The Hunger Games: Annie Cresta

Chapter 2

I run my fingers across the fabric of the chair that I am seated in. It is soft and lush. Intricate carvings. Lavish decorations. Expensive furniture.

In my home, we only had one room, a kitchen and a bathroom. Our houses are made of sturdy wood that would survive and weather the ocean water. It was a tiny place to call home, especially with a family of five. My older sister is supposed to move out though, since she’s getting married. From five living in that house, two people missing would be a significant change.

There’s a tiny space at the corner of the house though. I could call it a porch or balcony, since I don’t know what to call it, but it resembles something like that. There’s only a mat out where I usually sleep, just to watch the stars. The stars were too beautiful to ignore.  

I would still prefer my tiny space with a view of the stars, if I were to choose between that and the material things that are in my view in this room.

Mama, Papa and my sisters enter the room. They have no tears in their eyes and they will shed none for me.

“Be glad that you have Finnick as a mentor,” Papa says, sitting on the chair beside me. “I know the victors like to rotate the mentorship among themselves.”

“And you have the luck to be mentored by the youngest and most good-looking one!” Alisa, the middle child, densely says. She takes everything just as it is. She is the kind that doesn’t bother with details and depth.

“Don’t disappoint us,” Mama says. She had a best friend sent into the arena when she was younger. Pain only brought out the strength in her. She gives me a kiss on the forehead and a long hug.

The rest of them do the same at intervals.

Before I know it, they are taken away from me.

I’m about to stand and prepare to leave, since I don’t expect anyone else visiting me. I have no sweetheart to give my goodbyes to. My best friend is going into the arena with me. I’m sure that they wouldn’t allow a big group of people to visit if they aren’t family.

It comes to my surprise when someone else goes into the room, smiling at me pleasantly as if we are planning to have tea.

I know her though, but I haven’t met her. Everyone knows her, just as everyone knows Finnick and all the other victors that have brought food and resources for our district.

Her famous image as the beauty during her time as a tribute only added character with age. Her eyes were the shade of sea green, definitely lighter than mine. Her once-long dark locks are now graying. I have seen her Games in reruns. Her stylist always kept her beautiful waist-length hair in large curls. Now, she keeps it in a loose bun. Just as Finnick Odair is famous now, Serena Elodea and her brother Aldo had been the prominent victors of their time.

“I’m sorry that we had to meet on these terms,” she starts, sitting down across me. “I have to say that I’m a little distracted by our resemblance.”