V
…
Cinna had made me into a master piece, as usual.
The dress hugged my frame. It was skin tight, making my rib cage visible, looking like the black keys on the piano, as Effie had called the piece of furniture Peeta and I found Haymitch playing one night after our arrival to the Capitol that sat in the foyer of the penthouse.
The fabric was black with red and orange mixed into it. It looked like the remnants of a fire, embers.
I was the "Girl on Fire."
Ironic.
Now, I was the "burnt out" Victor.
Ha.
Cinna had helped me prepare for today hours ago.
He had come into my room with Flavius, Venia, and Octavia early in the morning. They drew me a hot bath and started from beauty base zero. Flavius brushed and detangled and trimmed my hair. Venia had waxed and plucked and sculpted my eyebrows back to their original state during the opening ceremony. And Ocavia had cleaned and varnished and trimmed my fingernails, painting them a glossy black and the ring finger on each hand a shimmering orange-red.
They did not talk about me as they did before, making little side comments to one another as if I wasn't even a person or there, but a child's toy. But, this time they looked at me with sad eyes and worked silently. They worked quickly too, making sure they got everything right the first time so they didn't have to repeat any steps. And when they were done, they left as swiftly as possible, without a word.
When they were gone, Cinna came in.
He helped me into the dress, shaking his head at my frail figure as you could see my ribs and breast bone as a result of the dress's little skin coverage around my chest area. He had slipped black, tall shoes to my feet that wrapped up around my ankles like the ones Effie wore, helping me stand and grow as comfortable as I possibly could in them by the way I wobbled. He drew on dark, musky makeup around my eyes and red on my lips in an attempt to bring out the "chiseled" features of my face and the silver of my eyes. He even gave me jewelry to wear: black, silvery earing that dangled down to my collarbone with black feathers attached and a black, silvery arrow that twisted around my forearm three times.
He told me he was sorry and I knew he was.
He was sorry my sister's name was picked.
He was sorry I was forced to fight for my life
He was sorry that I had to live like this, haunted.
He was sorry that I had to do this, be the Capitol's toy.
He had allowed me to braid my hair, though, and in returned I allowed him to curl its end and the stray hairs that did not fit into the braid's twines as well as knit a few, thin strings of red and orange into the braid that played off of the dress.
My braid… it was all I had, it was all me.
Me… I now had mixed feelings who that was - a killer or the Seam girl I was born.
…
Raising his hands, the crowd fell silent.
Seneca Crane smiled.
He enjoyed his job too much. Creating Games and sending children to their own death, playing tricks and jokes that only ever ended badly, being the king of life and death itself. This was his job, this was his life. And to show his success and how wonderful he was at it, at the end of it all, he stood here in front of all Panem to present his prize, a victor, his gift to us all.
And the way the Capitol honors and bowed to him made my stomach turn.
The way he even acted was represented in his looks.
His beard was trimmed in the same extravagant swirls and design it was before the Games. Yet the only difference was that the hair on his head seemed to be shorter, but still brushed back in the same manner as it was before. He wore a simple, scarlet, collared shirt under a black, silk jacket and tucked into a pair of matching pants. His shoes were polished along with his nails. And his skin was clean as could be, a flawless shade of beige.
He was a model Head Gamemaker, a model master of murder.
Not one part of him looked to be out of place.
He was dressed just as perfectly as his arenas were laid out, to the point.
"Ladies and gentleman," he smiled with such pride and glory, "I am proud to present you with this year's, the 74th Hunger Games' Victor from District 12, Katniss Everdeen!"
The crowd erupted into another loud applauds and enthusiastic screams.
And on point, I gave the people of the Capitol and the cameras a soft smile as Effie had instructed me.
The applauds stopped though after a long period when a man dressed in a pristine, white uniform walks out. He carried a black, silvery crown, that looked to be made of the same metal of the jewelry Cinna had dressed me in, that was shaped like intertwined ivy vines out on a small pillow. The man carried the crown behind me to where President Snow stood.
When Snow took the crown in his hands there seemed to be an even more so immaculate sort of quite fall down through the crowd. Then there was a long pause. Long. And then as Snow began to move - slowly, without a doubt to build anticipation within the Capitol citizens - he placed the crown upon my head.
The crowd broke into another applauds.
I give the crowd and the cameras another smile, forced smile.
Then I turn to face Snow. He gives me a sickening smile that makes my stomach turn and I give him a "gentle" smile back in return that I force my lips to form. He leans down, kissing my one cheek and then the other. Yet after he plants the second kiss on my cheek he pauses, not pulling away from my face, for a moment to whisper into my ear:
"I hope to get together sometime soon with you, Ms. Everdeen. I hope to get some alone time with you in the next couple of months to talk. We have much business to talk about, much indeed."
Then, when he's done speaking, he pulls away with the same sickening smile plaster across his lips as he had given me moments ago.
