❝LIFE IS A GAME. AND I'VE ALREADY TAUGHT YOU HOW TO PLAY❞
𓆩⟡𓆪
[Two Years Prior]
THE COLD AIR sent shivers down her spine as her hands carefully lifted the dropper. "Remember, just a single drop," Dr. Gaul instructed from a distance as she stood behind the protective glass separating them. Even while divided by a barrier, Dolores still felt herself tense from the heat of the doctor's piercing gaze, almost as if watching for every twitch of her body and every fated mistake.
Dolores ordered her hands to cease its trembling as she peered into the glass tube in her other hand, the bluish gray chemical bubbling. Silently, she lowered the tip of the pipette below the rim, pushing her face close but not too close in order to precisely allow one drop to make contact.
The liquid swelled, bubbling and rising to the brim. It secreted a colorless smoke, floating out of its container and washing over her hands. The material of the gloves tight against her skin shifted, tightening and eventually, consumed by the chemical. An icy chill pierced through her hands, a sudden, jolting pain that caught her off guard. Glass shattered against the floor.
"Again," Dr. Gaul clicked her tongue with disapproval. "You held it wrong."
"How so?" Dolores uttered through gritted teeth, gripping her own shaking hand to relieve the burning sensation within her skin. The smoke overflowed the container no matter how she turned it. "You don't allow me to use the lab equipment to hold it in place. Why?"
"Because for a creation to be truly successful, you must feel its pain."
First it was Professor Demigloss nitpicking every little thing in her warfare essay, and now Dr. Gaul. The stinging pain of her hands certainly didn't contribute to her unsteady emotions as well. She rolled her eyes, "I've already felt the pain, isn't this enough?" It was bad enough that she had to skip almost the entirety of her lunch each day just for her mentor to pester her within this lab.
"Enough?" Dr. Gaul's eyes narrowed, "You call this enough?" Anger flashed across her face. "When I say 'again', I mean 'again', Ms. Imber."
"I've perfected it, have I not? To reach the exact effects you demanded it do."
She held her piercing gaze firmly for a few seconds before Dr. Gaul laced her nimble fingers together, "Very well. Test it, then. But mark my words, it is nothing of perfection."
"Only when it is tried can it take a closer step towards perfection," Dolores argued, joining her mentor behind the protective glass barrier. Her hands fluttered over the control panel, watching as a metal panel rose from the floor.
"No."
"No?" She tilted her head, confused.
"You test with something different this time." Instead of the metal, a coiled serpent rose on a pedestal, centered in a tight fitting cage. Its scales were stunning, gleaming below the lab lights. Its fork tongue flicked indignantly while its golden eyes stared into her's. "Alive."
"That's against the lab protocol."
"I write the lab protocol, Mr. Imber."
Dolores gulped, her gaze flitting between her mentor and the snake. It watched her back, the blackness of its eyes cold against her skin. This was a test, like many before, and she could not afford to falter.
"Tick-tick-tock. Time is wasting."
Its coils writhed, hissing and spitting, but it was locked in place so it could not launch itself in an attack. The serpent's long body twisted from side to side as she slowly, quietly stepped towards it. Her eyes burned into its eyes, a silent stare off that made her stomach churn.
The panels beneath her hand flashed a glowing aquamarine, signaling that all equipment was ready. The small glass vial gleaned beneath the fluorescent lab lights. The lid popped, clattering down on the pale interior testing ground, while the fog poured. It floated down, seeping within the cracks of its scales and enveloping the serpent till all she saw was smoke within the container. In her blindness, the cage clattered.
Dr. Gaul stood watching, the faintest hint of a smile on her lips with satisfaction. "Now."Its mouth opened wide, releasing a piercing screech, revealing its sharp, needle-like teeth. Its body thrashed against its confinement, and a sickening crack echoed as the vial shattered in a million pieces.
The sound of shattering glass ricocheted off the walls, and Dolores stumbled backwards, gripping the panel tightly to steady herself. The snake continued to writhe and flail, its body twisting and scales scraping against the cage like nails on a chalkboard. The serpent's teeth snapped and bit, and its voice rose to a hiss of pain. Its body spasmed, twisting and turning as the chemical burned within. Then, the serpent began to grow. Bones popped and the cage shook as the creature grew larger, burnished scales cracking and splintering into dull gray.
