The 49th Hunger Games

Reunion, Highlights and Final Interview

My eyes fly open and I gasp, trying to bolt upright but feeling a sore stab in my stomach as if someone punched me. I flop back down, panting, opening and closing my eyes. The last thing I remember is sobbing pitifully on the floor of a hovercraft, but that seems like a distant memory in the crevices of my twisted mind. My green orbs flicker around, unable to really take in the room I am in. The soft lighting, the feeling of immense claustrophobia, and the fact that I'm so cut off from the world outside makes me panic. Am I just going to be left here? Surely not, of course. Every other Victor of the Hunger Games was presentable and ready for their interviews within around a week. Maybe I did something wrong, and they're going to leave me here to starve. 

My chest is heaving with terror when another thing penetrates my conciousness. Wires. Wires in my left arm. My left arm. It's clean. Perfect. Shaved. Eyes widening, I tentatively lift my right arm and notice the nails. Cut, polished, fresh manicured. 

They haven't left me to die. I sigh with a small relief that doesn't really take much of a burden off my shoulders. I'm still here, in this room, waiting in limbo for God-knows-how-long and God-knows-what. I have nothing to do except lay here and stare at things without focus, trying to keep fear of the unimaginable future at bay. I could try yelling, but the lack of windows or even a door makes me accept that the reason is probably because the room is soundproof. So I lay. I cry a little. I play back the haunting memories of the Games over and over again, as if I'm being sat in front of a TV screen, my eyes taped open, forced to watch something I've already seen once, twice, thrice...

And I can't look away. I don't want to look but my mind keeps wandering, getting lost in what I want to forget. I now understand the previous 48 Victors before me. How they live with themselves is a mystery. The imprint of the pain and horror is like the kind of wound when, even if it heals, will always be vulnerable to reopening. My mind is as fragile as glass. A thin film that might or might not be there, the only thing protecting my sanity. 

Then, after a few hours, days, weeks, minutes or maybe seconds of half-conciousness, I finally slip back down again.

_____________________________________________________________________________

Another amount of time passes. I've been doing everything in a sort of dream-state, whether it be forcing down the one tiny meal that I was given, combing my hands through my soft, glossy hair, or just lying on the bed. Lying there forever. 

I wake up, possibly a few days later. This time I'm not restrained. My heart leaps and I lower my feet to the floor. I'm naked, I finally realise. How flattering. The change in me is too prominent. I can count my ribs, and can barely support myself with my arms and legs as I rise up like a stiff old woman. I want to cry, but I can't find the tears anymore. I can't muster up the effort to bring them. I'm fully awake now, the milky haze finally shattered, cleared away. I gulp as I see the clothes on the end of my bed, my stomach dropping as far as possible. My arena clothes.

I never thought I'd have to look at them again. Didn't want to. But I have to be strong. For Tiberius. For Wolf. For everyone I killed, and everyone I ever made a promise to. Including myself. So I slip them on without a complaint and keep my stony expression, not that I'd be able to do much else. I slump back on the bed, knowing the sliding wall will probably open in a few minutes, considering they probably have cameras to monitor me and will know I'm awake. 

When it does, it still somehow makes me jump and flinch. Embarrassed with myself, I stand up again, finding it to be even more effort this time. 

I end up in a hallway. Spacious, airy, but still somehow trapping. I look up, down, around. I close my eyes, take a deep breath through my nose. It smells like Capitol, basically. Posh, somewhat leathery, rich. Clean. Then I hear my name. The voice sparks recognition and my eyes light up as I turn towards the sound. There are 4 people. Standing in a chamber at the end of the hallway.