PLATINUM • THE HUNGER GAMES ²

| 11. SEEKING THE SUNSET

BOOK TWO
CHAPTER ELEVEN

( SEEKING THE SUNSET )

THE STRONG HAZE OF SUNRISE ached my eyes as I traced my steps around the living quarters. The smell became familiar to me; the rich and expensive taste of Atlanta's perfume mixed in well with the new scent of furniture varnish. I couldn't stop my self from thinking about the past. James' smile, Bella's laugh, Freya's shyness: every feeling came flooding back to my head within seconds of each other. My changing furred jumpsuit at the Tribute Parade. The way he held my hand so tightly. By the end, my head was spinning uncontrollably, forcing me to sit down and take a long breath.

I scrunched my body up into a compact little ball as I rested. Sweat was trailing down from my hairline to the edge of my brow. My breathing slowly became irregular and my heart beat out of my chest, wildly attempting to pump some blood around my body.

Suddenly, I felt a brush of skin against my forehead. It was soft, caring to the touch. Although, my head stayed down, for whosoever wished to speak to me was not of any value to my current state.

Moments after, a force placed itself down adjacent to my head on the sofa and my body bopped up and back again like a ripple effect coursing through a motionless river. The touch returned once more, spreading it to my dampened cheeks and wiping away any source of tears that had appeared by my eyes. I remained still however, almost frightened as to what the person was going to say to me.

"Hey."

I instantly recognised the voice as Bradley's, but, this time, it was unusually delicate. It was as if he was carrying around a precious artefact, and that he was to scared to even hold it in his arms. Truthfully, it was like he was too scared to hold me.

"I love you, Sil'. You know that right?" He asked, stroking the strands of my hair that had landed in front of my eyes. His voice sounded croaky - hungover - as his lips formed those words. I could already see his bloodshot eyes and untidied hair without looking at his face. His words purely screamed guilt, and his actions fully supported it too.

"I want to go home," I whispered, humming underneath my irregular beats of breathing.

"I know," he said. Leaning further back into the plumpness of the sofa pillows and yawning as he did so, his hand removed itself from its position on my forehead and hugged my shoulders, placing my head gently on his lap.

We both lay there for minutes in a strong silence. It was as if we both knew exactly what the other was feeling. Except, I couldn't fathom what was circulating inside of his mind since last night on the train. He'd snap at the strangest of moments and his temper would boil up into an angered rage. We were two emotional messes that had been through the worst of times, but the most important thing was that we were still alive.

❂ ❂ ❂ ❂ ❂ ❂ ❂ ❂

The sun had completely risen by the time Bradley decided to pick up the conversation again, the story he told sending me into a daze of a well needed sleep. I felt his breath on my back as he talked, the rotten scent of alcohol entering my nose. Sensing that overwhelming pain and sorrow across my Mentor's body, I lifted my eyes to meet his. His blue irises were surrounded a bloodshot red and underneath hung a thick layer of black. It showed a swollen texture to it that truthfully frightened me. Bradley had been hurting himself too much recently, forcing his body through the worst time schedule and half starving himself to provide for Corey and I's recent needs. He wasn't the oldest, nor the youngest, so he, having no alternative, ranked himself as the main worker in the family. Maybe, that courage eventually proved to be his downfall.

With a smile, he said once more, "Don't ever forget that I love you, Silver."

"I won't." I returned his gesture, sitting myself up against his arm instead of laying across the sofa. "I promise."

"Good."

In the corner of my eye, facing away from Bradley, I spotted Atlanta and Saffra entering the room. They're faces appeared worried as they stepped forward, decreasing the distance between them and us. I sat up when Bradley realised that they were here too, removing myself from his arms and standing up to face them.

Atlanta coughed momentarily, prior to saying, "We've got to move. Fleur is waiting for you, Silver."

"Does anyone know where Corey is?" Saffra asked, switching her eyesight around the room to search for him.

"He should be in his room," Bradley responded, setting his hand underneath his chin, supporting it by resting his elbow on the arm of the sofa. Atlanta nodded before waltzing away towards that direction to retrieve my fellow Tribute.

Saffra signalled me to follow her out of the room. Her hand clasping my upper back as she directed me to the elevator across from us. She grinned at me whilst she walked beside me, strangely more reserved than usual and pulled away her expression almost immediately after I had seen it.  To be honest, there had been an unusual aura to the Capitol since we arrived that night. I couldn't quite find the source of it all.

Once we'd met our destination, she pushed me aside into a familiar room, which white and blue curtains contained me. Two figures emerged from behind them, their postures uptight, covered with fancy materials I could only match with a Capitol style, and their smiles were beaming too. It was, none the less, a far more cheery sight than Saffra's welcoming look.

Not long after, I was back again on that table where I lay no less than two years before. My body fashioned a short medical looking robe which hung just above my knee and my hair sprawled out around my face.

As they lay me down on the chrome surface, I heard Fleur sigh. "Silver. Only if you were as pretty as your name."

"The dye's gone from her hair. Re-colour it. Darker," Magenta added, picking the strands of it above my head. "Add some permanent extensions to the ends too; it's short."

"Snow said 'nothing drastic'," Fleur huffed in response, covering my legs in some sort of liquid. "She's fifteen years old."

I watched as the other rolled her eyes in response, shaking her head too.

"It's not," she stated matter-of-factly, plucking something off of my face in a hurry. Magenta's nose scrunched up her facial features as she battled with Fleur on who had the right to change my appearance. In truth, I was intrigued by the conversation, but, ultimately, I kept my eyes away from their's and tried to think about something entirely different.

During the course of my makeover, a wide range of vocabulary was exchanged between the two as they ripped away and added parts to my body. My legs were waxed, eyebrows filled, hair extended and they'd even tried to add some form of makeup to the scar on my waist. That was until I started to screech in pain. By the end of the three hours they had, using my figure as a blank canvas, I felt like a shaved sheep.

A smile was shared between Fleur and Magenta once they were done with me and they both signalled me to stand before them.

Fleur announced in delight, "You look beautiful, Silver."

"For once," Magenta scoffed. Her statement threw off my focus for a short time, but I eventually ignored it.

As I left their company, the only thing I dreaded about the remainder of the day was the Tribute Parade. The first proper time I would see all 22 of my competitors.

❂ ❂ ❂ ❂ ❂ ❂ ❂ ❂