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𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐄𝐋𝐄𝐕𝐄𝐍— 𝐒𝐔𝐆𝐀𝐑𝐂𝐔𝐁𝐄
❝ I suppose they won't leave me alone, will they? ❞
—𝐎𝐏𝐇𝐄𝐋𝐈𝐀 𝐁𝐋𝐀𝐊𝐄
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THE SMELL OF HAIRSPRAY FILLS MY LUNGS as I stare at my reflection in the mirror emotionless. Flavius pink hair takes my attention now and then as he styles my straight, dark hair into big loose curls.
"You look even thinner, darling. They really don't feed you well in Twelve." Venia squeaked with a giggle.
I decide to ignore all comments about my figure the prep team makes. I didn't feel like eating after leaving the Capitol, after surviving the Games. The memories of killing other Tributes or watching them die are haunting me till this day.
I know all those things do not define me, but I have to live with that guilt till I lose the battle against life, or till the cannon alerts my death in the Quarter Quell.
My finger tips run over the soft, ebony coloured fabric of the dress.
It's Cinna's work, he's outdone himself once again. This time the dress shows off my figure as the fabric sticks to my skin. I only worry about the heels Cinna chose to go with the dress, I'm not sure if I can properly walk in those.
