"Why do they call her Jack the Ripper?"
Serabella Chambers, seventeen years old in the seventieth hunger games. When she volunteered for her little sister, Annabella Cresta. Running through the crowd to save her life desperately.
"Well she murdered...
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Brax condemned the switchblade directly into the back of my kneecaps. I screeched out in throbbing agony, trying to keep myself vertical but that felt unmanageable due to the mammoth-sized pain currently bleeding its way down my leg. He had hurled Hollie down to the ground and positioned another one of the stilettos into her shins so she wasn't able to get up from the ground.
"Aww, did you really think you were going to get revenge on what I did to Saron?" Brax rotated me around, he ploughed and placed the switchblade onto my throat, which was already suffocated in the amount of claw marks that Apollo had damaged by skin. "He cried like a little bitch when he died. But I guess you knew that, y'know considering you were in the bush and all." I froze. "that's right you little cunt, I knew where you were. I knew you saw me, but I decided to wait because sooner or later, you were gonna try and kill me weren't you? Well shame about that."
He began to go to slit my throat.
I sat up in bed, ear-splitting the entire room. I was in the middle of the spineless snowy sheets. I wasn't in the games anymore, I was only in the Capital and I was conscious, I could see the bustling city of the Capitol beginning to shockwave through me as the illuminations reverberated in the thunderous city that never sleeped.
But I was in bed. I was not almost being killed, I was not seeing Saron's dead body on the floor.
"Whoa, whoa, whoa" I heard Finnick, and I was okay again. he swathed his arms around me as I descended back down onto the bed. "It's okay. It's okay."
The hallucinations kept recurring for the past nine days. That's how long I had been in the Capitol city until I could return to District Four, they wanted to keep me here and keep me under surveillance to make sure I wasn't ministering any rebel armies. But these were not stopping, for as long as I had been alive right now. All I could see was the Games.
On the first day, which was officially announced as my least favourite day. A obscure black car was parked outside of my hotel room when I came out of it. my artists, all five of them (including Kendra and Lighting) had sauntered in and got me ready for my first day of many. Oh how much I was going to relish this.
I got into the car and it sped off down into the middle of the Capitol, I was wearing a dark red blouse with a pair of black trousers. I was greeted inhumanly with my indulgent fans who were barricading the metal barriers from me to them. I was taken by security and above to the top of the snowy bleached balcony where I would be crowned victor of the seventieth Hunger Games.
How fun.
I was improved immediately when I was in my dressing room, ten minutes before the thing. Kendra and Lighting had performed, changed me into a floor-length gorgeous dark red dress with flakes of black in-between. I did a whirl for my two favourite stylists, who enthused over me of course.
When I got out there, I sat down on a magnificent fashionable thrown where I waved to my fans, who screamed my name so loud I thought they would break their voice boxes. Then, he appears.
