Love is Just a Distraction: A Hunger Games Fan-fiction (Temp. On Hold)

When on a train... What to do? (Part 2) -3-

When on a train... What to do? (Part 2)

- 3 -

(Michael's POV)

I smirked in satisfaction as our mentor was carried away. She deserved it, whatever was wrong with her. She deserved it.

I felt eyes on me and turned just as Rashelle stormed out of the room. I watched her stomp away in bewilderment. What did I do? I thought back then remembered something: Ras had screamed for help for Mystik while I had stood there triumphantly. That was probably it.

I sighed. I could never do anything right. Well, except for saving Rashelle two years ago... And today's kiss. But other and those, I usually screwed things up. This would be one of those moments.

I started to walk towards Rashelle's room, then decided against it. I could apologize later. That is, if I could get over my pride to do so.

I turned on my heel and headed towards my own room, frustrated. My room was on the opposite side of the train from Rashelle's, which was part of my frustration. The rest was from my uncooperativeness and the fact that I was forced into this mess.

The door to my room came into view and I stopped, reaching out for the handle. I tried to turn it, but with my luck it didn't budge more than a fraction of a centimeter. I glared at it knob and jiggled it, but it still did not give way. Deciding I had no other option, I lifted my leg and kicked the door in. It swung wide, hitting the wall behind it, while barely managing to stay on its hinges. I trudged into my temporary living space, suddenly tired. I slammed the door behind me then slunk over to the bed, ignoring the pajamas that had been left on my dresser for me. I crawled under the covers and dozed off almost immediately, my worn out body sighing in relief.

(Michael's dream/memory thing :p)

I stared intently at the screen of the television as the tributes were raised from the ground into the arena. They came up at the same time, and my eyes went immediately to the District Eleven tributes. Mytik Tyrn and Quince Byrd, my cousin. It seemed like my family was chosen often, my father had been selected when he was twelve, but someone had volunteered for him.

The bell rang, signalling the start. My cousin was the first one to reach the Cornucopia, grabbing a flail, large backpack, and a pistol. By then he didn't have any more time to lose before the others caught him, so he ran towards the tree line to his right. Then the camera switched to a girl running towards the same tree line, and after a few minutes a lake appeared. Quince emerged from the trees first, eager to get water and go. However, he had failed to see the girl sneak out cover after him. As he bent over, I felt myself leaning closer to the TV. At the last second, when the girl pulled out a dagger and was about to lunge, she stepped on a twig. Quince spun around, noticed the dagger, and swung his fist out, connecting with the girls face. As she was sent sprawling on the ground, dagger flew in the air. He caught it, then threw it at the girl's throat. It thudded as it hit her, and the young girl's eyes glazed over as her last few breaths were raggedly released. A cannon sounded and the camera panned back around to my cousin's face. His look was one of deep sorrow.

Bending over, he searched the girl but found nothing other than the dagger and a flashlight. He rose slowly, sadness radiating from him. Suddenly a red splotch appeared on his chest and the head of a spear followed suit. Quince looked down, confused, then staggered forward and fell dead next to the girl he had killed only moments before. Looming behind him stood Mystik, looking evilly at the pair. She removed any valuable items then went on her way, two more cannons sounding.

I clenched my fists angrily. She killed my fifteen-year-old cousin. She would pay if she made it out alive.

(End of dream/memory thing)

I sat bolt upright in bed, panting, sweat dripping down my face. I took a deep breath, realizing it had only been a dream. A very vivid, horrifying one, but a dream nontheless.

I looked over at the clock on the nightstand next to my bed. 5:30am. We would arrive at the Capitol in six hours. I dragged my body out of bed and over to the window, yanking the curtains open. It wasn't even light outside! I groaned. Why did I have to be an early riser? I walked back over to my bed, then noticed a television set and I remote. I grabbed the remote and turned the TV on. The Reapngs were replaying. Of course.

I tried to focus, making mental notes about possible allies and enemies. Despite my efforts, my mind wandered, and I found myself falling asleep as the escort for District Seven gave his speech.

***

(Rashelle's POV)

My eyes opened slowly, a bright light shining on my face. I groaned then sat up, covering my face with my hand so I could see. I turned to find that the blinding light was coming from the windows, the curtains drawn back. Who had opened my curtains?

I stood up and walked slowly to the dresser in my room, my eyes now adjusted to the light. I noticed an outfit had been laid out again, and picked it up, then entered the bathroom and turned the shower on. Soon the room filled with steam and I stripped my clothes off and gingerly stepped into the warm water.

About an hour later, I was out of the shower with a towel wrapped snuggly around my body as I blow-dryed my hair. Somehow my hair managed to dry perfectly straight, whether on its own or with the hair dryer. I patted my head in various places checking for damp spots. When I found none, I set down the device then picked up a brush and ran through my hair one last time. My hair was as done as it was going to get this morning.

I grabbed the outfit I had set on the counter and discarded my towel, putting on my undergarments. I then slipped the comfortable green t-shirt and black shorts on, along with a jacket with 11 printed on the back in green on the back. The outfit was simple enough for me.

Whilst exiting the bathroom, my eyes wandered and came to rest on the clock. I groaned as I saw it was 8:30am. Our train would arrive at the Capitol in a few hours. I was not excited about that fact.

Figuring I had already missed breakfast, I decided to go to check on Mystik in the small infirmary onboard the train. I closed the door to my room and followed a few signs down the hall to the medical area. I arrived in front of a white sliding door, which opened as I walked up to it. I entered the infirmary to see a solemn looking doctor walking out ftom behind a closed curtain. Curiosuty got the best of me and I went over to the doctor. "Excuse me, but you seem very... Pensive. Would you mind me asking what seems to be the problem?" I asked him. He gave me an odd look, then shook his head. I frowned. "Well, then can I see my mentor, Mystik? She was brought here last night." The man's gaze softened and he motioned towards the gaze he had come from moments ago. "I'm sorry, miss, but Mystik passed away last night. She had a severe allergic reaction to something in the food she ate, but by the time we got to her it had already spread through her. There was nothing we could do. But, quite frankly, I don't see what could have caused such a reaction, or how it had managed to affect her so quickly," he stated somewhat thoughtfully. Interesting.

I nodded and murmured a "Thank you", then left the way I had come. I lost myself in my thoughts, and without realizing it crossed the other side of the train to the caboose, where there was a small balcony with a chair. I sat down, fully taking in the situation. Unless the Capitol sent a replacement, the District Eleven tributes would be entering the Hunger Games without a mentor.

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So... what do you (if anyone's reading this...) think? What happened to Mystik? Did Michael kill her? What's going to happen next...?

Vote/comment/fan :) Thanks!

~Kamaryn