"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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"Miss Chambers, please take a seat."
There he rested, in all of his glory. President Coriolanus Snow. His mane as white as snow, his eyes as lifeless as the people I had slain in the ground. His skin was smooth, unblemished, and pale. His mouth was crackbrained, seemingly from his old age. He was plucking the white rose petals off of the white rose in his hand. He made my blood boil.
He sat down at the head of the study at the very back of my house. It was fully furnished. The double-glazing looking glass windowpanes were glowing through as the intense sun relaxed on his skin. He wore a shadowy crimson blazer with a white button up shirt underneath it.
It had been two days since the whole thing, which was all the rest I was authorized to have. According to Snow, the Victors don't get cheerfulness, or they don't get their family back. They just get suffering after suffering.
That was what I was entitled to the second that I won those games.
"I'd rather not." I snarl, detecting the displeasure of the President in front of me. He removes off another white petal off of the rose.
"I'm not asking." Snow guarantees me.
Snow is so diplomatic about the way he speaks; I sometimes forget he is the reason I'm deteriorating bit by bit. That he wants to execute me and kill everyone I love. That's the wickedest kind of villain; not the enraged, frustrated, and bitter ones. The ones who are callous, the ones who are cunning and clever and the ones who almost make you trust them.
"Fine." I give in, sinking myself into the soft silk dark blue chair in front of the President. Who is watching the rose, not me.
Snow plucks off another rose, then he makes eye contact with me. I can see no soul behind that man's eyes. Perchance he displaced it somewhere, or perhaps he's never had it. Either way, he's not got it now and he's not going to have it for the rest of his life. I know that I cannot trust him, but he has that eluding smirk that makes all the bones in your body jitter, going uncomfortable.
"I would like to strike you a deal, Miss Chambers." Snow speaks softly to me. Now that is a new one, President Snow wants a deal with me.
"And that is, Mr President?" I blink, placing my hands onto my lap and acting like the braindead bitch I am not. But yet, I still have that doubtfulness to even talk to this man. I am petrified of him.
"Oh, please my dear, call me Snow." Snow chuckles, his laugh is freezing and hoarse. "Mr. President is far too formal for both you and I."
"Alright. What deal would that be, Snow?"
"A deal not to lie to one another. Honestly, I lie to the Capitol so much that I get rather sick of it." Snow answers.
Wow. I was not anticipating the man who deceptions about the whole lot to not want to lie to me. He lies to the Capitol all the time, maintaining them with lies about the districts and the people who live in them. That we are savages, that we are freaks who do not deserve the life and the luxury the Capitol has given us.
