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"THIS IS BULLSHIT," OPHELIA MUTTERED TO HERSELF— as she held her arm out for the operator to inject the tracker inside of her.
She didn't get a wink of sleep that night, not while her thoughts consumed her like a parasite as Ophelia stared at herself in that mirror. The red and purple bruises spoke for themselves as her eyes carefully traced the wounds that she inflicted on her from punching the elaborate mirror multiple times until she managed to crack that stupid glass into pieces.
Ophelia's life was on the line. Even though Finnick had promised her the guarantee that she would come out with perhaps a couple of scratches and wounds, she'd leave that hellhole with breath in her lungs to live another day. The vivid points of the plan ran through her head as her eyes flickered up to look at the sky once more before making her way into the aircraft. Was her life truly a gamble for someone else's success?
She bit the inner cheek of her mouth as she strapped herself into one of the seats of the aircraft. The gutting sensation of having your stomach plummet to the ground while you go up into the air was a sickening sensation. Ophelia couldn't help but heave as she threw her head up to the tiny padding of cushions that were provided in her seat.
Do not let them see you fall. The words echoed in her head like a chorus of bullets that fired on her in an instant. Sure, that seems easy enough. Ophelia heard the drumming drone of the aircraft coming to a pause. There it was, the beating of her heart ringing through her ears as the aircraft came to its landing point. Minutes, mere minutes she was going to be thrown into that arena like fresh meat. Like a prey being thrown into a pack of murderous, bloodthirsty wolves.
There was a plan. A horribly, rushed plan. Finnick saw some comfort in that bullshit, Ophelia was more than resentful. Did he not calculate the risks? Did he not realize that they were gambling their lives with an even greater risk of death than before? Her fingernails drummed on the armrest before she was given the more than a hard nudge to get out of her seat and follow the rest of the operators out of the craft and down towards the waiting platform.
So why was she going through this shit? Ophelia tugged at her locks of ebony black hair praying that this was some psychotic dream. Perhaps if she jumped off this landing point would she escape this nightmare. Her eyes closed shut at the very thought of her body contorted and bleeding out on the clean grounds. A pussy. That's what they'd call her. She'd be nothing more than an embarrassment, a laugh for the Capitol to jeer at with their decorative handkerchiefs and tears that could cost more than her freedom.
You know why you're doing this. The voice fought on in the cloud of thoughts that twisted her mind. You're going to aid in a revolution. This was more than true. A revolution. A means of finding peace from being oppressed. Even if it meant gambling her own soul to see that devil with a snowy white beard finally have a bullet pierced through his skull, she wasn't going to stop until that man would fall for his criminal deeds. He ruined you, so now you must be his ruination.
Not even her designer bade her farewell. Perhaps he had found another jewel to decorate that was a goddess compared to her. Ophelia didn't seem to care. She caught glimpse of her narrowed eyes as she slipped off her clothes to wear the suit that was left lying on the tiny table for her to put on. There was a tiny gold trinket that fell to the ground in an echo as she slipped the suit off the table. A tiny little necklace. Like the one from home. She pressed the chain to her lips, feeling the cold metal on her body. Perhaps this would have been the same chain she would have worn around her neck, but that's nothing but ashes now.
Slipping the necklace around her neck, Ophelia tucked it under her suit. The walls were reflective enough for her to grasp the pins and hair ties that she had in her jacket before she left. If she were to get any sponsors, Ophelia knew how much the Capitol liked her to look beautiful.
She made sure that she could throw her hair up into a crown of braids in a mere matter of moments. But as her hand was about to make sure that her braids weren't crooked, a Peacekeeper grasped her by the arm and shoved her into the platform that was hers to stand on in only a matter of moments. Thrown off, the tiny pin fell to the ground as she could feel the Peacekeeper's grip tighten on her arm before throwing her, only to have Ophelia eclosed by enforced glass walls.
The glass was enough for her to see her work incomplete. She had time but was taken from her. This had to be his doing. Her hands touched the cold glass as if to know that somewhere in this wretched room, he was watching her with that smirk in his eyes that made Ophelia sick to her stomach. She was going to lose sponsors for what was to come next. Fuck it. She let her hair down. If the Capitol wanted a beautiful hairdo, they lost their chance. Ophelia wasn't going to give it to them if the chances were stacked against her.
She could feel the platform moving up, she ignored the echoes of the voice on the system giving the countdown of the launch. Ophelia closed her eyes hoping to see nothing but darkness. Instead, she saw Daeyrs. That crooked smirk that always gave her butterflies. He inched closer towards her, almost closing the gap between them until leaned forward and pressed his lips to her ear.
"Avenge me," he whispered which was enough to send shivers down her spine.
"I will,"
The blinding light made her open her eyes to see the body of water that she was standing in the midst of. On the land, there was the Cornucopia; flooded with every weapon imaginable that could be hers for the taking. Instead, her eyes danced over to the tropical trees that encased the arena more than the shimmering water that was for her to swim in to make her way to shore.
Hitching her breath, she felt her nails digging into the palms of her skin as she looked forward with the animosity beaming in her eyes. Avenge me. His voice echoed like a distant call in the wind. For him, she would do this for him. And if the plan worked, she would do this for her. And get out of this hellhole once and for all.
"Let the 75th Hunger Games begin. May the odds be ever in your favour."
I will.
ACT ONE: ━━━━━━ WELCOME TO THE JUNGLE
it gets worse here every day you learn to live like an animal in the jungle where we play ━━guns n' roses
