There is a massive round of applause before the buzzer finally goes off. I stand there, stunned. Feta loves me, feta loves me. I love him too! I LOVE HIM! I LOVE HIM!
As soon as we get off the glass elevator, he gets a glass of grape juice, and I kiss him. It felt amazing, kind of like one of those teen romance movies where people kiss and kids are just like, "Ewww!". It was tomorrow when we'd enter the arena, so I beter get all those kisses out of him. To my disappointment, instead of wrapping his arms around me, he shoves me, so I go straight into a wall, and a vase falling on my hands. My hands are now covered in blood, and pain is all around.
His face says he's panicking when I yell, "What was that for, you jerk?!" My hands stung, they would definitely scar!
"I don't love you!" He yells. "It was just for the cameras, you idiot! But, listen, I didn't mean to hit you that-"
I suddenly kicked him, right in the private parts, and pride in watching him jumping up and down, holding them, letting go of his grape juice. Blood began to ooze from is pants rapidly. Puffy and Heybich walk out of the elevator and are shocked. It is illegal to fight other tributes, because they throw you into that damn arena no matter what state you're in.
"What the heck? Medic, medic!" Puffy rushes off to find a nurse.
Heybich's face is stern, "You idiots," he mutters, "you now both have a severe disadvantage in the arena, no matter if you get any sponsors or not!" He stomps off.
In the nurse, my hands are bandaged, the nurse said it should get better by tomorrow, but I'm not certain. Turns out, I didn't really hurt Feta that badly, he just spilt his grape juice on it. Damn you Feta!
When I wake up, the nurse was right, they are as good as new, but I still don't trust Feta. I go downstairs, and stuff myself, it may be the last proper meal I'll ever eat. And guess what I have for desert, creme brûlée! Well, ten of them! Who cares? I've definitely eaten enough for it to count as three meals, but what I say is, just keep eating, just keep eating, just keep eating, eating, eating!
Then they take me to this room, where they hold me down to a chair, making sure I cannot escape.
A lady comes in and warns, "This will hurt!" , and injects a tracker into my arm. OWW! IT HURTS! IF THESE PEOPLE WEREN'T HOLDING ME DOWN SHE'D BE DEAD! She walks off and then I enter a tube, it closes behind me.
I am about to enter the arena.
"Is this a bad time to say," I yell, "I NEED TO PEE!"