--» 𝔡𝔞𝔫𝔡𝔢𝔩𝔦𝔬𝔫𝔰 «--

Chapter Sixteen

The train comes to a stop at the station, and rather silently. The crowd of Capitol people floods to the doorway, along with many reporters dying to get even a word out of us, making it impossible to exit without Peacekeepers shoving them aside and guiding us to our next destination. And, of course, this is what happens. The large men in white uniforms drag us from the train's steps to a nearby glittering building. Katniss and I are lugged into our separate rooms, and a Peacekeeper sits me on a table then leaves. I look around at the numerous containers of creams and liquids curiously, wondering what purpose they hold.

"Hello!" a high-pitched voice behind me says, pulling me from my thoughts. I turn to see a short woman dressed in what has to be ten different shades of pink and five-inch high heels.

"Hi," I cautiously reply as she walks over to me. She pokes at my body, taking in every detail.

"What exactly is going on here?" I ask her.

"We're going to fix you up before Portia gets a look at you! Luckily you're not in too bad of shape, so we shouldn't have very many issues. I heard the girl is much worse," she says with her Capitol accent, whispering the last bit into my ear. This gets on my nerves, and I clench my teeth angrily. I open my mouth to defend Katniss, to say that it isn't her fault she's underfed and thin as a twig, but I think back to Haymitch and what he said. No buts. Don't resist. I shut my mouth fiercely, knowing he does have more knowledge on the subject than I do, although I hate letting this Capitol 'know-it-all' get away with insulting her.

"Now, let's take off your clothes and lay you on the table," she instructs. I strip nervously from my clothing, leaving it crumpled in a ball on the cold, tiled floor. An oddly dressed man walks through the door, and I throw my hands over myself as protection, although it doesn't cover much. He shuts it immediately behind him, knowing I'm embarrassed enough without a bunch of Capitol people observing me naked on a metal table. He smiles warmly, trying to assure me everything is fine, but it certainly doesn't work. He walks over to the woman, who I overhear is named Dawn.

"Grab the purple cream from the top rack, please, Cliff?" she says to the man, still squinting at my body. I feel very exposed, and I have to admit, a little embarrassed, but it's not like I'll ever see them again anyway. He does as she says and grabs the jar off the top shelf, setting it delicately in her hand.

"This might be a while," she says ineptly, removing the lid from the circular container. The smell of roses floods the room as she swipes a penny-sized amount of the substance onto each of her gloved fingers. She rubs it on my feet, and they numb. I hate this feeling, the feeling that I have no control, but I stay still as she coats my body. Shortly after, I'm immobilized, stuck to the table, and drenched in sweat.

They perform a hundred different treatments and experiments on my body, while some of the many work and others don't. At least two hours later, they finally add a layer of another purple cream to my body. This one, instead of freezing my body, makes it adjustable. I wiggle my fingers and toes, glad to have regained my sense of touch.

"Ta-da!" says Dawn excitedly as she claps her hands, pleased with the results.

"We have to get you to Portia; you're already running late!" Cliff says anxiously, not showing the same enthusiasm as Dawn and practically shoving me out the door once I've thrown on a lush, blue robe. Katniss's door is still closed, so she must be finishing up with her preparation stylists.

Dawn and Cliff guide me down a long hallway to another room with a sign that reads: Portia: District 12 Stylist hung on the door. I knock, and once nobody answers, I enter the room and sit in a chair, leaving Dawn and Cliff outside and awaiting my mystical stylist's appearance.