The 151st Annual Hunger Games

Missing

Bria Glam's POV (District 1):

The slap to my cheek is like getting hit by a brick wall. My mother stands above me with her hand in the air again.

"You disappoint me, Bria. Sometimes I don't even understand how you're my daughter." She says stiffly.

She comes at me again but I back against the door. She's not coming near me again.

"Sometimes I wish I wasn't your daughter." I spit. I swing the front door open and run down the front steps, not even bothering to shut it behind me. I don't even know where I'm going. I just run between buildings and streets, dodging the Peacekeepers looking for people out past curfew.

I huddle in the corner of an alleyway between a fence and the Justice Building, waiting for someone to find me and turn me in. The damp puddles in the streets are the only evidence that it rained this morning and it makes District 1 looks dreary and grey. There is a stray cat that sits skittishly in the shadows near the end of the fence watching me with its dull green eyes. I wonder how we both ended up sitting alone in the dark, hiding behind a fence.

I'm surrounded by a fair amount of loose garbage and a worn piece of paper catches my eye. It's damp around the edges and some of the words are smeared off. Its almost illegible but the words I can make out are:

MISSNG

Nam: Erka Rier

ge: 18

Desciptin: Long blck hr, tal

Last sen at reapn in Distrct 1 wearig shrt whte dress.

It's pretty easy to fill in the smeared off letters myself. A tribute is missing. And Erika of all people. A Career.

I don't know her very well but I remember seeing her around the District. I wonder where she went. She seemed so keen to be in the Games, I don't know why she'd run away.

~*~**~*~**~*~**~*~**~*~**

Erika Riker's POV:

I shudder from the draft in the corner of the room and the water on the floor seeps into my dress and makes it feel endlessly damp. My eyes still strain to find any source of light but by now I know there isn't one. There isn't anything in this room.

The stone walls are cold and wet and the entire room reeks of mold and dust. I've sat alone in this small space for at least a day now and I'm beginning to think they've left me here to starve just for the fun of it.

My used-to-be white dress is the only slightly visible thing in this dark prison and what with all the dirt on the ground I doubt it will be visible for long. I'm tall enough that it's hard to stand up without hitting my head on the concrete and my back is stiff as a rock. I've searched every surface for a way out of here and it's inescapable.

I back against a wall again and fall to the ground, knees pulled up to my chest.

It seems like years later when someone finally enters this small grey room. I'm too delirious to pinpoint where they came from but they grab my forearms and drag me out into a dimly lit hallway. Peacekeepers.

They pull me roughly down the hallway towards a steep staircase that leads to a brightly lit room above. I'm surprised to find a table of pastries and water waiting for me at the top along with a large chair and stylist. The Peacekeepers shove me into the room and leave me alone with the stylist.

The Capitol lady waves me over to sit down and at first I flinch away from her touch. Her fake nails brush my neck as she pulls my knotted hair into a tight bun and I can smell her heavily applied perfume. She briefly skims my nails with a soft red colour and she attempts to rid my face of dirt and dark shadows, the result of minimum sleep. She makes me change into a new dress but it doesn't fit very well around my waist or broad shoulders. She finally takes away my rugged flats and hands me some bright red heels.

This is where I draw the line. I can not, I will not, wear something so hideously Capitol-made. I deliberately drop the shoes on the floor and continue to insist on going barefoot. After negotiating with the stubborn stylist, I'm allowed to trash the shoes if I allow her to apply red lipstick instead. Why? Why does she insist on making me look absolutely fake. After a few minutes of fussing over my hair and sarcastic expression she allows me to be escorted out of the room.

The Peacekeepers surround me on all sides and I walk, barefoot and awkward, down a hallway into a large circular room. It's a grey painted room with large bouquets and patterned curtains which seems to be a necessity in every Capitol place I've been. What I didn't expect to be in this room is a large velvet couch with President Jean sitting patiently on it, waiting for me. She motions for me to sit beside her and I stumble over to the soft couch. I don't bother to sit down and she looks aggravated as soon as I disobey her.

"Didn't I order for her to be given an acceptable place to stay? Look at her!" She says, referring to my bare feet and ill-fitting dress." If you had of treated her better she may be more compliant. Now look! She looks miserable."

I shuffle awkwardly in front of the President and stare anxiously at the Peacekeepers still waiting by the door.
President Jean gently grabs my hand and her soft touch startles me.

"Erika dear, I brought you here to offer you a deal. A deal in which you help me.. and I help you. You abide by the rules of my plan, and I spare your life."

A/N: Sorry it's so long! Also Ld123456789 sorry if I changed Erika's role/persona a bit. Don't worry she'll still be in the Games but she is also apart of something else...
Thanks for reading!