I let out the breath I didn't know I was holding before I turn back to face the crowd. My stomach twisted and knotted beyond belief that I'm surprised I don't keel over in pain. Yet, instead I force myself to smile again, giving the crowd and cameras a soft wave.
…
"Katniss," Caesar and his obnoxious blue hair booms, "It's so great to see you."
I force smile, hearing my voice strain as I speak. It was the first time I had spoken since I cried out in agony, a pleading "No" through the arena when the boy from 1 pierced his knife through the back of Peeta's neck, killing him…
That was weeks ago.
"You, too, Caesar," I let out a soft laugh, acting like someone I wasn't, "I was afraid I wasn't going to see you again."
"Oh, Katniss, I must say I wasn't afraid of that at all. There was no doubt in my mind I'd see you again. I knew you'd be the one to win the Games." He smiles, laughs too, pressing his hand against the silver fabric of his suit jacket. "I mean, I'm sure the Gamemakers, especially the Head Gamemaker wouldn't have awarded you with an eleven if you didn't deserve it."
He smiles again, leaning closer to me and motioning me to lean in toward him as if he had a secret to tell me and didn't want anyone in the audience to hear what he had to say.
"You never did tell me how you got that eleven."
I laugh, gently pushing against his shoulder with my hand playfully. "You know I can't tell you that, Caesar."
"I'll get you to tell me one day," he smiles, waggling his eyebrows.
The crowd roars, laughing and screaming.
I laugh, too.
No, you won't.
"Well, Katniss, we'll leave that for another time." He pauses. Then giving me one last teasing look before eyeing me up and down, he continues. "Now let's talking about what you're wearing. I mean I don't know if I have said it yet, but you look beautiful as always tonight. But - Wow! This gown just makes you seem so much more… mature and stunning."
"Thank you, Caesar." I smile, pausing to look down at the fabric, running my hands over it. "It is beautiful isn't it? It's one of Cinna's creations of course."
"You are the Girl on Fire."
I smile politely, doing my best not to cringe at the name. "Thank you."
He smiles. "I might have to steal that man away from you."
"You'll have to kill me first," I joke.
He laughs and so does the crowd along with him.
When the later dies down, there's a pause and then he continues:
"Now about your Games, congratulations. You are the 74th Hunger Games' Victor, that's something."
I nod, not daring to verbally respond because it's a lie. It's more than something. It's an unforgettable, haunting, and cursed title. I deserved no congratulations, I deserved the death sentence.
"Ready to go over the highlights?"
And again all I can do is nod my head.
…
I go straight for the exit. I avoid all the cameras and any person that I feel I would kill on sight. And as I walk, I make sure to be quick in my step.
As I come up to where everyone stands, Haymitch and Effie and Cinna, the blond haired, blue eyed man with the built frame from the night before and the night before that and from the hovercraft is standing there along beside them.
And I don't know what I am thinking, I'm not, but all I know is that I take one of the tall glass bottles of alcohol from off a nearby table that is covered with a nice display of drinks and foods before grabbing the man by the collar and pulling him into the elevator with me.
Haymitch gives me a concerned look when I turn after stepping into the compartment and I just give him a simple smile in return waiting for the doors to close already.
The moment the doors do shut in front of us, I push the man up against one of the compartment's walls in anger. I take a long swig from the bottle, long, before mashing it against the wall. I then held the bottle's broken, jetted ends of shredded glass "gently" against his chest as a weapon.
"Who the fuck are you!?"
"Cato Battenberg," he states calmly, "72nd Hunger Games' Victor."
"What do you want with me?" I press.
He smiles, challenging me. "Why do you think I want anything with you?"
I laugh, feeling the calming burn of the alcohol enter my already loosened bloodstream and letting my grip loose of his shirt. Then backing away from him so I stood in the center of the elevator, still with the jagged bottle in hand, ready to be used if needed. I continue to laugh, reaching down with my free hand, releasing my feet of the torture chamber they were wrapped in.
"Why else would you have been there on the hovercraft?"
"My tribute could have killed you in the end."
"With my kill streak going on," I snort. "Plus his visceral level of stupidity, really?"
He shrugs his shoulders.
"Why would you have been there in the penthouse that night I was doped out of my mind?"
"Maybe I came to steal some of the good stuff from Haymitch," he says.
I press on though, not convinced with his answer. "What District 2 can't afford any of the "good stuff?""
He shrugs, "We can, but it's more fun to steal it from the old drunk."
"And that requires you to carry me to my room?" I say, catching him off guard.
He thinks for a moment before saying, "Let's just say I was being a gentleman."
I snort again, "Says the Brute."
He doesn't respond, surprised by my comment maybe, but who knows and so I continue:
"Then why would you be having a nice, casual conversation with Haymitch about me last night?"
"Huh- " He says caught off guard before smiling, "You're good."
And on that note the elevator doors open and I step back into the penthouse, giving him a bow.
"That's why I was crowned Victor."
He snorts, cracking a smile as the elevator doors shut in front of him.