What if Katniss never killed Marvel? What if district 12 was never meant to have a victor?
What if the 74th Hunger Games was meant to have a victor from district 1?
Marvel was once a nameless character in the first Hunger Games Movie and Book, but h...
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I flutter my eyes open, feeling the soft cotton that I lay on reflect my body heat. I felt so cozy, until I remembered.
That bastard girl.
Clove is going to kill her.
All of relaxation evaporated, I got up and got dressed. Once again I am once again the last one out to the dining room.
The mood was horrible, Glimmer looked as though she was burning lazars through the glass table. Oh if looks could kill then maybe she would have a chance at winning. The mentors quietly pick at their fruit, deep in thought.
So much for a happy last day in the Capitol...
I grabbed a handfull of fruit and headed out onto the balcony, desperate to get some fresh air.
For a few hours I sat there, listening as the Capitol waking up from its slumber.
Today is my last day here, tomorrow I will be fighting for my life. When put like that, it's a whole lot more scarier than I realised. We, as students from the acadamy, are only taught the skills for winning and how important glory is. But no one could prepare us for the knowledge that we could die. We will die, all except 1.
Me. Me?
My brain pauses, thinking back to the night before.
My calculated odds are 5-1, same as Clove despite her score being higher than mine. Glimmers is 7-1, and Cato 3-1. I couldn't remember what Marina's was... Maybe 6-1 or something like that.
5-1, still a higher chance than 22-1. But still...
What if I don't win? What if I die just like any of the other kids in the arena.
Kids, kids in the arena.
I stand back up when I hear footsteps walking from behind me. Madam Zimbe pokes her head out from the doorway.
"Hello! You excited for tonight?"
Tonight, the interviews. I nod my head and give a small smile.
She flicks a green lock of hair over her shoulder,
"Come on then, the mentors are going to help with exactly you are going to say."
What she said is exactly what happened. For hours I spent sitting on the couch, rehearsing my laugh until it was just the right amount of cheerful humor and deadly threat.
After that I was sent to the dressing rooms once again.
I sat, cold, on the table once more. This time Claudia wastes no minutes and storms in with the crew behind her.
In 10 minutes, it was done. My hair brushes in place, my skin smooth and shiny. But best of all...
