The loud cheers from the crowd are still echoing in my head even after I have been taken into isolation from the rest of the District. As I wait in the Justice Building, the reality of everything officially sinks in. I will be going into the arena, alongside 23 others, and we will fight to the death. It doesn't hit me until this moment that I have never actually killed a human, just decoys. I assume that it isn't too different, because the decoys in The Fray are made to resemble the human body to an exact science.
My thoughts are interrupted by the golden-rimmed door that flies open into the room, my father following it. I can sense something is off as soon as I see his expression, and I immediately ask, "Where's Mom?" He is trying to catch his breath, almost as if he had ran here without pacing himself. He shakes his head and my heart slowly begins to sink as if weights were tied to it. The fear in my chest that has built up causes my voice to crack when I ask again, "W-Where's Mom?"
The hesitation that glosses my father's lips, sends chills down my spine. "Carmen, you have to win," is all that he can say and I know something has gone wrong. In the back of my head, I try to retrace the last time I saw my mother. I don't remember seeing her in the crowd after I was reaped, but I do remember her giving me one last hug before she went into the section roped off for the parents of potential tributes. The shine of her hair in the beaming rays of sunlight as she walked away from me still stays with me in this moment. "Where is she, where is Mom?" The anxiety in my tone is causing my hands to tremble at my side.
My father takes a deep breath before speaking, "Your mother is okay, but the Peacekeepers are only letting one parent say their farewells this year. It's some new rul-"
The reflexes in my body send my hand directly to my fathers' shirt, grasping a chunk of the cloth in my hand and holding it in a fist. "Do not lie to me, I'm not buying it!"
The look on my father's face is filled with shock and potentially a tint of embarrassment. He puts his own hand over my fist that is still gripping onto his shirt with all of my strength. I threaten him with my eyes that are piercing through his soul at this point. That is when the gunshot sounds and with that, my hand drops from his shirt. The expression on both of our faces are of great fear and a haunting sense of paranoia looms in the room. Could that be her?
I have no time to react, I have to quickly process what I want to do, which is make a B-line for the door and hunt down my mother. That plan is interrupted by the two Peacekeepers that enter with their robotic ways of movement. Each of them grabs one of my father's arms and begins to pull him away from me. "Times up," says one of them.
My natural instincts force me to reach for my father and hold on to him. I need answers and I won't get them unless I pry them out of him. The Peacekeepers have almost succeeded in dragging him out of the room until I lunge myself onto my Dad, causing them to drop him. I wrap my arms around him, making it near impossible for the Peacekeepers to lift him up.
"Where is she!" I scream, holding onto his body as if I was suctioned to him. He lets out a cry, almost sounding like a wounded animal.
The gloves of a Peacekeeper wrap around my shoulders, forcefully pulling me back off of my father. I try to lunge forward, towards him again, but I find myself being held back. I squirm around on the floor, watching one of the Peacekeepers pull my frantic father out of the room by the collar of his shirt. I can hear him yelling as if he had been injured, but he is too far out of reach for me to do anything. My mothers' possible death stabilizes in my mind as the door meets the door frame. I allow my heated body to lay back on the floor, and my eyes to close. I try to cancel out any negative thoughts, but they are too abundant to ignore at this point.
I lay there for what feels like 5 minutes, then I make myself get up. I notice that I am in here alone, so the Peacekeeper that was holding me back must have escaped while he could, which was probably smart on his part. I wouldn't want to be in a room alone with a pissed-off girl from District 2 who just volunteered to enter the Hunger Games either. My thoughts shift back and forth from my mother to the Hunger Games for a few more moments until I see the door begin to open. I don't know if it is hopeful thinking or some sort of manifestation but, "Mom," is what escapes my mouth.
However, it is not my mother that enters the room with me, it's Deco Talli. Her platinum blonde hair lightens the atmosphere and is very misleading once I notice the look painted on her face. The door shuts behind her as she lets' her ponytail swing back and forth, headed my way.
"What's going on there, Carmen?" She asks, with a smirk that slowly appears on her face. She speaks to me in the most sarcastic tone, "You're going in, Congratulations girl!"
Confusion bubbles up inside of me, and I try to make sense of the situation. I have no idea why she is here, or why she was allowed in here? We were never anything more than helping hands to each other at times when it came to practicing at The Fray. I've never spoken to her once outside of that building, so why is she here, and why is she acting like this? It doesn't make sense, none of this makes sense.
"I'm here to help you because if you want to be the best, you've got to beat the best." She says, and that's when she reaches from behind her. She moves quickly as she raises a gleaming dagger into the air, sending it down in my direction. I have to think fast, bolting to my right to avoid getting stabbed and making sure that I keep my eyes locked on her. She turns over to me after she misses, and charges at me with the force of a bull. I scream for help, trying to get the nearby Peacekeepers' to hear me in hopes that they can put an end to her. With nothing to defend myself, I instinctively go for her legs, trying to avoid a knife in the neck.
