The Black Widow- A Hunger Games Fanfic

Home again

I stepped off the train back into District 1. Back home. My family stood at the station waiting for me to come home. But they looked at me with fear in their eyes. I was no longer the daughter and sister they had loved. I was a victor- a glorified murderer. A black widow.

They said nothing as we were led to our new home in victor's village. Except that they wouldn't be joining me.
According to them, I needed my own space now that I was 18 so they had decided to continue living in our old house. It was big enough, they said. But I knew the real reason.
So that was why I ended up alone. There were more rooms and bedrooms than I could ever need

 I would go over to visit Cashmere and Gloss a few times a week but I could sense they didn't really want me around. I would sometimes pick up White from school, but that had ended when a girl in his class screamed at my monstrous appearance.
I had run home after that and stared in the mirror for the first time. There was almost nothing different about my appearance from when I'd left except for my hair being black where it had once been pink but that hadn't even been natural to begun with. So that meant there must've been something about me that marked me as a child killer. A monster.
I stopped leaving my house after that.

There wasn't much to do at home. I couldn't ever sleep much anyway, my nights always disrupted by such horrors that I would stay awake for days on end until I inevitably passed out.
I knew alot of victors turned to alcohol, but I rarely left my house long enough to figure out where to buy it. Instead, I spent my days lifting weights and pummeling the punching bag in the gym or throwing knives at the portraits in the hall. I wonder what Snow would say if he knew that his portrait's eyes had been gauged out by knives. Just like his throat.

I had tried a few times to send some of my winnings to my family, but every time, they just sent it back. I understood, I did: if I were them, I wouldn't have wanted any of my blood money. Because that's what it was. I was no better than an assassin really. I had been paid to kill children after all.

Three months into my self-imposed house arrest, I heard the first knock at my door. Reluctantly, I went to open it only to find Cashmere and Gloss standing there not looking too happy.
"Out," Gloss said firmly,
"No," I replied and began to slam the door in his face. He caught it,
"I'm not repeating myself,"
"Neither am I." I didn't have time to defend myself as they each grabbed one of my arms and dragged me out of my house,
"Help!" I yelled, "These people are kidnapping me!" Cashmere snorted with laughter as Gloss rolled his eyes.
They dragged me over to an automobile, dumping me in the back seat while they took the two in the front,
"Rude," I muttered. Neither replied, instead starting the engine and pulling out of Victor's Village. We drove through town and I couldn't help but feel slightly in awe: I had never been in an automobile before. Now that I was rich beyond my wildest imaginings, maybe I should buy one. Drive it. Not that I had anywhere to go. Or anyone to show it to.
"Where are we going?" I asked,
"The Academy," Gloss answered shortly,
"I don't want to go back there," I pouted, "Take me home."
"Well tough, we're going. You're a victor now and victors have responsibilities. We left you alone for 3 months to sort your shit out. Now we are going to the Academy and you are going to take some responsibility."
"Take me home," I said quietly,
"No," he said, "And don't start feeling sorry for yourself. You volunteered for this. I might've taken some pity on you if you were reaped but you chose this. You did this to yourself."
I went silent. I knew this was true, but hearing it out loud hurt.
I didn't say anything for the rest of the drive.

Finally, we pulled into the Academy parking lot (I hadn't even known there was one until now) and my mentors ushered me out the door.
"As the newest female victor," Cashmere told me, "You'll be taking my place and mentoring the female tribute." Gloss dismissed himself at this point and Cashmere led me to the corridor where the victors' offices resided. We passed about a dozen, each labelled with the Victor's name, Capitol nickname and the Games they won. When we were halfway down the hall, Cashmere stopped, indicating to the office on our left.
On the plaque it read: Rose Gold
                                      The Black Widow
                              69th Annual Hunger Games

Cashmere led me inside, pushing open the door to reveal a simple desk and chair in front of the window and a bookshelf and filing cabinet against one wall. When we were inside, I swivelled to look out through the glass panes in the door and saw a weapon rack, which had previously been hidden by the door when it was open. On the rack, there were an assortment of beautiful throwing knives that I was itching to touch. I didn't though. I had some self control after all.
"This is your office," she told me flatly, "there isn't much point to it; it's mostly ornamental."

