For some reason, these alarms remind me of the gong that started the Games. I start screaming my head off, I'm obviously sweating. A team of doctors rushes in to calm me.
I don't belong her. I belong in District Seven. Please, please let me go back.
My thoughts melt like a Popsicle on a hot summer day back in District Seven, and my head is pounding.
The doctors reattach tubes to my arms. I reach down for my belt, feeling like I'm still in the Games. Short of breathe, I try to unlatch an axe that isn't there.
The doctors are frantic, telling me things like, "Calm down" and "It's okay" and "You're safe now, you're out of the Games, Johanna."
I start to relax and lay my head down.
I am fine. I am out of the Games. I am safe.
When they finally let me go get prepared for my crowning tonight, I maneuver around on my crutches to Yemenda and my prep team.
Yemenda is so excited to finally have a victor for her district. She blabbers about how "I've been a stylist for the longest time and we never have any Victors!" as she does my makeup. Pretty neatural.
The problem is getting my hair to work. They make me take a shower. I have to use an entire bottle of conditioner to get half the knots out of my hair. The prep team combs the rest out and then curl my hair.
My dress is green and brown, swirled together beautifully. Every stitch is perfect, and there are no straps. It's...beautiful.
They help me into it as I hold my foot up. My prep team steadies me and Yemenda pulls it on. It took hours and I still haven't seen Marie. Or Blight, I guess.
I hop over and grab my crutches. "Can I go see Marie?" I ask.
"Yes," Yemenda says. "She's back on your floor of the training center. Take the elevator over there." She nods towards the elevator I rode on so many times before the Games.
I make my way over and steady myself as I press 7 in it. The doors close immediately. Of course nobody else is using it...
When the elevator comes to a gradual stop, I wait for the doors to open. I'm so excited to see someone I like for once.
The doors slowly come open and I use my crutches to come out. I see a head popping up from behind the couch.
When I get myself over there, I can tell it's her. She stands up and turns towards me.
"Marie," I whisper and smile, so gently.
"Johanna," She whispers back, her eyes fill with tears.
I abandon my crutches and hug her with my one foot in the air. She starts to cry and I force myself not to. I tell her it's because I don't want to ruin my makeup, but it's more because I wouldn't be able to live it down if the crowd saw I was crying.
"I guess it's time to watch the Games thing and get crowned," I say unexcited.
"I know, honey. It won't be that bad," Marie says.
"I have to watch the Games all over again!" I wail. "And I think I've gone insane. The doctors say I'm not, but I feel like it."
She studies my face, concerned. "Well, what did you do?"
"I pulled at the restrains and they had to sedate me," I say, embarrassed. "Then they replaced the previous ones with metal restrains on my wrists and ankles."
"Oh, dear. I did that too. And speaking of your ankle, what happened?" She looks down at it.
I hold up the bandages. "I sprained it. Worst you can have. Completely torn."
She covers her mouth. "Oh."
We take a limo to some huge place. When I walk backstage and the prep team fixes my hair and makeup, I peak out to see the stage. A million seats, it seems, are there. And a stage with one cushioned chair. In the corner is a gigantic television where I'll watch about a week of Games summarized into 3 hours.
It's required viewing that I really don't want to see.
Baily is introduced. My prep team. Yemenda. Marie, who gets a lot of clapping. And finally, me. I take a deep breathe and walk onto the stage, smiling a fake smile and waving at the crowd. They scream and stomp and clap and throw flowers.
I sit down on the chair. A little girl, President Snow's granddaughter, comes out wearing a white dress and smiles at me. She's holding a white pillow with my solid gold crown on it.
President Snow walks out on stage and with his white gloves, he gently picks the crown up and places it on the top of my head, inches from my face, he smiles with his puffy lips and his snake eyes seem to stare right through me.
You don't scare me, bastard.
Everyone turns to the television when told to. It stays black, but white cursive pops up: The 68th Hunger Games, it says.
It shows the entire bloodbath. Escaping from Kirel and spraining my ankle. Then me hiding in trees, watching the District 11 tributes. Killing Amarack. Slow-motioning me watching me killing Kirel. Stalking her. The girl and boy from 11 dying. The camera zooms into the bears eyes and then I come back up, flipping out of the tree.
It shows our fight, brightened by the Capitol tech geeks. Finally, it shows Hensa on the ground, and me killing her with my axe in slow motion. My cheering in regular time. And then hopping on the hovercraft.
Last thing they do is show me waving goodbye to the cameras in slow motion. The whole video stops, and it looks like a picture, me waving and smiling. Then it turns gray.
The words: Johanna Mason, District 7. Victor of the 68th Hunger Games appear at the bottom of the screen. A leaf flies across the screen and zig-zags slowly towards the lens, getting larger. It finally takes over the entire screen and flies into blackness.
Chapter 13: The Victor
Start from the beginning
