Thank you, again, for reading my story, I'm loving writing it! The reviews have been really encouraging and I appreciate any feedback you may have!
I do not own The Hunger Games nor its characters.
Chapter Sixteen
I can't believe it's been a whole year since I was reaped. The worst year of my life has finally come full circle and now I'm preparing to meet the poor child who I'll be mentoring for this year's Games.
I sit in my living room with Titam, drinking hot tea because I'm still an alcohol-free zone, although I occasionally convince someone at The Hob to sell it to me if I offer them a ridiculous amount of money. I feel bad for exploiting their poverty but I just need whatever I can to get through the nights, so much so that I've started sleeping in the day rather than facing the dark.
"So how are you feeling about it all?" Titam asks.
"Not great. I don't want the responsibility of keeping someone alive."
Titam chuckles, "Well, just think, this year's tributes have got a much better chance than we did. They've got a mentor each!"
"No, Titam, they've got the worst odds possible! How likely do you think it is that a kid from 12 is going to win this year when I won last year?"
He doesn't say anything, he just drinks his tea because he knows I'm right. This time last year I was sitting around a wonky table in my old house with my family, enjoying a final meal there before I was whisked away to begin a new life. I still can't believe that was only a year ago.
"Titam, what happened to your family?" I've been wanting to ask him this for months but it's never felt appropriate for some reason.
"My parents got very sick a few winters after I won and there was nothing I could do for them so it's just been me ever since."
"And no wife?"
He shakes his head. "No, not that I didn't have the chance. It's just…well, you know what the nights are like."
I do know what the nights are like; they're filled with horrific memories mixed with things that never happened but feel just as real. Tilly and Maysilee have frequently turned in to blood thirsty mutts half way through a dream and caused me to wake up screaming, slashing my knife at the air. I can understand why Titam wouldn't want someone to see that.
"Come on, we'd better go," he says and finishes the rest of his tea.
We make the short walk to the square to find that Marsella is already waiting for us by the side of the stage. She's wearing a strange shaped silver dress with silver lipstick to match and an annoyed expression on her face.
"I've been waiting here for half an hour!" She shouts.
"Chill out, Marsella, they haven't finished lining up yet," I say, looking out to the square as the lines of unhappy children form. I look out at the pale faces and I desperately want to tell them what lies in store for two of them, I want to warn them of the horrors and what happens if you don't play Snow's game. But there's no point, whoever gets chosen is likely to die and I don't want to scare all of these children for no reason. They have enough to worry about.
Ten minutes later we're ushered to the stage and Mayor Clarkson reads out the usual spiel, only when he reads out the list of victors my name is added, which sends a chill down my spine. 'Victor' is an empty word, there is no feeling of glory or triumph, just loss.
Marsella squeals about how excited she is to be back in our district and wonders if we'll have two victors in a row this year. She hovers her finger around the girls' reaping bowl before pulling out one of the slips.
"Alba Morston!" She says in to the microphone and a brunette girl from the fifteen year old section walks on to the stage. I recognise her from the Seam but I've never spoken to her.
Marsella then picks out the boy tribute's name and says, "Robert Caid!" A scrawny boy of eighteen makes his way to the stage and you can hear his mother crying loudly from the sides. This was his last year of eligibility.
The tributes are herded in to the Justice Building whilst Titam and I head for the train station. We're shown to our rooms and mine seems to be even more extravagant than last year, if that's possible.
"If we're going to bring one of them home," Titam says as we sit down at the feast in the dining cart, "We need to keep each other in the loop, okay?"
I nod, although I can sense that he's not as confident about this whole situation as he wants me to believe. After all, it must be strange for him to have a fellow mentor at last.
"Can I have the girl?" I ask, "I don't feel comfortable mentoring someone older than me." She also looks like she has more of a chance, Robert has no muscle tone and just looks plain weak. Thankfully, Titam has no issue with this arrangement.
When they do arrive on the train with Marsella neither of them wants to talk and it's not until breakfast the next day that Alba finally seems ready to talk strategy.
"So what is it you're good at?" I ask.
"I'm quite fast but that's it. I've never killed anyone."
I have to laugh, her flippant reply is just a little too close to home. "Fair enough," I say, "Spend equal amounts of time at the weapons and survival stations in training, then. And how do you feel about being the strong and confident type?"
"I think I can pull it off."
"Great, we'll talk again in the Capitol." I leave the room with a small sense of hope, at least she seems like she wants to survive. Last year I condemned myself for no reason but, hopefully, she's going to fight to stay alive.
When we reach the Capitol Titam and I head towards our rooms on the twelfth floor whilst Alba and Robert undergo their transformations in the Remake Centre. Titam tells me that Robert is going to have to work really hard if he wants to survive, he really is as weak as he looks.
