When I wake and look at the digital clock on my bedside table, I discover that it is only hours later. I groan, thinking that I'd slept for an entire night. The sky outside is more vivid, alive almost in comparison to the pale light of the morning. I fidget around and eventually, Clove wakes because of it.
"Sorry," I whisper but she shakes her head and stretches out all of her muscles. I look at her in wonder. Such a small body can do so much with a weapon.
"Morning," She says but then adds, "right?"
"Early afternoon, I think," I reply, both of us getting up and ready.
"Look at you two," Brutus sniggers as we walk in yawning. "Sprightly."
"Oh, gosh, we will be arriving in the Capitol soon!" Veronica squeals, obviously frustrated. "I can't let my stars go out there looking like that!"
"Thank you," I laugh but no one seems to hear it.
"Cato, brush your hair," She continues, "and Clove, I'll style yours." Clove groans, not even bothering to hide her discontent, but she still goes with Veronica into the car adjacent to us, the side opposite where Clove and I entered through. I don't bother brushing my hair. I simply wet my hands with a glass of water at the table and smooth them over my scalp.
"Nice method," Brutus grins.
"I've perfected it over the years. Done it myself since I could stand on a stool and see myself in a mirror," I say with a chuckle. I'm used to loathing my Father - and trust me, that feeling remains everlasting and strong - but there are rare times when I wish that he'd been a proper, caring parent. Then again, out of five children, one is bound to be left out. It's a pity that it had to be me though.
"We are just minutes away from the screaming citizens of the Capitol and you two are choosing to waste time cuddling?!" Veronica squeals impatiently. Her voice is scarce and muffled in my mind but I answer her, only to satisfy her.
"Oh, I'd choose this option all day long," I say and this pleases Clove immensely. I see this in the huge beam on her face. She is plastered in ghastly makeup - so am I, in fact - but she looks radiant no matter what. Minutes later, Veronica drags us to the window - "publicity is everything" - and demands that we smile and wave. We are supposed to look friendly yet brave at the same time. It is a hard simultaneous expression to master. Especially your first try being the time when it counts. Normally, I wouldn't want to do this. I feel very embarrassed. Although with Clove beside me, preparing to wave and grin, I will participate. The darkness soon ends and is replaced with severe white light. I notice that we are in a train station. Despite being safely inside the train carriage, I begin to feel slightly claustrophobic. People and cameras are everywhere. But these people aren't normal. I thought that District 1 were the garish ones but my assumption was completely wrong. The train is thronged by a giant mass of multi-coloured onlookers. They all look foolishly desperate to get a glimpse of us. Some people even push past the barriers and gently brush their decorated fingers across the thin panes of glass between us and them. That is when I first see this wall that is built to separate us. For the first time in my life, I see being a Tribute as a synonym for being a prisoner. I shiver and watch as the crowd are loosely restrained by peacekeepers. The Capitol citizens are the privileged. They will not be ruled by anyone who is originally from a district. We stop and leave the train. Swarms of avid fans clump around us as the peacekeepers try to find us a way through. Veronica, Brutus and Enobaria FOLLOW closely behind us - almost as if they are out bodyguards. Though, I don't see Veronica being the physically tough type.
I don't take in my stylists names because I don't care to know them. They will make me look stupid, no matter what excuse they make to mask their clothed idiocy. It is a matter of deception and distinguishing truth from pure reality. They hose me down and scrub every inch of my body from head to toe until my skin is sore. This makes me dislike them even more. They are all male and they look hideous. There is kindling in my mind that the majority of their body parts or facial features are genetically enhanced and altered. The man that seems like the head stylists - he appears to have the most authority of the three - has a nose that seems to be in the shape of a peacock. I can tell that it is some sort of bird but my accurate guess was only just sourced from the sapphire and emerald sequins that adorn his sky blue face. I close my eyes. wishing to journey away from the world of rainbow outfits and painful procedures that are taking place on my body. So, I so what is now natural to me. I think of Clove. Actually, I think of her for a high percentage of the time. The remainder of the time, one statement repeats again and again in my head until I could fall asleep reciting it. The chilling words are said by probably everyone I know by the time I fall asleep. Father, Mother, each and every one of siblings and nearly everybody at the Academy. Even Clove say it a fair few times. She is the last voice I hear before I drift into a peaceful slumber.
"Cato, you are not at home."
Hey, everyone! Very sorry that I ahvent updated for a while but I am pleased to say that I am back. I don't know how long I'll be writing again for because I will be quite busy during the summer holidays but I hope to be posting as frequently as I can. Thanks for beating with me guys - vote and comment please. Thank you!
~Lauren is happy to be writing again
YOU ARE READING
Knives
FanfictionI've always thought that The Hunger Games was the most important thing in my life. When I win, I can come back a hero. I can prove to my wretched family that I am worth something - worth a lot actually. But the Games don't seem to matter as much any...
