——— two ———
Calla first fled into the dark, after she won - or rather survived - her Games, the 72nd annual Hunger Games. It happened shortly before her interview with Caeser Flicker.
She thought of it as cruel to make her watch a three hour long recap of the most horrible two weeks of her life. The girl had seen enough people dying already and was rather sick of death. Attending the interview and watching the Games - encountering death once more - terrified her to the bone. It was truly the last thing she wanted to do that day.
She was grateful that there was almost a week between her last day in the arena and her first interview. After all, they had to make her look desirable again. Before Calla Forte had sat a foot into the arena, she was a beautiful girl with her big ocean blue eyes, silky dark brown hair and soft curves.
But after those two weeks of pure terror the girl was a mess. Her eyes had lost every spark of joy they once possessed, her brown hair resembled a bird's nest, her skin and lips were dried out and most notably she looked like a skeleton, like she herself had just risen from the dead.
Of course the Gamemakers could not present her to the Capitol looking like that. It was not what the crowd wanted to see. They wanted a strong and desirable victor, not a shell of a person. Thus, Calla went through the same routine all the victors before her had to go through.
Days passed till the most skilled surgeons of the whole Capitol had perfected her body. All her scars were removed, her hair was untangled and most absurdly they surgically made her thicker. It was as if they had just erased a part of her history.
The only thing that still reminded of what she endured, were her now dull eyes. They could not magically make them sparkle again. Though the the shallow citizens of the Capitol would not take notice of that anyway.
On the day of the interview, it seemed like the whole Capitol wanted to talk to Calla. Her prep team and stylist constantly talked to her about the Games.
What they felt like at certain events. How they were heartbroken when they saw Bentley dying. How anxious they were when the careers hunted her. How they cheered for her as she killed Titan, the one who drove a spear through her cousin's heart.
It angered her how self-absorbed they all were. None of them even considered asking her about her feelings. They were much to occupied with their own. As they prepared her for her first public appearance after the Games, it took her all the self-control she had not to scream at them to shut up.
What had driven her to the roof of the training centre all along was the promise of peace and quietness. Two things she didn't have inside the building. There weren't all those obnoxious people whose presence she could not bare any longer. It was their presence slowly suffocating the girl.
On the roof she grasped for air. After hours she could finally breath again. The chilly evening air welcomed her with open arms. It was the first time in weeks Calla felt welcome. That feeling had left her as soon as she left District 6.
At first, the brunette did not even realise that she was not alone. For that she was way too focused on herself.
It wasn't until the person spoke up, Calla noticed her presence. A sarcastic "Seems like you're enjoying your victory," broke the sweet silence. It was easy to tell that the voice didn't belong to someone from the Capitol (for it lacked the strange accent).
As she turned towards where she had just entered, she spotted the figure of a girl of not older than eighteen. She looked much different to Calla, much more muscular and harsh, gorgeous nonetheless. The girl was no stranger to Calla. She had seen her the year before on TV.
It was none other than Johanna Mason who offered her some whiskey, saying Calla looked like she needed it more than her. Only reluctantly the brunette took the burning liquor from her. Johanna Mason was an intimidating person to say the least, especially when you witnessed her mercilessly slaughtering children on TV, not somebody you would imagine yourself having a drink with.
Yet, somehow, she became Calla's favourite drinking companion. Maybe it was due to the brunette realizing that the two of them weren't all too different. Both victims of the Capitol. Both of them having lost all those dear to them.
That evening became the first of many where the two girls sat silently on a bench, looking at the bright skyline of the vibrant Capitol, while passing a bottle of whiskey between them.
Their little tradition carried on for three years, before it finally found its end. The day they reached the Capitol for the Third Quarter Quell was indeed the last time they drank together.
"You're very pretty," bluntly spoke Johanna after her fourth sip of whiskey.
Calla did not thank her for that, it was no compliment. It was just a simple statement, just something Johanna Mason noticed about the girl with the once enchanting blue eyes.
While anger was usually the only emotion that crossed Johanna's face, the brunette saw how pity found its way upon it. Something that vastly confused the young victor. To her it appeared odd to be pitying someone for being pretty. Only later would she learn why being desirable was of no good.
