This Is All Just A Game [The Hunger Games]

o4 - The Gaze Of An Angel

Chapter 4: The Gaze Of An Angel

 

I stood perfectly still, like a statue, head held high though my nerves felt like they were collapsing.

We had arrived in the Capitol about 3 hours ago. Since then I have been stripped, gazed upon, cleaned, plucked, waxed and brushed.

Why?

Because that is what every competitor has to go through.

It’s one of our biggest obstacles, which no competitor has ever by-past... yes. It is...

Beauty specialists.

I was left in a fully white room, standing upon a block of some sort, completely naked.

I wanted to cry, but my onlooker stopped me from doing that.

He was about 21-years-old, around 5”10, with slightly spiky dyed black hair with white streaks, electric blue and sometimes black eyes, pale skin and 2 golden studs on his right ear. I will admit that he was handsome, in a weird way. But when he was walking around me in his designer shoes, gazing at every feature on my sore body... all I wanted was to collapse on the white couch over in the corner and sleep, after having a quick fit.

“Are you done yet?” I finally gave way to an exasperated sigh.

He came to stand before me, gazing up at me with a smile that made his electric eyes seem like they were dancing. “It’s just surprising. They actually gave me something to work with this year.”

I knit my eyebrows together in confusion. “What do you mean, sir?”

He waved a hand at me. “Please, call me Ace, Elenie.”

“Okay...” I said slowly, confused. I wasn’t expecting to be talked to kindly here in the Capitol. “Ace, then, what do you mean by that?”

“You are quite fit. You have the right form and structure, as well as plenty of beauty. You will shine like a star,” he listed, walking over to a large white wardrobe over to the side, while I beamed at the compliment. I’d never thought I was beautiful, just average.

He opened the doors, reaching in. After finding what he was looking for, he pulled it out, revealing it to me.

I didn’t hear myself gasp.

 

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The girl in the mirror surely wasn’t me. This girl was entirely different from the girl in the dress too tight a few days ago.

This girl in the mirror was beautiful. She had princess bouncy brown curls that looked wispy with wind, shining forest green eyes, powdered to white skin and the slight dust of freckles made her look sophisticated. The dress she wore was absolutely stunning - a flowing dress of a creamy white, with white wings.

She was the symbol of the extinct doves, which used to be native to my district.

I reached out to the mirror as if to touch the wings. My fingertips met cool glass.