𝐏𝐢𝐭𝐢𝐟𝐮𝐥 || 𝐏𝐞𝐞𝐭𝐚 𝐌𝐞𝐥𝐥𝐚𝐫𝐤

|| 𝐒𝐭𝐫𝐢𝐩𝐩𝐞𝐝 ||

"She was about to die"

The justice building cleared, and the boy and I were lead out the back, into another transport. This one was dark, with tinted windows and a chauffeur holding the door open. I slid to the far side, and the male tribute sat down next to me.

He was tall, dark-skinned with cropped hair. His right eyebrow had a slit in it, and I could see his hard muscled arms through the sleeve of his shirt. But the threatening aspects started and ended at that. He had kind eyes, beautifully almond shaped that complimented his high cheek bones. This guy would be an instant fan favorite, I could already tell.

Within minutes they arrived at the Remake Center. Oh god, the Remake Center. I hadn't registered yet that being a tribute meant having every aspect of me taken apart and put back together. I had gotten so accustomed to my normal attire, I couldn't even remember what I looked like with my hair down. My clothes and hair were always done by low ranking Capitol attendants, and definitely never in front of a mirror.

As we exited the car, the crowds on the platform cheered and hollered, but not for us. It must be a Career train arriving, seeing as their districts were closest and their trains would arrive first. Most tributes wouldn't arrive till the next day, which meant both the Avoxes had time to spare. Who else would make the Capitol citizens so excited?

•••

I was having my hair scrubbed for what seemed like the fifth time. The pink bubbles smelled like citrus, and the green-haired woman who was massaging my scalp clicked her tongue against the roof of her mouth disapprovingly .

"See dear, you'd think they would use better quality hair and makeup products on Avoxes who served high-ranking advisors, but here we are! You know, You're lucky you haven't had any infections around your eyes, the liner they used is simply too thick. And don't even get me started on the gel for your hair..."

On and on and on, the woman had been criticizing me for the past hour. She had first melted off all the makeup with a damp fluffy sponge, scrubbing gently at my red stained lips. Those had taken forever to finally wash away.

And for the first time in what felt like ages, I finally got a good look at my face. In the large vanity before me, I saw that my jawline had filled out, creating a softer profile. After the foundation had washed away, I was happy to report that my nose was just as freckled as ever, and my hazel eyes were still framed by most of my lashes. I never was great at scrubbing off eye makeup before I slept, so I was mostly to blame for that.

The real problem apparently, was my hair. My stylist, who I came to know as Oletta, complained they had wound my bun far too tight due to its length, and she was having trouble detangling it. Eventually, another stylist joined them, and he too attacked my hair, combing and detangling and yanking, making my eyes water.

After what felt like hours, my hair finally hung in a smooth auburn sheet, reaching the middle of my back once again. I could feel its cold dampness through the towel they wrapped around me after bathing, which went by fast thanks to the good hygiene required of Avoxes. Though I had to admit, I wasn't too fond of the fact that I now smelled overwhelmingly like an entire bakery.

"Now that that's over with, we shall begin with hair removal!" Oletta hummed and clapped her hands together, as if this was her favorite part. She motioned for me to stand up, and with a swipe of Oletta's hand my towel was ripped from my body.

I let out a gasp, attempting to cover myself in front of the male stylist. I knew my face was a furious my privacy being completely stripped away along with the towel. They didn't care one bit though, and he shook his head at me.

"You know, it's nothing I haven't seen before."

Hesitantly, I let my hands fall to my side, and the two made quick work of waxing and plucking every little stray hair from my arms, legs, face, etc. I felt like a rotisserie chicken afterwards, shiny and raw.

"I think that's good enough." Oletta finally announced. "Now if you'll just step behind that curtain and pop on the robe, we must make it to your next appointment on time."

Next appointment?

Puzzled, I slipped behind the curtain and grabbed the robe, which was deep red and made of silk. Its fit felt familiar, though I couldn't quite place it. Tying it at the waist with the ribbon provided, I pushed open the curtain, stepping into the matching silk slippers on the ground.

"Well, you look almost human now! I have to say, that Avox makeup did nothing for your features." Oletta grinned, showing the jewels that bedazzled her front teeth. I offered an awkward smile in response.

We made our way to the elevators, arriving just in time to see the male tribute and his stylists appear from his station.

"Ah, there's Kian and his team. Wonderful!"

So his name is Kian.

Sure I had felt silk before, I was from District 8, maker of textiles. Fabric was my livelihood, and I was a skilled seamstress who could name dozens of different fabrics and work magic with a needle and thread. This fabric felt different, but familiar.

The elevator dinged as it reached its destination. We stepped out just as Kian and his stylists did, into a completely white room. There were chairs against the wall, but other than that the room was empty. "Us stylist are going to pop on back upstairs, but we'll see you again tomorrow for your outfits for the chariot ride! Good luck!" And with that we were alone, inside the scary white room.

It was silent, obviously. I still fiddled with the fabric of the robe, willing myself to remember. I didn't know why, but it made me feel uneasy.

And then it clicked. And panic took over.

The silver hazmat suits. The red gloves. The needle.

This must have been the same robe I wore then. My head snapped up, grabbing Kian's attention. I held the end of her robe up to him, shaking it and pleading with my eyes.

He raised his brows at me, like I was crazy. No matter, I would find a way out myself.

A door appeared out of nowhere in the opposite wall, and Kian's eyes flash with recognition, most likely remembering his own experience. I banged on the elevator door, willing the stylists to come back.

A person in a silver hazmat suit stood in the doorway, and wordlessly pressed a button that was previously disguised within the wall. Thick fog descended from the ceiling.

My eyes immediately became heavy, and I stumbled away from the elevator, trying to find Kian. Maybe we could get out together. I could see him through the mist, stumbling around. My eyelids became so heavy they refused to open, but I made a beeline forward and crashed into him, latching onto his arm.

He grabbed my shoulder squeezing it as if to say, Oh, I get it now. But it was too late.

Everything went black.
•••

I promise there'll be Peeta content soon, bear with me guys.  🙏🙏🙏