all too well

chapter five. . . let the games begin

IN THE MORNING, TIGRIS PRESENTS ME WITH A SIMPLE RED SHIRT AND JEANS. There's no need to get dressed up, as these clothes aren't worn to show me off, but rather just to transport me to the catacombs under the games. We wait on the roof, hand in hand, as the hovercraft appears above us and a ladder drops.

I'm glued to the ladder by what feels like a current so that I'm safely lifted inside. I can't help but wonder what made them feel the need to add something like this, but then I'm reminded of the forcefield on the penthouse to stop tributes from jumping to their deaths. I suppose they will do anything to stop us from dying on our own accord—or at least off camera.

I'm still stuck once inside, and this woman in a lab coat approaches me, grabbing my arm and exposing my inner elbow. She's carrying a massive syringe, which makes me freak out because I've never seen one in real life—only in medicine books at school, and I can't help but panic. Will it hurt? "Relax, it's just your tracker, Emma. If you stay still it'll be placed in efficiently and almost painlessly," the way she said 'almost' didn't trip me up, but I squeezed my eyes shut and stayed as still as possible. I'm too stressed to even bother correcting her about my name.

The tracking device is inserted deep into my skin, into my forearm. I know they only do this to keep track of where I am in the games, and it makes me wonder if it's because of my grandma's games. She told me about how she'd hidden in the tunnels, and Snow complained about not being able to see her. Now, he no doubt will have all cameras on me so he could livestream my death—and the end of the Baird line—in real-time.

Finally, the ladder releases me, and the woman leaves me alone. It isn't long before Tigris is also retrieved from the roof, and an avox directs us to the room where our breakfast w waiting for us. We ate in silence. I don't even think about what I'm putting in my mouth, just shovelling everything in front of me down my throat, knowing damn well I'll never eat this good again. My mind wanders to Dusty, as I pray that he's doing okay. He must be freaking out just like I am. I even think about the other tributes, like Azalea and Scythe, wondering how they were feeling. Was she hysterical? Was he trying to be stoic? Was it the other way around? I don't know either of them, how would I know how they'd react?

I try to push the negative thoughts out of my mind—the ones that tell me I have no chance of winning, or that I'll have to kill everyone to win. I wasn't my grandma, I couldn't just sing my way out of this one. Focusing on the window's view of the Capitol below, I am amazed at its beauty; I'm also reminded that this is the first and last time I'll ever see anything like this. After half an hour, I know we're near the arena because the window's blacked out. Tigris grips my hands tightly as the hovercraft lands, noticing how nervous I am.

The ladder leads down to the catacombs underneath the arena, and once we're down there, someone in a lab coat carefully instructs us on how to get there—to the chamber where I'll be dressed up for my funeral. I don't know the technical name for it, but out in the seam, everyone calls it the stockyard. The place animals go before slaughter. Out of habit, I go to reach for my grandma's necklace and panic when I realise it isn't there. I can't help sobbing; neither of my grandmas will be with me in my final moments. Tigris notices my tears, and offers me a reassuring smile, assuming I was just scared.

Before I even get dressed, I brush my teeth and have a shower—the need to be clean consumes me. If I was going to die in the first five minutes, I wasn't going to go out stinky.

Tigris lets my hair cascade down my back, even though I'm sure it'll get in the way and I'd prefer it up. I don't know if she has any faith in me, or if I'm just a message to Snow from her. I wonder if I'll ever find out why she hates President Snow so much, or how she knows my grandma, but I suppose that's a mystery I'll take to my grave.