A hovercraft appears in the sky above Newt and I, and I can see the word 'Berg' written across its side. I look at it with ill-disguised disgust. I want to go home, I do, but the thought of having to travel inside an aircraft made from the people who have killed twenty-two tributes makes me want to run in the opposite direction.
Two ladders drop from the 'Berg', one for me, and one for Newt. I take a hesitant glance at the boy whose arm is still slung around my body, holding me tight, his face drawn and pale with pain. I gulp and give a slight shudder before leading both of us onto the ladders, which both have an electrical current to glue us in position.
The door slams behind us, leaving a deafening ringing noise inside the hovercraft. The second we're both inside, a strong-looking middle aged woman who I don't recognise grabs Newt by the arms and pulls him forcefully away from me.
"Newt!" I protest, struggling against the tight bonds of the arms of the man who's now holding me back.
"Love-" he begins to try and argue, but the woman pulls him away into a different room, away from me, and both of them have disappeared now, as if he were a figment of my imagination.
The man releases me slowly, as if making sure I won't put up a fight, and I run towards the door that the woman pulled Newt through. I hit the door with my fists, again and again, but it refuses to open. I swivel around to face the man, and charge up to him. I'm so close to him I can see every grey hair in his dark beard, every crease in his otherwise pristine white Capitol attire.
"Where are you taking him?" I whisper, my voice dangerously low.
The man blinks. "The same place we're taking you. Back to the Training Centre."
I shudder, and think of being in the same building that held Alby and Harriet and Gally and Aris and everyone else mere weeks ago.
"When will I get to see him again?" I ask, my voice still soft.
"The presentation of the victors," the man says smoothly, and my stomach drops.
"But that's days," I mutter.
"I am aware," he replies. "In the meantime, drink this. I hear you like mint." He hands me a cup of warm mint tea that smells of artificial Capitol sweeteners. I raise the mug to my lips, and then release it on purpose, so it smashes onto the ground, shattering into tiny pieces. The Capitol man purses his lips, and his thinning hair shines with sweat.
"We weren't planning on doing this until the Training Centre, but I think the President would be willing to make an exception," he snaps, a hint of vicious hate present in his tone, and a sharp needle jabs me in the upper arm.
And I'm falling, falling into sleep without Newt beside me for the first time in days.
•••
When my eyes open, I don't recognise exactly where I am. I know I'm in the Training Centre, though, and the thought makes me feel sick.
I sit up shakily, and try to rub my arm, but there are half a dozen tubes stuck into the skin that lead into the wall beside me, plus a restraint around my middle. I push as many bedsheets as possible off my and lift my legs up, and to my complete surprise, the skin there is perfect, shining and smooth. I wiggle my toenails. Sure enough, the nails are a rosy shade of pink, trimmed in a way that only the Capitol can manage.
My arms are also bare, my skin perfect. I run my finger across my cheekbones and find them free of scars and dirt. My hair flows loose behind my head, clean, washed and silky, but I can't find my bronze ribbon anywhere.
I hunt around for it, on the desk by my bedside, around my pillow, but I can't see it anywhere, until a flash of bronze passes my eyes. I reach my hand out for it, almost lazily, and grab it, my fingers stroking the smooth fabric.
YOU ARE READING
The Tributes of Twelve | Newt x Reader
Fanfiction(y/n) (y/l/n). A girl from the Seam in District Twelve. She lives under the control of the Capitol with her father and younger brother Chuck. She has avoided the Hunger Games her entire life and has instead focused on putting food on her family's ta...