"Shh, watch," Dr. Gaul hummed. "You forget, Ms. Imber, for a creation to be successful, the creator must be able to destroy their own creation— to control it."
A cold sweat ran down Dolores' back, but she refused to shiver. Her hands gripped the edge of the control panel so hard that she could feel her nails cutting into the skin.
"No," Dolores whispered, unable to tear her eyes away. "Stop." Her hands fumbled for the controls, pressing on the gray button and drawing the chemical away, then moving to the typing pad to input commands. The drain opened from down below, swallowing both her creation and the thrashing creature within darkness. A bead of sweat rolled down her head.
She could feel her own rapid heartbeat as she stumbled back, her mind still reeling from what she just witnessed. God, it was cruel. But not for her mentor.
"Weapons are made for war, Mr. Imber. Not puppies and kittens," Dr. Gaul said blankly.
"War against what?" She snapped. "Panem is at peace!" Why must more suffer? She couldn't even picture the sight of molten flesh on the skin and the shrieks elicited from a human mouth.
"The very existence of peace is a lie. It is only the calm that exists before the onslaught of chaos. It is only the silence before the war. You know the very truth, Ms. Imber. For there to be light, there must be darkness. For there to be dark, there must be light. War and peace. Pain and pleasure. They are two sides of the same coin— You..." Her eyes darkened as she stalked right up to her, "Speak without thinking."
"Yet when there is peace, it should be cherished— not exploited."
"Have you stopped to think of why there is peace?"Dolores stood stock still as Dr. Gaul leaned in close, the smell of smoke and blood wafting from her skin almost suffocating her. "War is a necessity. Peace cannot be had without a weapon that creates destruction." Her expression was like stone, and she stood straight, her shoulders thrown back and her eyes focused ahead. "Tell me... do dogs bite, Ms. Imber?"
Dolores stood frozen, her breath caught in her throat. "They do."
"And why do they bite?"
"Because they are scared?"
A delighted laugh erupted from Dr. Gaul. "Ah yes. And people bite too, Ms. Imber. Don't you think so?"
"No..." Dolores responded, but her mouth was dry. She swallowed, and her breathing became shallow.
"No?" Dr. Gaul repeated, her teeth gleaming in the silver light. "Then why do soldiers stab and shoot at each other on the field of battle?"
The memory flashed through her mind once more, the snake's shrieks echoing through the air. The images danced in her head, the screams, the pain... a wave of nausea hit her stomach. She stared blankly past the protective glass, to the spot where the serpent had been tortured. "Because they want power over others," Dolores found herself saying through the ringing in her ears, "Everybody wants to rule the world."
A low chuckle sounded from the doctor, the sound reverberating off the lab's walls. "Such a naive answer– though I suppose you are not in the wrong. Power, Ms. Imber, is life. We live for it, and we will die for it. It is as natural as the feeling of water on your skin. But people also fight for self-preservation..." she trailed off, her calculating eyes settling on Dolores, "Soldiers fight to protect something within them... or someone."
"War fails to preserve anything. Such power is a mere illusion!"
"Its very existence disproves your statement," Dr. Gaul said coldly. "Power," her voice was razor-sharp, like shards of broken glass, "Is the ability to destroy someone or something, to take all away. And the ability to rule. But at certain times..." She leaned closer, her words dripping like poisoned honey, "It guarantees survival. You and I are not so different– both searching for power."
"I have no need to destroy or take anything," Dolores scoffed.
"Wrong again," She tsked, waving a finger in her direction. "How can you live in such ignorance when you have borne the scars of war upon your flesh?"
The lab whirled around her. The sounds were muffled in her ears and that familiar taste of iron flooded her tongue. Fire, smoke, earth, blood. The Dark Days. Knives, hunger, guns, scars. Her fingers clawed into the rough surface of the metal panels. "Shouldn't times of peace guarantee the development of intelligence and morality more than the constant study of warfare?" She whispered hoarsely.
Dr. Gaul's eyes gleam with cold fury. "Do you believe people will be good? Humans are not inherently benevolent, Ms. Imber! War breeds advancement. Without it, technology would stagnate... medicine would regress... even basic science would not advance! Holding a gun and refusing to shoot... that's just like you."
