Hunger Games short stories/headcannons

Young Effie

Effie looked at her parents with wonder. How were these people so different than the people on the screen, and vice versa. 

Yes, there was the obvious, the people on the screen were killing eachother, but why weren't any of the people she knew doing that? Why did the people from her community just watch the killing. With joy? She turned to her mom, her eyes taking in every detail.

Her mom wore a fancy dress, had tattooed skin, and magenta hair. Her dad on the other hand had a gold streaks in his hair and too gold eyes. They weren't natural. She had seen her father without the gold eyes, and her mother without the colorful hair. Not that those other times were natural either, her parents had had green hair and purple eyes, white hair with pink stripes, eyes that glowed in the dark, and skin that sparkled. Nothing was natural.

Effie looked at herself. She had one blue streak in her long curly hair, and earings dotting her ears. Her lips were bright yellow from lipstick, but the rest of her hair was natural, as were her bright blue eyes. It was so strange to see her parents trying to be someone else. So strange to them to see her trying to be her. 

The people on the screen had brown hair, blonde, and sometimes black. Their skin was umarked, except for the occasional wound. They wore simple clothes. She kind of liked the idea of being simple. It seemed prettier, but to her it was alien, as foreign as the tumbling hills of the far away districts.

"Mom, why do those people look so... simple." She guessed that was the best word, it had no room for offense.

"Because, they are the poor and unpriveledged."

"What do you mean? And why don't we participate in the games?"

"Why... Do you want to be thrown in there and killed?" Her mother's voice sounded silly, too highpitched and fake. 

Fake. Fake. Fake.

"No. But who would?"

"They love it, Effie. They live for it! They live to entertain us."

"But mom they don't look happy."

"Not another word!"

"But mom, it's not fair for them to die!"

"They die for us!" Her mother shouted.

"What if I don't want them to die?!"

"Silence! Quiet, child." There was some sort of fear in her mother's eyes.

"But-"

Her mom cried out, grabbing her daughter's arm and running down the street. It was too late by the time Effie realized she was taking her to a tattoo parlor. Effie sat, wincing in pain and crying as they etched the word capitol into her shoulder. It was painful and unwanted. Unnatural. 

"Did you enjoy that?"

"No but--"

"Then you will never ask about the hunger games again, now watch, Effie, and enjoy." Her mother smiled, showing off a golden tooth.

"Enjoy?" 

"Enjoy the drama, the fighting, the Hunger Games!"

Effie didn't like the pain in her shoulder anymore than she liked the looks of these "Games," but there was nothing she could do except enjoy. Enjoy the games. Enjoy the suffering and learn to be one of the false people roaming the streets and living in her house.