Scarred | The Hunger Games

23.

"District Eight. Novalie Tream. Report for individual assessment."

I pulled out a spear from the weapons stand. It was clear it was kind of put there for me, the spearhead was made using sharpened coral, and it was tied to the long wooden stick with dried seaweed. Anyone who didn't watch my games would have though this was placed there for District Four, but this was the Capitol's version of my shark tooth spear, without access to a dead shark. 

It angered me. That they thought my spear was so innovative. That it was so unique and recognisable. Because it wasn't any of that. My spear represented my desperation, and my spiralling, and everything that I went through when I was in my games. 

I tore it apart. The Capitol's filthy, cheap version of my spear. Ripping it apart of the seaweed and tearing it from the wooden stick. I started scratching words into the metal wall with the sharpened coral. And then I left the room. 

'YOU BIT ME NOW I'LL BITE BACK'

***

"District Eight, Novalie Tream. 10." Caesar announces. The room isn't cheering, nor disappointed. Woof had received a 2, not too surprising, since I think his motor skills and muscle control has been affected by his detachment. It's like this tension, where everyone knows no victor in this room will survive the games. 

Woof mentally isn't here, I'm barely qualified to be a victor, winning by pure luck. There will be no District Eight survivor this year. 

***

"Well yes, I'm angry." Johanna started, before she went full rogue on Caesar, which he lowkey deserved, but it only means she's not going to get sponsors, and knowing Johanna, she would have had a decent chance at winning. 

I stepped onto the stage next to Caesar, ruffles of fabric draped across my entire body. "Nova! Our shark biter. I mean your games last time were so short, so different, do you think these games will ever match up to yours?"

I took a deep sigh, annoyed that they brought up the horrors of my games. "Probably not in the same ways, you know. I am a living, breathing artefact of my games, ironic since we couldn't breathe in my games, but that's not the point. These games have to be hella crazy to beat the legacy that is my games."

Caesar and the audience chuckle, and I stand there awkwardly like a stick. "And do you think you will win? After all, your game was very fast paced, short, and adrenaline filled. Do you think you could survive a game lasting up to 2 weeks?"

I make direct eye contact with Caesar, my lips pulling up into a mischievous smirk with a twinkle in my eyes. "I sure hope I don't."

***

It wasn't that much of a surprise to me when Katniss' firey dress revealed a mockingjay, considering her stylist has pushed boundaries before. She looked more surprise at the mockingjay dress than anyone else, and yet, she looked so serene. 

I shot her a smile and a nod of approval from the other side of the stage as she walked up to her position, Peeta now entering for his interview. Katniss looks at me, clearly having seen that I smiled at her,

"And I won't have any regrets at all..."

And then this little Katshit goes on to fucking ignore me, drawing googly eyes to her lover boy, who girly isn't even dating.

"If it weren't for the baby."

OH SHIT- maybe they're just fuck buddies?

No. Clearly not. Seeing from the shocked expression on teen-mom-to-be, she was very much unaware they were fucking.