Perhaps what she said was true. But what reason would there be to shoot if there were no one deserving of a bullet? Dolores peeled her white lab coat from her body, slipping it onto the nearest rack. "If there is nothing left to say, then I will be returning to the Academy early."
"You, Ms. Imber, are hereby expelled from the Academy until a year of service has been completed."
Dolores knew she wasn't joking this time. Her heart dropped to the pits of her stomach and horror overtook her mind. Expelled? That single word was enough to shatter her world. "This is what you would condemn me to? You wish to send me off to some remote district? To become a soldier, to be a pawn on your board? Why?"
"You lack strength, resolve, and all that is needed for a leader of Panem. I mustn't allow your foolish ideals to run untamed," her mentor replied as if it were something simple to say.
Dolores felt her throat close up. Dr. Gaul had never been one to tolerate her questioning, but this was not just a mere rejection of any sort of advancement. This was a complete abandonment of her morals. Her mind spun, trying to cling onto a single solution. Perhaps there was a small chance her mentor would consider a counteroffer... but the words lodged in her throat. She had no leverage. "So be it," she hissed.
"One of my assistants will handle the paperwork. Just get on before the last train leaves this evening."
Without another word, she stormed out of the lab and into the hallway. The indifference in Dr. Gaul's voice was as sickening as always. Tears pricked at her eyes though she tried to fight them back. She wasn't weak, and she wasn't going to start now. The hallways remained eerily quiet, as if the cold, uncaring building itself mocked her pain. The lights above glared mockingly down; their silvery gleam reflected her pale, anguished expression.
She did not have much to pack. Nothing she could take from this hideous, glamorous place could console her. The weight of her next class seemed to barely reflect the new burden upon her shoulders. Dolores was a student. Not a soldier. Yet it wasn't her choice. There was never a choice.
So she picked up her heart and mind and indignantly marched off towards her final class.
. . .
[Present]
"THERE YOU ARE. I knew you wouldn't run off after a little temper tantrum." Dr. Gaul didn't bother looking up from the colored reptile she held in her hands.
"Go ahead. Expel me," Dolores eyed the woman, "It's only fair, right? After I attacked the Head Gamemaker. I'm sure the president won't take it if I become another exception to many of the rules already broken during my time in the Academy."
"Expel? The president won't even hear of this. I have this entire situation under wraps," Dr. Gaul laughed, dragging a chair beside her, the metal legs scraping across the polished floor. She patted the seat, shooting her a sharp glance of order before continuing, "Sit, I'm pleased. You," her index finger tapped against Dolores's forehead, "have demonstrated the perfect success of my handiwork."
She flinched from her cold touch, unable to fight the grimace on her face. Her lips were knit together in silence as every muscle in her body tensed. The Head Gamemaker simply smiled before suddenly grabbing her hand. "What—" A sharp pain shot through her body as her slender fingers pressed against the fresh wound on her hand.
"Shh!" Dr. Gaul snapped, refusing to release her grip, watching as blood soaked through, tinting the white makeshift bandages wrapped firmly around her hand. "You need stitches."
Dolores gritted her teeth, yanking her hand free, "I'll get them later."
"Foolish girl," her blue eye stared straight into her soul, "Sit."
She obeyed begrudgingly, careful to sit on the center of the chair, no matter how much her body screamed to back away– she couldn't afford to let Dr. Gaul see that she was afraid. "What do you want?"
"Stay," the Head Gamemaker stated simply as she released her hand at last and reached for a small white kit.
"If I stay you'll either give me up to the wolves or put a gun in my hand. Why should I?" Dolores gulped, suddenly conscious of the white walls looming around her and the stagger in Dr. Gaul's steps– an aftereffect of the sedative perhaps. Should she really let her stitch up her wound? What if she did something to it?
"Shame. You've already received a diploma in that elite officer's school. Can't send you back to the Districts," The needle jabbed into her skin. Compared to Dr. Gaul's hazed movements earlier, her hands were now completely steady– freezing cold like the touch of death, and strangely soothing. It made her nostalgic of the past– the days when the doctor stitched up the wounds of a young girl in her office.