"It looks like Alba will be our best bet," he says grimly and I agree.
"Is this how you've done it each year? Supported the safe bet?"
"Unfortunately, yes. It at least gives you hope."
Before the Opening Ceremony begins Titam and I make our way to the Victors' Box, which is a viewing gallery in City Circle especially for us victors. There is, of course, plenty of food and drink to keep us entertained as we watch our tributes enter on their chariots, however, not everyone is mentoring this year and it's easy to see that they're a lot more relaxed than those of us that are.
I find myself talking to Chaff, a man in his early twenties from 11 who won about five years ago. He lost his hand in the arena but refused to have a prosthetic so his arm now ends in a stump.
"So how have you found your first year?" He asks.
"Awful. I just wish I could get my hands on some booze more often, Titam seems to be keeping me on a leash!"
Chaff snorts and says, "Stick with me, I'll sort you out."
Before long the tributes are entering the City Circle and, unsurprisingly, Alba and Robert look pitiful in their ridiculous coal miner outfits. Elerrah and her team really aren't doing us any favours.
The next day is the first day of training and, although Titam is going to try his best with Robert we've basically agreed to focus our efforts on Alba so I make sure to talk to her before she goes in to training.
"How do you feel about alliances?" I ask, trying not to think about Maysilee as I do so.
"Well, it helped you last year. But I don't know if I can stand any of them for long."
"It won't be for long, though. See if there's anyone worth allying with and work on that as well the stations, okay?"
She nods and I send her away before I meet Titam on the bottom floor to meet with potential sponsors. There's a special room designed for mentors to meet with rich Capitolites who may want to sponsor one of the tributes. It's a huge room, outlined with tables of food and drink and even has a band playing soft music to create a relaxing atmosphere. Screens are mounted on the walls with pictures of the tributes and Titam tells me that when the Games begin they will also be broadcast on the screens so sponsors can make up to date decisions. There's only a few strange looking people from the Capitol here but Titam and I quickly get to work, telling them all how great Alba is and that I'm convinced 12 will be triumphant, again. Some of them seem convinced whereas others just won't give me the time of day, they'd rather hear about the "unfortunate" business with my family.
The next three days seem to fly by with Alba informing me that she's become quite handy with a knife and it looks like she's going to ally with the tributes from 11, which Chaff and I are quite happy about. His tributes look a lot more muscular than ours but who isn't? However, Alba manages a seven, which stands her in good stead for 12 standards. I've even managed to convince some Capitolites to deposit their money in to our account.
Soon it's time for the interview prep and I've made it quite clear to Elerrah that Alba is not to be sexualised, she can look strong but not like a promiscuous Capitolite, she's still only fifteen.
So far Alba has been the model tribute and she isn't stopping now, every question I ask her she replies with witty and confident answers and doesn't falter once. The guilt I felt over winning begins to haunt me again, how many tributes put this much effort in and died whereas I didn't try until I was in the arena?
"Okay, I think you'll be fine," I say, "But I have to ask, how are you feeling? I haven't seen you cry once."
"I cried when I said goodbye to my family and then told myself that would be the last time. If I want to come home I can't be seen as weak."
"You're definitely not weak, Alba."
She gives me a smile and then leaves for her etiquette lesson with Marsella. I've surprised myself by how much I've been trying with Alba, as much as I've wanted to stay in my room and just drink endless amounts of alcohol I just feel spineless every time I consider doing it. Alba didn't ask for this, she deserves as much help as she can get.
For the interviews the victors sit in the audience among the distinguished Capitol guests and the cameras flit between the tributes and us to see what our reactions are. The Hunger Games are the main opportunity each year for the Capitol to see what their favourite victors are getting up to.
As usual, the Careers are pompous and convinced that they are all going to win. The sad truth is that they are all old enough to be stylised in a sexual way and the people of the Capitol just lap it up. Knowing what I do now about Snow's plans for victors, the people in the audience are probably just wondering who will be their latest play thing.
I'm suddenly pulled out of my thoughts as Caesar welcomes Alba to the stage and begins to ask for her thoughts on the Capitol.
"It's very different from home, I can see why the victors love it so much," she flashes the audience a charming smile that is too sickly sweet for me but perfect for them. Elerrah listened to my warnings and has put Alba in a full length metallic dress with bold makeup that definitely gives her an air of strength and confidence.
"And do you think you're prepared for the Games? A score of seven isn't bad," says Caesar.
"I'm definitely prepared, I think I have as good a chance as any of the other tributes."
The interview is a moderate success, she's not as flashy as the Careers but she is firm with her answers, I only worry that the audience will forget her.
Tomorrow the games will begin and, for the first time, I start thinking about how I'll feel if Alba doesn't win.