The 66th Hunger Games

The Table

The rhymthic minuscule thudding of the rails meeting the wheels of the train created a ticking clock. Like every tiny bump was death knocking another second off Mollier's counter; just lazily flicking each moment of her future off of the line of tiles. The domino effect of time was much less exciting when the pieces were taken away from you. Instead you're left with a looming atmosphere of incompletion. Flick, flick, flick. Molliers's life was being nudged away in both directions rather than just the natural falling of the tiles. Her life was being cheated from her by the same people offering her tea and cake. 

The train was oppulant to say the least when comparing it to the districts. The tables were a deep heavy looking wood with a polish so shiny Mollier could almost see the fear in her eyes reflected back at her. She tried the sickly sweet cake and put it down, certain anymore than two bites would have left her feeling ill. The tea wasn't like the tea they offered at the plant. This one was a pink translucent colour with petals floating around in it. It was served cold and although refreshing, gave off more of a perfume than it did any flavour. The antithesis to the cake that looked so unassuming but then assailed you with far too much taste. 

Mollier had managed to gather herself in the moments when Grid was sent in to say his goodbyes, wiping her face and straightening her outfit. She knew she had to be strong. No more of this crying that wasn't hapling anything. She had to be logical. Grid had returned from the room in the same stoic fashion he had entered. Mollier got a glimpse of his mother, who had been sobbing on camera and seemingly had not stopped, as the door closed and she heard an audiable groan of a woman losing a child. Again, Grid did not react.

And there he sat, in silence, to Mollier's left. He did not eat or drink even as their silent attendees held out the same offerings Mollier had politely accepted. His hands remained under the table and his eyes were fixed straight ahead on what she could only see as a blank bit of wall. After staring at him until he blinked, the teen looked away, deciding that two could play at this I'm-going-to-pretent-you-don't-exist game. She instead took in the framed posters all around the cabin displaying the more prominent winners of previous games. Porter Millicent Tripp was there, in her halo, looking fierce. She had been so popular a winner that people tried to place write in bets for her the year after, for a games she wasn't even part of. There was also Mags Flannigan, a dristrict four tribute who won the eleventh Hunger Games; Calliber Lyme a recent winner from District two and of course the latest winner, Finnick Odair. At fourteen he was the youngest ever winner of the games and as a result was plastered all over Panem for all of the seasons since. Mollier would not have been surprised if he was paraded around more than this years tributes for all the fame he had received. The way he acted about it all, it was like he was never even district. Shameful.

Then, as if stepping straight out of the poster, Porter Millicent Tripp entered the cabin. Mollier pushed her chair back and stood up, her father had always taught them how to act around company who kept a higher status than their own. And Tripp definitely had a much higher status. She almost floated through the space to the table and pulled back a chair for herself before bowing slightly at Mollier as an indication to sit. Grid had yet to acknowledge anyone had entered the room. This did not seem to bother Tripp. Mollier sat as instructed and found herself mirroring the poise of the victor before her, sitting straight with her hands in her lap. Though nobody could have sat quite as straight as the famous Porter Millicent Tripp. It was her staple. The teen remembered someone mentioning a few years back the the Capitol once wanted her to do a series on their networks about how to carry yourself. Sort of like an instructional program. Walk like a Victor! Join our beloved Porter Millicent Tripp as she shows us what it means to stand above the pack! Mollier never found out if it was real but it definitely sounded like something the Capitol would do.

"There are still three districts left to reap." Tripp said as she watched one of their silent caretakers pour her a glass of the pink tea. "So we shant go through the competition until we know what we are looking at. I know the last few districts are often not much of a threat but I have seen District Eleven churn out some vicious creatures." The words fell from her mouth so easily and so calmly, but then again she did the same thing every year. She was used to the process. She was the last winner their district had seen, and that was twenty- eight years ago. She paused to take a sip of the tea, still aiming the whole speech at Mollier, clearly ruling Grid out in regards to being part of the conversation.
"For now, we should discuss the process of the next week to make sure you understand what's coming. As we are not too far from the Capitol, the train will arrive tonight which means you have an extra night in the tribute centre before the parade which is good. It means you have the night to get over it all a little before Clotho gets his hands on you." Tripp then suddenly reached her long thin arm out over the table and cool fingers stroked Molliers neck before wrapping around the string that hung from her neck. Moller froze as the little netted twine pouch slipped out of her collar and fell against her chest. "Hide this under your pillow tonight, Clotho will throw it out with your clothes otherwise. What the district see as treasures are worthless to the Capitol. He won't even think twice." Mollier nodded.
"I will, thank you." Tripp held her gaze for a moment before looking down to take another sip from her drink.
"Hydroelectric, so you're intelligent then?" 
"Well, I-"
"Not the time to be modest Five." The reduction to just her district number by a fellow District Five resident should have hurt, should have made her feel angry, but it didn't. Because Tripp didn't say it with any malice. She was doing it because there was no time and Mollier had to get used to being seen as just a number, just part of their game. 
"Yes I am. I am intelligent." She replied, forcing a little more confidence into her voice. Tripp's very stern face seemed to soften at the effort Mollier was putting in.
"You a fighter? Ever had to run as fast as you can?"
"I'm not a fighter, but I can run. I was fastest in my class for the last two years of school. I am also flexible, I can fit into tight spots." Mollier found herself unloading information to Tripp as if this was a job interview. "I have been around animals and my job can involve lifting heavy parts at times." Tripp was nodding and taking a notepad from her pocket to scribble some things down.
"Waste of time."

The voice was such a stark difference to the two women, low and harsh that Mollier flinched at it. Tripp however just paused in her note taking, blinking slowly.
"Waste of time. All of it." Grid said again, leaning on his chair so it balanced on the two back legs. His bright ginger hair was almost glowing  under the flourescents, his heavy brown eyes in shadows. "Already dead." He mumbled staring at the table.
"Yes. Agreed." Tripp replied, placing her pen on the table. Grid was so stumped by her reply that he actually looked up at Tripp who was staring at him directly with the eyes of a victor. The eyes of a killer. "You are already dead. You've decided that. So stop wasting the limited time Mollier and I have and leave the room." There was a terrible, loud silence broken only by the soft thud of the two legs of Grid's chair returning to the floor. He scoffed and shoved back from the table. "Your room is the third carriage down." Tripp said, ignoring the rude hand gesture that was once again aimed at her as Grid slumped out of the room. Once he had left, Mollier took a deep breath and a gulp of her own tea.
"I'm sorry, you don't deserv-"
"Nothing new. I'm a part of the system." Tripp interrupted. "Now, back to you. What specifically did you do in your job role?"