chance (n.)
possibility of something happening.
CHECKMATE #2
"am i supposed to be happy that i lived and won? because technically i could never be."
The victor's crown sits upon Gwyneth Anderson's head.
She can't process the horrors she went throug...
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— GWYNETH —
MY FEET tap impatiently on the ground as I wait for my turn on stage.
"Hello, and greetings to all residents of the Adelaide Woods!" The Prime Minister strides onto the stage, brandishing a small box in his hands. The Arena Twist.
"Before we commence our important Arena Twist ceremony today, we would like to address an important issue. As our first victor, Gwyneth Anderson will receive a few.. privileges," he says, mischief glinting in his eyes.
"She will be able to choose three tributes from the first Games and revive them, as her own mentees. She will help them in the arena, and hopefully, they will survive. Her choice is very important. Choose wisely, Gwyneth."
I didn't realise I had been holding my breath for over a whole minute.
Hold up. All of the other twenty-three tributes are dead, how would they- it doesn't match up-
"I'm sure you all want to know how that will be done. All the dead tributes in the first Games have been revived using our special technology and placed on life support. The three chosen tributes will regain all their bodily functions while the others will wait for their imminent death."
I gasp. Then I choke on my own breath, registering what that means, for both the country and the tributes.
Byrok.. they brought the technology of their own country, the chip that they stole from the Capitol City... to the Hunger Games? Just for people's entertainment?
3.. 2.. 1.. Cue.
"Shall we now welcome Gwyneth Anderson, our victor from the 1st Adelaide Woods Hunger Games?"
A man wearing a headset pushes me out into the spotlight.
I don't know where I'm going. I just walk in a straight line and into people's attention, the spotlight ever-so-familiarly momentarily blinding me, until I find my way to my spot marked with a small X under my feet.
The Prime Minister hands me a tablet, and when I look down at it, I gulp.
The tribute photos for the 1st Adelaide Woods Hunger Games.
23 young people. My eyes scan all of their names.
My finger hesitantly hovers over all of them, their statistics.
Charlotte Levine. Fourteen. Height. Weight.
Her picture stares up at me. She isn't smiling.
I force myself to look away from Charlotte's tribute photo, and without knowing what I'm doing, my fingers make a few clicks on the screen.
