Worth it | F.O.

XIII

24 kids which would soon become reduced to a single one, a Victor standing bloody and bruised in a land of leering graves, were gathered in rows.

They sat as a united front of silence in uncomfortable chairs probably meant to psych them out beforehand. Some shook with nerves, some looked as if they were going to hurl, a select few smirked with confidence, and some, like Nivea, simply refused to show any emotion in the first place. 

Her finger tapped restlessly against her thigh when the first of them, the District 1 boy, disappeared behind metal doors with an echoing clang. An uneasy silence swallowed all the air in their lungs no matter which kind of person they were, all waiting with apprehension one way or another whether it be impatience or fear. She couldn't decide which she felt more, regrettably. 

On one hand, like the others in her strongest and secret alliance, she was impatient to show them what she could do. But, on the other, she didn't want to do this in the first place. There was a lingering and loathed fear that she would mess up by overachieving beyond what she had set as her limit or making a silly mistake that easily could've been avoided. 

This only grew with each tick of the obnoxious clock high up in the furthest corner, never faltering even as, one by one, the other tributes disappeared and didn't return. Nivea watched with calculative eyes when those of her "alliance" with the careers walked away and left her behind. Then came those that she had begun to build shaky foundations of trust with, their eyes more often than not wide and frantic with encroaching terror as it all became so much more real. 

Everyone, except maybe those from the Capitol's favorite districts, liked to believe that such tragedy as this just couldn't happen to them.

But that was never the truth, was it?. 

Whispered promises to younger siblings of “It's okay”, “You only have your name in there once, there's no way you'll be drawn”, and the worst of, “I love you - we'll be okay. I'll see you after, yeah?” never ceased to permeate the Reaping Day early morning air. This was the cost of hope. The scars left on the hearts of siblings either having uttered those words or heard them uttered only to never actually truly see their sibling again would never fade no matter how time dragged on. 

It was thoughts like that, spoken or not, that only encouraged the misfortune to multiply the burden on their shoulders, the tears in the eyes that knew them, and the sharpest drop from the highest heights of delusion. They ought to know by then that it wasn't worth all this to hope as they made a habit of only to fall that much farther and devastatingly harder.

If not, they were fools, cowards even, and for that as she had always despised any who couldn't find it in themselves to do the right thing for once, Nivea could never forgive them. 

But she supposed that was only fair. For, just as she would never forgive them, they would never forgive her, not in a million years. It was a mutual hate, one she knew would eventually wear her down into near nothing as it burned away. They would only remember her, even after she had died many years after, with hate and unforgiving frigidity.

Nivea would forever remain the darkest of stains on history's stained record. 

From this point on it was a given that she knew in her heart, even better than she knew her own scars, that, after these games, she would never have another to call her friend. 

The things she was willing to sacrifice for the greater good. 

Then, after watching her second alliance disappear with the rest and wishing Crop luck when he too was called away, Nivea Vida the representation of District 11 was left alone with District 12. Nervous glances were shared briefly between the other two and, though she felt inclined to join in in an attempt at gaining their trust, she couldn't bring herself to do it. 

Insecurity she could handle showing as it wasn't an overpowering weakness but nerves was another thing. She had a slight tendency to get sucked into the illusions set for others and so she feared it would become a very real weakness shattering all that she thought of herself before she could stop it. 

Those two weren't worth it. 

They would be killed off before she had to deal with either. Why not leave the job to another to accomplish? There was no need to try to do it herself if someone else was already going to. 

Then came her moment of truth. A voice called, “Vida, Nivea: District Eleven.”

The girl stood on command, shoulders squared like any seasoned soldier as she began to walk forward with confidence echoing within her light foot falls. But, just before she allowed those cold metal doors to steal her away from sight, she turned her head and met the boy's startled gaze. 

Thoughts ran rampant. She shoved them away to swim and drown in the blood of others' soon to be spilt. He had beautiful eyes, it was a shame they would soon dull over with the touch of death's gracious hand. 

It was for them, for boys like him and girls like the young one sitting beside him, that she was doing this, why she would allow them to die before her eyes without so much as a fight. Her fight was elsewhere, after all. It was much bigger than the literal. It was all encompassing, draining, and her reason for the breathe in her lungs. The games were only a part of it and so were these poor souls doomed to die. 

With a playful wink ingrained in the boy's memory and the clang of metal forever echoing in his ears, she was gone.

Okay, so I know it's been a bit but, as I was making one big freaking chapter, I kinda had to make this one it's own seperate one so the next wouldn't be too long so... Here you go

This is a bit of a filler but 🤷🏼 I'm actually pretty proud of it and there is some stuff in here that could be important in the future.

Also: listening to sad music as I'm writing this is not helping whatsoever 💀

👋🏼 See you next chapter! 👋🏼

Word Count: 1,000