shot through the heart (marvel, the hunger games)

chapter seven; rory wilkin

    "You'll never see ON-SCREEN,"
              "Not very pretty but we sure know how to RUN THINGS."

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   The next few hours are spent with the escape of my repressed emotions; I hide under my bed's duvet, shaking and shriveling like a child. There is nothing I want more than to be off this train, away from it all. 

Away from Reverie and her distinctive Capitol accent, Holstein and his pity, Grier and his reminding presence of what was yet to come, but most of all, Tiffany and her glazed, bored gaze. 

I even considered driving my face into the fancy fabric of the duvet, forcing my lungs to scream for air, to let my body give up. But instead of making any significant movement, I stayed hidden under the comforter, eyes raw and red. I wasn't brave enough for such an action. 

After a while, there's a knock on my door. Holstein peers in tentatively, as I resurface from my hiding place for the first time. 

"Last call for breakfast... come have something to eat Rory."

He doesn't acknowledge my state, perhaps it's a return of kindness, like what I had shown him last night. The pair of us were bound to have everything sink in at some point, otherwise it would eat at us, devour our insides whole. 

There's a pause, "Tiffany isn't there, neither is Grier. We can eat together."

I lift a hand to scrub away any last remaining tears, before slowly pulling myself out of bed. My clothes stick to my skin, and I'm sure my hair is probably a mess right now but it seems the least I can do is appreciate Holstein's sympathy. 

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   It doesn't take me long to take notice of my hunger, a steady throb in my stomach. I've forgotten that the last time I ate was yesterday's breakfast before the Reaping, which now seems like a lifetime ago. 

Holstein gestured to the dark, wooden table in front of us, which had previously been empty besides his and our mentor's plates just a few hours earlier. Now all of the different choices for breakfast were laid out, on display. 

"I've already eaten but I won't say no to a second round." Holstein looked back at me, smiling good-humouredly. As unfortunate as it sounded, I was glad he'd been chosen as my district partner. 

I wouldn't have to experience everything by myself, Holstein seemed like the kind of boy to stay firmly at your side no matter what, constantly sending you supportive grins and gestures. 

But I knew our departure during the games would then be made even harder; I had already failed the first obvious task with the Hunger Games. Don't get attached to your district partner. 

The pair of us sat down and ate, and ate, and ate and ate until I was so full it became a struggle to breathe comfortably. We sat in silence for a while, my head resting against the table as I could feel my body attempt to digest all of this rich food. 

The sound of the train's doors zipping open lifted my head, watching Reverie stagger her way into the room on her high heels. I wondered if she ever took them off; it seemed likely she slept in them. 

"Holstein, Rory, we're almost at the Capitol dearies." She sat down at the closest end of the table, reaching a perfectly manicured hand out to each of us. I took her hand tentatively, and Holstein did the same. "You'll both be escorted out to the Remake Centre to be sorted out and then you'll meet your stylists. This year you've both been given perfectly capable and talented stylists, whom I'm sure will do both of you justice."