She looked around the Head Gamemaker's personal office in the Hospital. Nothing had changed. The last time she had been here was after she was honorably dismissed by the Military Academy with perfect scores. The youngest person to ever complete elite officer's school. Placed a gun in the hands of a girl younger than seventeen and demanded that she witness the bloodshed in the Districts as a part of her "education". A year later, she was sent right back to the Academy... like nothing had happened.
It was a part of her mind Dolores had done everything to lock up. There was one thing she would never miss and it was the feeling of her finger around the trigger as screams filled the air, the singing of jabberjays etched into her heart as citizens of Panem were unrighteously hanged. And afterward the soldiers would kindly pat her on the back as she mustered up a weak smile and tell her that they had done the right thing. "Saves us a lot of trouble."
She remembered the scorching vomit in the pits of her stomach, throwing up after seeing the snapped necks and mangled bodies. The stinging scent of gunpowder and the crackling of gunfire. The roaring of her ears as she, one of the Peacekeepers of District 8, slammed open the doors of innocents, barking words of order as her fellow soldiers ransacked the neatly organized rooms for evidence until all that's left was ruin. It was either the lavish sins of the Capitol or the cruel murders in the Districts. Neither were the better options.
No one in the Capitol knew of the lessons Dr. Gaul had given her.
Dolores hissed as the needle prodded her skin, "I don't mind. Anywhere is better than here." She bit spitefully. She searched her face for a reaction, holding her breath.
Dr. Gaul's eyes narrowed and she tightened her grip on her wounded hand, "I thought you had learned a lesson, Dolly. Didn't you tell me of the horrors of the world– how they fuel your passion to succeed? You know I despise liars the most. Liars are weak because of the truth they deny. I did not teach you to be weak, little girl." She wrapped her hand firmly, to the point of suffocation, "Outside the Capitol, the world is vicious. The Hunger Games are necessary to maintain order."
"The Hunger Games are petty solutions to a bigger problem," She tore her hand back, resting it on her lap and carefully shifting it to not touch the stitches. She hated being at Dr. Gaul's mercy, or being the recipient of her attention. "They don't fix anything in this broken world. They only invoke fear and unrest."
"And fear is a weapon. The greatest weapon of them all," Dr. Gaul spoke roughly, "You felt it too, didn't you? As the bombs rained down around you and you scrambled, grasping for a reason to survive," she leaned back, a wicked smile stretched across her features. "But you did survive– instead of that... boy. Life is a game, Dolly, and I've already taught you how to play. I will not be here forever, but you will be, after me."
I won't become like you– I swear it, she silently told herself as felt herself drawn into the doctor's eyes. Captivated and killed by the poison swirling in the depths of that seemingly beautiful blue eye. Dolores tore her eyes away, ignoring the chill in her bones with a neutral expression plastered over her face. She felt wary of the foreboding statement. "Choose someone else. I want nothing to do with the games."
"The reason," Dr. Gaul's voice stopped her before Dolores could get to the door. "The reason I saved you that night. When Crassus Snow first approached me with the idea of the Hunger Games, I deemed it as incredulous. But only after witnessing the flame of survival burn so brightly in a child brimming with supposed innocence, the crimson of blood painted over your gaunt, pale cheeks and yet you still looked beautiful. You inspired me, Dolly. To create the games. In the arena which we call the world, you were the winner."
Her heart banged against her chest, her fingers wrapped tightly around the handle of the door. Dolores refused to turn around, refused to take in the diagram of the office she once saw as where she could feel enveloped with safety. Keeping her voice from shaking, she removed the words lodged in her throat, "The games must die."
A beat of silence passed... and she could practically feel Dr. Gaul's eyes burning into the back of her head, impossible to read. Silent words of disappointment littered the space in between them. No, Dolores refused to be the victor in her games. If anything, she would be the one to destroy them. "How will you do that, child?" The Head Gamemaker simply smiled cheerfully. Her haunting words trailed behind her as she exited the room. "You should beware of who to trust, Dolly."
Dolores stared at the closed office door for a long moment. All she felt was apprehension, suspicion, and fear blurred up in a large bundle and dumped on her head. But what... was she exactly afraid of?