Anonymous

Demonstrations

"After lunch today, you're going to have your private sessions. You'll be called into the Gamemakers and have fifteen minutes to impress them. Then, you'll get a training score, and you'll get sponsors based on how high it is. Do well."

Is that it? But she tacks on an afterthought. "In two days, there are your interviews. You'll have another chance to win sponsors. You'll be standing in front of an audience, so I hope you don't have stagefright." She laughs.

Her words come back to me as I'm waiting for my turn. Seven other people have already gone, and I'm sixteenth.

The Games are going to start in a few days, and my opportunities for escape are running to a close. We've been shut up inside the Training Center since we got here. But standing in front of an audience, definitely wearing a lurid costume like from the chariots, I'll have an opportunity. The stupid outfit they put me in last time resembled what everyone else was wearing, and no doubt this'll be the same.

I'll make a break for it then. That'll probably be my last chance. I can't screw it up this time.

Won't it get boring for the Gamemakers, watching twenty-four different people try to impress them? I'm not really worried about it, but the others must be. No one will pay attention to them after they have to analyze everyone else. How will they possibly get a good score?

The Gamemakers have been watching for the past few days, though. Maybe they'll have gotten an impression of us already.

It takes a long time, and I watch as Nolan goes in. What's he going to do?

They call Theresa Linen. Although I've professed numerous times that that's not me, it does no good. I'm expected to follow along, and if I want to have any chance of getting everyone to let down their guard, I have to comply.

I decide to use the spears. I was proficient with them earlier, and they feel normal in my hands. My body knows them, even if I don't. It's an odd feeling, an incomplete memory. But it's my only clue to who I am.

Rage shoots through me, twisting and kicking, searing anger. I've been made essentially a servant to a place I don't know, had a name called that wasn't mine for a death contest, put on a train, knocked out, and forced to perform in front of a garish city. What the hell did I do? It's got to be somehow connected to why I can't remember anything. No one here ever addressed that. The matron at the children's home- Mrs. Tallwood- never asked me any questions. Neither did Mayor Selvage. He paid no attention to me, only listening to Jean.

Jean. Did she know something? She thinks that I hit my head on the underside of the wood pallets, but maybe she's come to other conclusions. It's too late to ask her now. When I get out of here, it's not worth my time to go back to District 8.

I redirect my anger into the spear as I send it hurtling towards the target. It hits with a thud and I sprint forward, yanking it out and backing up to throw anger. My second throw isn't as hard, but I still make my mark. The spear's a little too light, but I adjust my thrust accordingly.

Is that enough? Or do I need to keep going?

I throw the spear a few more times, but when my outrage is spent, I stop. Better to quit while I'm ahead.

It doesn't really matter if I do anything else. I'm not trying to impress them, just to touch up on my skills. I could do the obstacle course, I guess. I'll be dodging around and running a lot in a few days, and I'm not the best at it.

I mess up a few times, but I've done okay. When I'm finished, I dust off my shirt and look over at the Gamemakers.

"You're dismissed, Theresa," a man says, and I nod, turning towards the door. We're supposed to go back to our floor after, Dawn said. The elevator moves quickly, barely giving me any time to think before the doors open up.

Lucilla and Dawn are sitting on the couch, and Nolan isn't within my vision. Either in his room or slumped on the couch.

"Dinner's in an hour," Lucilla calls, and I nod, heading back to my room. I yank off the framing clothes, figuring tang I won't have to wear them again. It's still odd having plenty of clothes, being able to change them on a whim. Maybe that's another hint.

I pick out a purple ruffled dress, similar to the one Mrs. Tallwood gave me. It's subtle, but maybe someone will pick up on what I'm wearing and interpret it as me accepting myself as Theresa Linen. That really couldn't be further from the truth, but I need to work on completing the facade. I have two days to lie low before I can get out of here. Two days to go along, being compliant and placid. Because the only way I can escape is to sink deeper within.

AN: I've picked up some readers, looks like. Welcome! Sorry about the chapter length, but glad you like the story.