I followed her out to the areas that I had seen before: the training rooms. We didn't spend much time in there and instead continued to the classrooms. We went further along the corridor with all the classrooms into one of the smaller ones, which were only used for older kids, who were in the running to volunteer.
When we entered the classroom, there was a girl waiting for us. She was small, with honey brown hair and blue eyes. A spattering of freckles were clearly displayed over her nose, which made her look childish, almost innocent. She couldn't have been older than 14.
"Scram kid," I told her, "we're here to talk to the volunteer."
"I am the volunteer," she told me confidently. I cast a look at Cashmere, who shrugged.
"What do you mean you're the volunteer?"
"I. Am. Going. To. Volunteer. For. The. Hunger. Games. Next. Year."
"No you're not," I told her and turned to leave,
"She wants to be the youngest ever Victor," Cashmere explained, "and she graduated top of her class so I couldn't really say no."
"Well I have no issue with that," I said, "No."
"You don't have a choice," she said, "She's already had the genetic modification done. She is next year's volunteer." I sighed, turning to the girl,
"How old are you?"
"Twelve and a half," she replied perkily, "but I'll be thirteen by the time the games start."
"Twelve and a half?" I said in disbelief, "Twelve and a half?" I turned to Cashmere, "ARE YOU FUCKING KIDDING ME?! YOU'RE SENDING A CHILD WHO STILL USES 'AND A HALF' TO DESCRIBE HER AGE INTO THE HUNGER GAMES!"
"Like I said," Cashmere replied calmly, "I didn't have much of a choice."
I stormed out.

It took me an hour to walk back to Victor's Village during which my anger at having to send a child into the Hunger Games had not cooled. Twenty minutes after I had locked myself back in my house, a knock sounded at the door. It was probably Cashmere. I didn't want to talk to her so I ignored the door. But then she knocked again. And again. And again.
And she just kept knocking until it was absolutely doing my head in. Only then did I open the door, even more annoyed than before.
"What?" I said, deadpanning her. Cashmere pushed herself into my house and took a seat on my couch, "By all means come in," I told her sarcastically.
"Thank you," she replied, "I'll just make myself at home. Would you mind putting the kettle on." I was surprised steam wasn't coming out of my ears at that. I stormed towards her and she held out a hand, "I've just come to talk," she said, "Can you listen and then you can slit my throat."
"Fine," I said, dropping onto the armchair by the fireplace, "You have five minutes."
"Sapphire is a good choice for a tribute," she said so that I finally knew the name of the girl who I would be sending to her death, "I believe she can win these."
"No-one younger than sixteen ever wins the games."
"Finnick Odair from 4 won at 14," Cashmere reminded me of the Victor of the 65th Games. He would be my age now.
"Sapphire is not Finnick Odair," I said.
"How different are they really."
"For one she's younger- I doubt she's even hit puberty yet."
"The genetic engineering is making her go through it this year." I glared at her,
"How are you okay with that? Second, Odair was much better looking- he only won because of that sponsor gift." Cashmere went quiet. The realisation hit me,
"You picked a young one because you didn't want her to be like you." My volume rose, "You're sending a girl to die so you won't feel guilty!"
"You think I don't feel guilty about this?" She retorted, "I've picked the least desirable girls every year since I won, bypassing the best fighters just so they wouldn't meet my fate."
"So why did you pick me?" I asked, wondering if Cashmere had thought I was undesirable,
"Snow told me to come to the Capitol for a week. It was during the last week of selection. By the time I came back, it was too late. They had already taken you for genetic modification." I breathed in, I hadn't expected this.
But I understood now that I had no choice in this. I could shape the outcome, but there were not really any good options,
"What's her preferred weapon?" I asked with a sigh. This was going to be a long year.