Rosemary Acker was pronounced victor of the 55th annual Hunger Games, however she didn't feel like a victor. The trauma and horrors of the games continues to haunt her for many years to come. Watching her friends die one by one, under the hands of P...
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A loud knock on the door jolted Rosemary from her restless slumber. The previous night had been a sleepless ordeal, her mind too haunted by the memories of the Games to allow for any rest. So, despite the early hour, there was no complaint about fatigue to accompany her swift response to the knocking. A second knock came, louder and more insistent, demanding her attention.
She threw off the dusty covers, revealing her clothed form. The same socks she had worn in the shower now clung to her feet, still slightly damp and leaving damp trails as she walked across the room. The third knock prompted her to hasten her steps, nearly causing her to lose her balance as she descended the stairs. Catching herself just in time, she made her way to the door, quickly unlocking it to reveal two men in white uniforms, resembling the Peacekeepers.
Rosemary's disheveled appearance, messy hair, oversized t-shirt, and no pants, only underwear, must have been quite a sight. Her socks, once clean, had picked up dust along the way, leaving a trail of disarray in her wake. She ignored their judgmental glances, her mind more focused on their presence.
"Rosemary Acker," the man who maintained eye contact with her began, "We're here on orders from the President."
"Lovely, come in," Rosemary replied, opening the door wider to allow them access to her house.
The two men must have found her a curious sight – a sixteen-year-old girl inviting them into her home in such a state. They followed her through the house, their eyes tracking her every move. She sat down at the kitchen table, leaning onto it with a sense of resignation as they took their seats.
"So, shoot," Rosemary urged, her gaze locked on the man who had previously averted his eyes.
"We are here on orders from the President—" he started again, but Rosemary interrupted.
"You already said that," she pointed out, not one to tolerate unnecessary repetition.
The man cleared his throat, straightening his posture. "Well, President Snow wanted to make you an offer."
"What kind of offer?" Rosemary inquired, feeling a sense of unease creep over her. She had no desire to be entangled with the Capitol any more than she already was, but she couldn't refuse an order from the President.
"He wants you to visit the Capitol more frequently, as a special guest," the man explained. "You see, Rosemary Acker, you're known as the famous Bloody Mary. The people in the Capitol adore you, and what could be better than allowing them to express their love for you?"
"Bloody Mary," Rosemary whispered the dreaded name. Her heart tightened in her chest, a feeling of dread settling over her.
"You'll meet with them privately, and then you'll do as they say. Afterward, you'll be generously compensated," the other man chimed in.
