Hope's Lost (51st Hunger Games)

Chapter 8- The Storm, it's Coming.

          “Up.” Said a voice. My eyes opened slowly. The lights that hung above my head were gleaming and my head seemed to hurt even more. “What the hell did you do to yourself?” A woman’s displeased voice remarked. I moaned loudly, writhing around a bit on the table I had been lain down on. “Well, I guess you’re not going to tell me. But that still doesn’t change the fact you need to be on the chariot in…” Silence. “2 hours and 39 minutes. We need to finish our work here pretty quickly.”

         I struggle to sit up, shaking my head to clear the nausea at least a bit. The dress I’m wearing is short, and I’m wearing nothing underneath. It’s made of paper, and somehow my body feels lighter, as though it will release itself from my conscious any second now. I turn to see a woman with long purple hair that covers one side of her head, while the other side is bare. She is about a decade away from being Kadin’s approximate age. “Your hair was difficult to work with. But I managed to tame it.” She says, and reflexively I grip my hair. At least… Where my hair should be. Frantically, I grab for it and find its length had been shortened to about my shoulders. And it was smooth.

         A small yelp escapes my mouth and I bring the hair close to my face. “Oh my-” I manage to say in shock. My hair was blue. And it’s not the light blue that graces the ocean on a sunny afternoon in District 12; it’s a terrifying deep blue color during a rare storm. “Like it?” the woman says, pleased with herself. I say nothing except shake my head in awe. “No- I don’t.” She grins and replies slowly. “That’s fine. Your opinion didn’t matter anyway.” Standing, she presses a button on the wall and says, “Bring it in, she’s conscious.”

         A door creaks open and two avoxes run in with a dress separating them. “Help her get it on.” The purple haired woman demands. One quickly runs behind me, untying the strings that seemed to hold the dress up on my body. It falls and I am wearing nothing. Desperately covering myself, an avox bows in front of me, holding a pair of undergarments in her hand. I quickly slip it on and suddenly I am faced with the dress. With both avoxes holding the dress, I hesitate to step inside it. They button the back of the dress and tighten the corset. “Hmph. I was lucky to get 4 this year. So much to work with.” Shoes were hastily placed in front of my feet and I step in. They had a higher heel in the back, and this made me lose my balance, nearly falling forward.

          “Perfect. Get her to make-up and then to Kadin. Chop-chop!” she shouts. The avoxes, afraid and unnerved by her screams, grip my arms and lead me out. Soon after my make-up is done, I am turned to the shining mirror. My dress is adorned with seaweed that is heavily laden with glistening pearls. Sparking opaque blue fabric rain from my hips in waterfall and I am wearing a heavy pearl necklace. I gasp at the sights and watch my reflection carefully. My eyes dusted with a bright blue and my lips a deep green.  I look ethereal… Untouchable. The person I see almost isn’t me. It’s… Improved somehow.

           And yet… The avoxes behind me are solemn reminder that in a week I am going to die. At the hands of the very same people that have “decorated” me. I am led into an elevator that lowers us into a sort of basement. When the doors slide open, I know where I am. Horse-drawn chariots stand in a long line awaiting their passengers who happen to stand alongside them. I turn back to the avoxes who step back inside the elevator.

           Searching for Kadin was easy, since cigarette smoke leaves such a trail. Fourth chariot from the front, he stood with Anders. “There she is. Finally…” I approach them cautiously. “Took you so long to get out of that coma.” Anders says jokingly. I smile weakly in reply and face Kadin’s solemn expression. “10 minutes till show.” He says quietly before walking away. We stand in an awkward silence and I finally can see clearly the wave-like patterns embroidered on the breast of his suit and the pearls that twinkled loosely from the edges of his collar. Anders’ hair is flush against his head and it still retains that amazing dark color. There was nothing tainting his ivory complexion except for a wisp of blue that dusted his eyelids the same way they dust mine.