The Murderess - Rewrite

Chapter 2

The speed takes my breath away.

I'm a fast runner but I've never flown the way the train does. I find that I'm surprised I don't topple down. My father used to tell me the few stories he had of riding in a train, handling deliveries between the far ends of the district to assemble the materials for the finest mahogany tables, the luxurious striped timber wine racks, and the shining cherrywood chairs that the Capitol citizens enjoyed selfishly.

The trip to the Capitol will only take a few hours, the trains moving nearly three hundred miles an hour to a region conveniently close to District Seven.

It's even more beautiful within the train than within the Justice Building. Avoxes appear behind us, motioning to two rooms marked with small slips of paper that read our name. I step inside the one reading 'MORGAN REEVES - DISTRICT SEVEN FEMALE' and find a spacious chamber with a bedroom, a small dressing area, a private bathroom with both a tub and a shower that runs hot and cold water, and a large window where I can see the forest past by me as we depart.

I've never had this much space to myself. I've never even had a bathroom that ran hot water. In the winter, we burn our lumber and heat water for our baths, though we've recently grown used to cold baths to save all our warm water for Gretya, who is easily aggravated by colder water. The warmth alleviates her pain even slightly.

I feel like a disgusting creature, infecting this beautiful room. And then, I find myself hating the room because of its finery. Here I am on my way to a place filled with death and doom and the Capitol thinks I should have something 'nice' before I die. It's a strange taste of what I can have if I win and a reminder of where I come from, a place with nothing.

Shaking my head, I exit the room without examining all the drawers that I'm sure are filled with fine clothes. Slipping down the hall, I hear Rupalia explaining to Griffin that the clothes are all for him, he should wear anything he wants because everything is at our disposal. In an hour, we'll have supper together, a feast unlike anything we've seen.

Griffin doesn't look hungry. In fact, it looks as though he wishes he could never eat again.

I see him sit in the next car, by a window with a satin chair. I move beside him, offering a smile. He returns it, but I see that even that makes his eyes water, as if he's thinking the same thing I was not long ago– only one of us can come back from this, if any at all.

"My mama's pregnant," says Griffin quietly, turning away from the window. "She told me just now. She might lose the baby."

"I hope she won't," I say softly. "After all, it needs to wait right where it is to see you when you come back."

"I won't come back," he says, convinced. "I don't know how to do anything. The youngest Victor was fourteen. Nobody younger has ever won. I'm going to die here and that's that." He hugs his little legs to his chest. "I know your sister. She's really nice. I was there when she fell off the rock wall. I remember her screaming." He squeezes his eyes shut. "People are going to scream like that as they die. We're going to scream when we die. It'll just hurt hurt hurt then... nothing."

"Don't say that," I tell him. "We're a team, alright? We'll protect each other. We have two Victors to teach us. It's got to count for something."

He shrugs, and I know he doesn't believe a word I've said.

The automatic door slides open, allowing Blight and Johanna in. Up close, I realize how different Johanna Mason looks compared to the memories I have from our youth and the last time I was face-to-face with her. Her presence is intimidating, which I suppose is the whole point given her tactic in her games. Her hair is spiked and turned up where the ends meet her shoulders, with streaks of cherry red. Her thin and serious face bears wide-set brown eyes that scan Griffin and I like a lion examining a sheep.