I feel a sharp pain above my right eyebrow, and I know she got me, sending killer pains through my nerves. The impact of us clashing sends the knife spiraling out of her hand and into the air, planting itself into the laminate wall. Blood covers my face, and I can start to taste the metallic reminder of failure as I manage to pick myself up off the ground and bolt for the knife. I am about halfway through the room when a hand grabs my ankle, sending me to the floor, yet again. That's when I feel Deco's teeth sink into my back as I am pounced on top of.
A shriek escapes my mouth begging to be heard as I push myself up off the ground and roll over, stabilizing myself. Deco and I leap at each other with great force around the same time, causing us to break out into a wrestling brawl. At times I feel her beginning to overpower me, but then I force myself to find the strength to meet her level of aggressiveness. Fingernails clawing at each others' faces, fists exchanging blows to one another's chins, and blood from my forehead mixed with the blood from our newly-fresh open wounds paint the floor in a vibrant red. The power shifts that occur in the room are consistent and completely fluid as we take turns weakening each other.
The blood from my forehead has gathered in my eye, resulting in temporary blindness, making my task of coming out of this alive even harder. Deco rolls over on top of me, locking her hands around my throat. She puts all of her pressure down on my neck, cutting off my supply of air. As I struggle to push her off me, in a last-ditch effort I take my fist to her temple causing her to tumble over to the side. I think to myself, "This is my chance," as I hastily rise from the ground and dart for the knife. The rate of my heart is skyrocketing, but I am relieved to not feel the grasp of death around my ankle this time around. It doesn't take me long to pull the knife out of the wall, and then pounce onto Deco as she struggles to get up, forging the dagger into her chest.
The adrenaline in my body dies down and the effects of me almost choking set in as I use my knee to pick myself up off the ground. I look down at Deco, as her staggered breathing eventually turns into a motionless corpse. I try to time my breaths as I rub my neck where I was pinned down, still tasting the iron in my blood.
"In, out, In, out." This is what I tell myself in an attempt to normalize my breathing, but it doesn't seem to be helping. Instead, I lose my sense of sight as my body collapses to the stone-cold floor.
-★-
The searing pain from my forehead catapults my body into a sitting position on a bed that is not my own. The window that is displayed in front of me tells me that I am on a train, in motion. I watch the trees disappear quickly from one side of the window seal to the other, and then I remember that this is not a dream. My name is Carmen Delano. I am 17 years old. I volunteered for The Hunger Games. I have no idea where my mother is. I already have my first kill.
"I knew you'd wake up before we got to the Capitol," a deep voice says from behind me. I try to jerk my head over to see who it belongs to until I am reminded that I was choked, sending a shooting pain throughout my neck. "Who is it?" I ask, trying to imagine a face that matches the voice. I have made out the fact that it is a male, and that's when he appears in the peripheral vision of my eye. Brutus, a man with the stature of a giant, places his hand on my shoulder. Brutus is one of the mentors for District Two and a previous victor of the Hunger Games, winning his games by his undeniable wits and brutality. Brutus' gameplay was referenced often, ever since I can remember, at the Academy of Warriors. He is definitely marked as one of the best to ever play, and many argue that he is indeed the greatest.
"Killing someone before you're even in the arena.. you've caught my attention," Brutus says in a condescending, yet soothing tone. His hand leaves my shoulder as he finds himself a cushioned chair and slouches down into it before he begins to speak to me again, "You've got potential."
I allow myself to thank him before I begin to question him, starting with, "Do you know what happened to my mother?" My eyes lock with his as the look expressed on his face is one I have familiarized with, confusion.
"I have no idea what you're talking about, darling." He says, with a hint of sarcasm that makes me sick to my stomach.
"Something is wrong, my father wouldn't tell me anything. Almost like he was scared... to be honest with me," I explain to Brutus, shifting my eyes from his and the window, trying to make out where I am, looking for similarities in the terrain.
"As I said, I know nothing." He gets up and walks over to me, examining the different cuts and bruises that lay across my face. I wince in pain every time he touches an open wound.
"You need to be ready for the cameras very soon, we're almost at the Capitol," Brutus says, letting his hand fall back to his side and then walking out of the limitations of my current vision status. However, I hear him call for someone to assist him in 'fixing' me. I decide not to take offense to the terminology and allow him to say whatever because I will need him in the arena.
Brutus leaves the room for a while and eventually comes back with his hands full of different ointments and creams. He instructs me to take a capsule of morphling to ease the pain, and I don't fight his orders. After my entire face has been covered in Panem's finest line of medicinal help, I allow myself to relax as the pain diminishes. Brutus sits back down into the chair that he previously sat in, and waits with me, trying to spark up small-talk that I do not entertain. After the first couple of attempts, he calls me an "uptight momma's girl" and leaves the room for a couple of minutes, his comment fills me with anger but I'm in too much pain to fight with him. I'm glad he leaves because it gives me time to rest my eyes again.
