Flooding Panem: The Hunger Games

Chapter Twenty Two: Winning

You will walk out with a smile on your face.  

Who in the world could smile now? Who in Panem has the right to?  

I stare at the ceiling from the bed. Outside the window, Capitol buildings glimmer through the darkness. Glass walkways shine with the light of a thousand stars that wink down on the city.   

I can't cry. That's what she said. But if I'm honest, I don't think I could cry anymore. It's not that I'm empty; I know exactly what I'm feeling. I'm confused, that's all. Several things are confusing me at the moment.

I'm thirteen and I won the Hunger Games. That makes no sense.   

Polla killed herself when a Career died.   

Marvel killed himself... To what end?  

The President of Panem is trying to control my every public move when... when...  

"I didn't do anything." I guess it isn't technically true- I swung a sword and shot an arrow. But aside from that, all I did was forget about a trap and talk to two guys who I didn't want to kill. They did everything for me.  

I stare at the window, watching as the sky changes from black to navy to the faded pastels of dawn. The stars drift away into the beams of sunlight that stretch to graze the crystal structures. I pull myself up and walk to the door to try the handle again. Still locked. I sigh and jump onto the bed. I just lie there, fiddling with my hair. I swear it's grown since even last night. I start plaiting it, skinny little things that I braid in with others so that they get chunkier and chunkier. It must be several hours before I hear the lock click.   

I bolt up onto my feet. When no one walks in, I make myself count to ten slowly and think before I make a rush for the door. Yon haven't done anything, Lilia. Everything's going to be alright. You only have to wait for two more days- for now, just be upbeat. But as I say this to myself, I realise that I don't need any persuasion to be happy- I'm too glad at the prospect of the end of this thing being in sight. I practically sprint to the door and throw the thing open. "Laxina? Hercule?" I call, breathless, facing the long corridor that has mine and Marvel's bedrooms along it.   

"Lilia!" A loud, Capitol voice bounces down the corridor and I grin at the familiarity. Errid. I call his name and launch myself towards him as he comes around the corner. The man may be an idiot, but I can't help but be happy to see him.   

I hug him tightly, and he hugs me back for some time before gently pushing me away. "Now, let me see you," he says, looking me up and down. He raises his eyebrows, slightly shocked evidently. "You're glowing! I mean your- your-"  

"The hair?" I say quickly, laughing at his stunned expression. Any fears I've had have disappeared. Terrifying as Coin may be, it's men like Errid who make up the Capitol. They are nothing to fear.   "Well..." Errid continues, still shocked, "you should head down to the makeover floor, you're on air tonight."   

I frown at him. Something's off. "Errid, are you ok?" I glance around the room; I spot the Avox man in the corner, staring at me sadly. "Is- is something wrong? Where's Laxina?"  

Errid clears his face with a dazzling smile. "Of course not, darling, everything is fantabulous! I think Laxina's getting ready, something which you should be doing right now too!"  

Errid's does a little shooing gesture with his hand, so I take the hint and go over to the elevator. As I'm waiting for it to arrive, my gaze drifts over to the Avox man. Our eyes meet for a moment; he coughs gently and rubs his eye.  

I frown as I step into the glass box, running a finger over my eyelid. But nothing feels wrong to me.  

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