What did he mean 'like the rest of us'?" Ronen asked softly. "Emma, what's going on?"
"Emma Price, please prepare to go on stage." announced the supervisor, nervously wiping his brow with a handkerchief.
"Nothing." I told Ronen darkly. "It means nothing."
Shaking off his hand, the four guards brought me to the doors that would lead to the stage and I allowed myself to be guided through, leaving the hostile room behind. The sounds of the roaring crowd met me before I reached the stage and I stepped out into the blinding lights as Ceaser Flickerman announced my name. Emma Price, the female tribute from District 12.