𝙄𝙛 𝙏𝙤𝙢𝙤𝙧𝙧𝙤𝙬 𝙉𝙚𝙫𝙚𝙧 𝘾𝙤𝙢𝙚𝙨 | 𝗖𝗮𝘁𝗼 𝗛𝗮𝗱𝗹𝗲𝘆

𝙲𝚑𝚊𝚙𝚝𝚎𝚛 𝚜𝚒𝚡

6; Scores

"Wow, I didn't know it would be possible for your ego to get even larger in just a few hours. You've past my expectations."
-Sapphire Deryndale

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ON THE WAY out of the penthouse, Effie and Haymitch wished Peeta and I good luck as we stepped into the elevator. The room we sit in is carbon back with seats for each tribute lining the walls. They began with Glimmer, the female tribute from District 1, and continued making their way down.

As Cato stood up, his name being called over the speakers in a monotone voice, he glanced over at me, reassuring me with a nonchalant nod. He continued walking, his aura radiating confidence and pride. His lips curl into his usual cocky grin that just makes me want to grimace.

Lia fidgets with her fingers for the most part, really selling the nervous and clueless act, but I've come to the conclusion that I don't buy it. It just doesn't make sense that her sister is a victor, but never taught her little sister anything when she knew that she was still at risk of being reaped. I don't ask her anything though, if my suspicions are correct, I don't want to be on her bad side; I don't think I would be anyways. Marvel would though, and he's oblivious.

"Sapphire Deryndale." The automated voice announces to the practically vacant room, besides Peeta, who is seated beside me. I stand up slowly, taking a breath in an attempt to slow my rapidly beating heart.

"Sapphire," Peeta says, I turn my head. "Throw straight." I nod with a straight face, but I can tell he sees my nervousness. I step in front of the large door and it slides up to allow me to walk through. I scan the large room and immediately notice the shelf of gamemakers when I look up. They're laughing and joking around obnoxiously, as if this is an unimportant public gathering.

I stand there for a few seconds in annoyance before I look towards the silver rack a few feet in front of me. Daggers. I feel somewhat more comfortable with the idea of being scored seeing them there.

I pick one up in each hand, and instantly notice they have a bit of weight to them. It doesn't shock me though, they're practically solid steel. I glance back up at the gamemakers, who still haven't acknowledged my entrance or presence at all.

"Sapphire Deryndale," I begin, snatching the mens' attention as they turn around to face me, putting on a professional face. "District 12." I turn to face the targets, adjusting my grip on the handles of the daggers. Taking a breath and steadying my stance, my eyes flicker to both targets and in a blink of an eye, launch each knife separately at each target. Blood rushes to my cheeks as the gamemakers' chuckles erupt at the sight.

I realize one lays on the ground, having hit the target at the wrong angle and the other is lodged three inches from the center. Shock floods my face and I quickly build up a desire for redemption.

I take another dagger from the rack, focusing all of my power into my throw, all my anger at the capitol and my promise to my family that I would come home. The blade flips through the air, puncturing the target's center in one clean slice, causing the handle of the dagger to practically touch the silhouette because of the force.

I exhale a breath of satisfaction and look up at the shelf to realize they hadn't seen any of it, their conversations had continued and they ignored me once again. An avox with a white painted face carries in a large platter, a pig sits on it, an apple in its mouth. The group grows ecstatic as their eyes land on it, another servant of the Capitol walking in with two other plates, side dishes presented on both.