Shortly before her interview began, a flustered Euphoria Twist found her. The woman was neither happy with her running away, nor with her drinking before „such an important event". Quickly she commanded Calla to follow her downstairs.
The brunette didn't make it out without Johanna Mason telling her one last thing. She gave her one last advice. One very important advice that would save her from more pain.
"Hey 6," she called out "don't make yourself look too desirable up there." With every word the girl from 7 said, she confused Calla even more.
At that comment, a simple huff escaped her rosy lips. Surely, the girl was messing with her, wasn't she? It was such a strange advice to give to someone, especially since everyone had told the brunette to appear as desirable as she could up to that point.
"Honestly, 6, I mean it," ensured Johanna looking as serious as ever. Something about her tone of voice told Calla that she should do what the girl said. Johanna's words sounded sincere. Possibly, it was the the most sincere thing told to the girl in the Capitol.
-——— two ———
"Everything still feels so surreal," commented Calla, gazing emptily in front of her. By that time she was already a bit tipsy, just like she always was when drinking with Johanna Mason, the victor with the highest tolerance for the burning liquor.
Only once did the brunette find the girl from 7 drunk. That happened almost three years before the Third Quarter Quell and had long been forgotten. It was the once time where Johanna was the one doing the puking.
Other than that alcohol only brought out the anger in the fierce victor, but let's be honest, everything did. Johanna Mason was a ticking time bomb.
"Those little fuckers promised us that we never set a foot into that bloody arena ever again. And now they want to kill us. Again," huffed Johanna bitterly, speaking rather loudly. "As if killing my entire family wasn't enough already. Now those bastards want to kill you too."
Calla gave the victor an understanding yet warning look. It was no secret that there where cameras everywhere watching the victors every move.
Although the brunette was tremendously impressed by Johanna's outspokenness and liked to listen to all she had to say, Calla knew that the Capitol wasn't a big fan of the girl's opinion. She more often feared for the Capitol to do her friend any more harm than they had already.
But Johanna Mason was no idiot. Of course, she was aware of the fact that somebody was indeed watching them.
"You incompetent little bastards aren't even capable of following one of the few fucking rules in your own stupid games," she now shouted. Her shouts seemed to be loud enough for whole Panem to hear.
Calla Forte had always been a very quiet and calculating person. Usually thinking five steps ahead, indifferent to Johanna Mason.
For many it was hard to believe that the two girls got along so well, since, at first sight, they seemed like day and night. It was only when one looked closer they could spot the girls' similarities.
The two of them shared a similar history, both having lost their families, both having endured the terror of the games and both being concealed by guilt. But they also had values alike. They just understood each other.
Trying to calm down the girl sitting next to her, Calla gently placed her left hand on Johanna's shoulder. If there was anyone, being able to calm her down it was the blue eyed girl from 6.
The next thing that left Johanna's cherry lips was barely a whisper "I have nothing to lose anymore. They can't hurt me." Her anger now was replaced by sadness, the emotion Calla knew all too good.
Some time passed before the two departed, going to their apartments for dinner. The day awaiting them was "absolutely important for them", as Euphoria would word it. It took Calla much self-control not to giggle whenever the woman spoke in her Capitol accent.
———- two ———
When sixteen-year-old Calla Forte entered the stage in her sparkling sky blue gown, all eyes were on her. She looked like an angel send to earth.
The ladies admired her, while the men wanted her. Some made whistling sounds, making the girl feel uncomfortable. Luckily though, most only clapped and cheered for her.
Her interview went fine. The audience even laughing at some of her responses to Caeser's questions. She kept them entertained.
Then her games were shown and the girl started remembering what the prior victor told her. "Don't be too desirable up there," rang through her head. Quickly the girl came up with a plan, not the best one, but at least it was something.
When they showed Bentley's death in full length, she bursted out into tears, dramatically burying her face in her hands, in process smudging her mascara. Her sobs didn't stop until she left the stage.
Despite her performance being theatrical and dramatic, it still seemed believable. The audience felt for her and Caeser offered her his tissue. Snow just looked at the girl in disgust when he placed the victor's crown on top of her head.
In a way, she pulled an Annie Cresta, a girl who went mad after watching her district partner getting beheaded. After all, none would deem a crazy victor desirable.
——— two ———
words: 1845
written: 2 September, 2020