Torn: Sequel to Ruthless

Chapter 6

Octavia

The rest of the training is uneventful, though the day of Private Training is far from it. I wake up to Arachne's shrill voice demanding I get up. Today, instead of choosing my outfit, I'm handed a sleek black unitard with my District number pinned neatly on the back. Arachne styles my hair into a neat bun, weaving braids through it before sending me off to breakfast. The dining room is empty when I arrive. I grab a plate and fill it with a variety of mouthwatering dishes. It doesn't take long for the others to trickle in, and the formerly quiet room erupts into chatter.

After breakfast, Apollo and I rush to the training room, half-running to avoid Arachne's wrath. As expected, we're early. The only tributes there are the District 9s. Half an hour later, the rest of the tributes arrive, and we're all ushered into a side room to wait while others begin their private training. A robotic voice announces the names, starting with Rubie. After Wonder, the boy from District 1, finishes his session, the voice calls my name.

"Octavia Meyer."

"Good luck," Apollo murmurs softly as I make my way toward the door.

I exhale, stepping into the vast training room. The Gamemakers, who are seated behind a row of monitors, barely glance up at me.

"Octavia Meyer," I announce, my voice steady despite the pressure building inside me.

I grab a sword and begin a simulation—the hardest one. Orange figures rush toward me, and as they circle, I hack away at their fake arms, legs, heads, and torsos. One fake arrow strikes my side, and a spear grazes my leg, but otherwise, I stay unharmed. As the final wave approaches, I wait until they're almost within arm's reach before swinging my sword in a full arc. Piles of orange blocks fall to the floor, surrounding me.

"Thank you," I say, my voice calm, before waiting to be dismissed.

I take the elevator back to the second floor, where Arachne is already waiting, her hands clasped nervously. I walk past her without a word, slamming the door behind me. She knocks frantically, but I ignore her, letting the sound echo through the room. It's only when I hear Apollo's voice that she finally stops. Lunch is a solitary affair in my room, and after, I spend the next few hours practicing hand-to-hand combat against the air, sparring with no one but myself. I don't emerge until dinner, when everyone insists I join them.

"Finally, I get to see your beautiful face, Octavia," Arachne exclaims, a touch too loudly.

Dinner consists of vegetable soup and duck, glazed in a sweet pineapple and sour sauce. I've lost my appetite, barely picking at the food as my mind drifts to the upcoming training scores. Will I get a 10? An 11? A 3? A 7? After dinner, I retreat to my room for a warm shower. The water relaxes my muscles, and when I step out, I notice the sweet, spicy scent of carnations lingering on my skin.

"You smell nice," Apollo says as he enters my room, his voice casual but sincere.

"Thanks," I reply, my tone flat.

The program starts, and Caesar Flickerman's face fills the screen. He greets the audience with his usual theatrics, but I'm too focused on the scores to pay attention to the rest. Wonder, the boy from District 1, receives a pathetic 7. Rubie, as expected, gets a 9, solidifying her status as a Career. Apollo's score comes next—a perfect 11. I feel a knot tighten in my stomach. And then, my name is called.

I hold my breath as the screen flashes. A 9. I exhale slowly, relieved. The rest of the tributes follow, most averaging around a 6. But Ashlee from District 7 also scores a 9, a reminder that I'm not the only one who's a threat. When the program ends, I collapse into bed, too exhausted to think about anything else. Sleep claims me almost immediately.