Once I feel confident enough to get up, I do so and Brutus escorts me to a larger room on the train that catches my breath away. The beauty of the golden tipped chairs that match the curtains that are draped over the shimmering silver window seals is simply stunning. The elegant display of food has more desserts than I thought even existed. I walk through the glorious room and admire the luxurious carpet that softens the sounds of my footsteps. I glance forward and then catch the eyes of Malo, eyeing me down from the comfort of the dining table he sits at, which is calling my name.
"You're alive." He says, letting a grin show on his face.
"Yeah, get used to it." I wittily respond, with a flair of lightness.
He laughs at my remark and then stands up from his chair, holding his hand out to me as if he wants me to grab it. I'm not sure where he is going with this but I place my hand into his own, and that's when he lifts it up and plants a kiss on the back of my hand. I wasn't expecting this, but I suppose it's a nice gesture. I can't tell if it's a strategy on his end to reel me in before the arena so that my guard is down so that he can send an arrow through my heart, but whatever it is... it isn't working. "Thank you, kind sir," is what I say.
That's when I see the tall, yet striking, Vivian Beyon. She is another one of District Two's victors, winning her games by using nightlock to poison the tips of her arrows, sending lethal injections into her victims. She has darker skin complexions that complement her sleek black hair that she wears in a high ponytail. She also speaks with an accent that I can not place, but it is not like everyone else from District 2. I gravitate towards her though, and have always admired her growing up.
"Malo, you'll be with me." She says, and I am immediately upset because out of her and Brutus I would take her any day. Malo lifts up his hand and she meets it, "High five!" He says.
"You're with me, little girl," Brutus says, lingering behind me, causing me to jolt around.
"I'm not your little girl, so drop it." I blurt out, cutting through his ego. I can feel the room fall silent, almost as if I had crossed a line.
"Watch it. You shouldn't be trying to bite the hand that will feed you." Brutus snaps back, reminding me that he will be in charge of any sponsors that I receive. I hate that he can hold that over me, it's not fair.
I dismiss myself from the group and go back into the room that I woke up in, finding a mirror hanging on the wall similar to the one I have back at home. I just now realized that I am in a completely different dress than I was wearing at the Reaping. I am assuming the bloodstains were way too blatant to try and cover up so they must've decided that it would be easier to just completely redress me. A stomach-curdling feeling comes over me that Brutus was the one who changed me. I hope not and then try to forget about the whole thing.
Malo's voice speaks to me from the doorway, "Hey, you okay?" He says in a humble tone, walking over to my side. I give him an assuring nod, that isn't too genuine. I am not okay, at all. He doesn't need to know that though, because showing emotion is a weakness. That has been drilled into my head my entire life, and I'm not giving in to his nice guy act.
"Ya know, I'm going to have your back through this whole thing," Malo tells me, and I want to believe him but I don't. He makes me feel uneasy, almost like I know that I can't control him. He's strong, charming, and everything he does feels calculated. However, maybe if I'm nice enough to him he will spare me during the first few crucial days.
"I will have your back too, District Two strong," I say, as I turn away from the mirror and face him. He has found a place on the wall to lean his back against.
"Yeah, District Two strong," he replies.
The room remains silent as we size each other up, not speaking, letting our eyes do the talking. I am about to excuse myself to use the restroom when the sound of a crowd can be heard cheering and chanting. Malo and I look out the window and see the grand Capitol. I thought the train was nice, but this is a whole new level. Stadium seats that sit in rows, filled with hundreds of people looking directly into our window.
Malo is quick to run to the glass and begin waving at the swarms of cameras and screaming girls that beg for his attention. I follow shortly after and blow kisses to them, and they eat that up. I notice someone in the mob that is holding up a sign that reads, "DISTRICT TWO IS THE GLUE!" Malo and I both exchange laughter, feeling the love from the Capitol.
The train comes to a complete stop after driving through the crowd for a few more minutes. Malo leads the way out of the room and that's when we notice the TV that is projecting the Reapings from the other Districts. The first pair that is shown is District 1, they look strong and will most likely end up being our allies. The boy stands very tall with a skinny build, not too much muscle, but I refuse to underestimate him. However, the girl looks like a beast that intimidates me, almost as if she could snap anybody into several pieces.
Malo looks over at me as our faces flash on the screen, representing the District of Masonry. "Why do you always look at me, like that," I ask him, feeling a tad defensive.
"Just trying to figure out what's going on in that head of yours," Malo answers, with an eyebrow raised.
"None of your business," I say nudging him, as Brutus and Vivian come into the room.
The expressions on their faces are hard to read, but there is a certain seriousness about them.
"Carmen, I need you for a moment," Brutus says, waving me over to him as he walks into the hallway.
I follow, finding a place beside Brutus as he takes a deep breath before beginning to speak.
"Please, don't freak out. That's the worst thing you could do right now. You need to trust me and do exactly as I say, okay?" He says in a hushed tone, trying not to be heard by the cameras that hang in every corner of the room.
"What is it?" I say, leaning into him as a lump forms in my throat.
Brutus releases another deep breath before breaking the tension, "President Snow wants to see you immediately upon your arrival in the Capitol. You're on trial and there is a mandatory interrogation being held in about thirty minutes."