When The Canary Sings

Deal.

Third Person Point of View:

*

Daunting. Yes, that's the word.

Daunting, that's what the Capitol was, although if you ask any victor, they'll give you a different word.

Daunting

Shiny

Scary

Weird

A shiny shithole.

And now she was back. How long was it? Six months? To her, it felt shorter than that, much shorter, and now she's back where most of her nightmares take place.

Upon getting to the tribute center, where the victors stayed if they were at the Capitol in between games, she was pulled away from Haymitch and put into a room that was oh so familiar. It was where she had woken up when she first got to the Capitol. The room where she was plucked and waxed, and now it was happening all over again.

First, her arms, then her legs, all the way up to the very top.

"Alright, hun, hold Eurydice's hand for this one, these are gonna hurt." Camelia warmed and laid down the first strip of wax.

The metal room echoed with Becca's screams of pain, and she squeezed Eurydice's hand so hard she cracked all of her knuckles, and maybe fractured a bone or two. Of course, her stomach had been cramping with awful squeezes that just made the pain worse and worse.

"See, doll?" Camelia said, once she had stopped lighting all her body parts on fire. "All done." She said, looking up and smiling softly at Becca's red and teary face. "Aww, baby, c'mon, lets go get you rinsed off."

Now, she stood with a warm white towel wrapped around her as Eurydice and Camelia painted her face with golden and red makeup.

"Eyes up." Camelia says softly. Becca obeys the command and lets the blue woman trace her waterline with shimmering golden paint. "Good, good." She says, and then moves down to paint her lips a bright shade of red.

"Sexy!" Eurydice cheers, and Camelia swats her arm. Becca giggles uncomfortably, barely knowing what the word meant. 

"Eury!" Camelia scolds, "you can't say that! They wont let us put it on her if you call her that. Idiot." She scolds under her breath so the distracted Becca wouldn't hear.

Yes, you cannot call her sexy.

Not because she is a child.

But because if you do, you won't be able to paint her face anymore.

"Look, darling," Camelia says, holding a mirror in front of her.

Becca is absolutely dumbfounded. "Oh, wow." Is all she can say. She stares at herself, not really herself. This Becca she could not recognize. This girl in the mirror looked like her, but was not her. She was a stranger. A beautiful stranger, but a stranger nonetheless.

"Do you like it?" Eurydice questions eagerly.

"I look so..." She pauses, searching for a word that is not slutty. "Old. I look older." She smiles. Her green eyes dart between the women, who cheer and clap like they have created an astound work of art.

"Wait until you see your dress!" They cheer, clapping their dainty hands. Becca's nerves were put to ease at this. All her dresses she has worn in the Capitol have been dainty and somewhat modest. Nothing like she's seen the other victors wear on TV. Their see through dresses, high slits, lack of shirts and sleeves, and the tightness of the clothing had partially scared her. Even on her tour, the outfits had been modest. The fabric never highlighted anything wrong, and they all reached the floor.