Scarlet.

V

"Mockingjays."

I enjoy being dizzy, the sensation of the world spinning and spinning, life devoid of any meaning, as I truly don't care about anything anymore. Upon arriving in District 11, they had to inject something into my arm to conceal the fact that my body had more alcohol than blood.

"Where did you get that?" Nouria had asked me after seeing the mockingjay pin on my nightstand. "You didn't have it with you when we got on the train."

"I found it on the floor of the Justice Building in District Twelve."

I don't know why I lied so blatantly, but I didn't want to reveal the true origin of the brooch. She ended up pinning it to my dress because the colors matched—a blend of bronze and yellow. The bird holds an arrow, and it feels like it's going to fly away at any given moment. It's the perfect representation of the girl from District 12, Katniss Everdeen.

Now that I've learned her name, it never leaves my mind, and her actions keep me awake at night. I wish I knew the reason for her suicide in the arena; I suppose she was only seeking a quiet death without too much suffering. I would have done the same if I had been in her place.

I still have doubts about the relationship she had with the boy from her district, but that's the least of my concerns. The ideology of that girl piques my interest, and perhaps the only person who has the answers to my questions is her mentor, Haymitch. I could talk to him now that we'll both be mentors during the games.

The weather in District 11 is different from District 12; it's scorching here, the sun beats down relentlessly, and my stomach hurts the second I stand outside the train. My throat closes, and I feel something heavy squeezing my chest.

It's absolutely miserable how people live here; there are crumbling shacks and no shelter from the sun, and the mistreatment is evident even in the Justice Building, with stained walls and missing pieces on the ceiling. We won't hold too many celebrations here, as the place clearly doesn't allow for it. I wonder what purpose the houses around the center of the district serve; it's obvious that nobody lives in this area, and the population probably seek refuge near the fields. This place is vast, and I want to know how they choose their tributes for the games because there's obviously an immense number of young people eligible for selection.

Families are on the platform built at the back of the stage, just like in District 12. On the boy's side, there's a hunched old woman and a tall, muscular girl. On the girl's side, her parents stand in the middle of a group of five small children.

It's uncomfortable being here because it was Cato who killed Thresh, and I mocked Rue's death during the feast to infuriate Katniss and put on a good show for the cameras. The more I think about it, the more stupid I feel. It didn't even give us sponsors in the arena; it was useless, and I almost died because of it.

We follow the same protocol as in District 12, with empty speeches and fake smiles. But when the mayor hands me my plate, I drop it because I'm still quite dizzy, and it's unbelievably heavy. I kneel to pick it up, and as I stand, I push my hair behind my shoulders, revealing the mockingjay pin on my dress.

An audible gasp from the crowd breaks the silence; surprised gazes fixate on me, and all I can do is stand there, bewildered, holding my flowers and the metallic plate that's making my hands sweat more and more with each passing second. Haymitch had said he gave me the pin because he had no use for it anymore, but he hadn't told me anything more about it. I have no idea what it truly symbolizes, let alone where it came from. I thought it was just something he did out of spite or something of the sort.

And then it happens—someone whistles a four-note melody I've never heard before, and one by one, the citizens bring the three central fingers of their left hand to their lips, then extend them towards the stage. Perhaps it's some way of showing that they wish death upon me or a sign that they are going to attack us any moment now. I gaze at the crowd in astonishment, and I think I've shaken off the drunkenness in less than five minutes because the tension in the air is palpable—something is going on.