The Capitol Games

Chapter 2

Life sucks.

I thought it was bad before, with my mom and me always hungry and my dad always distant and being poor and sad...

But being a doll for an adult acting like a two-year-old is way, way worse.

Darla is putting thousands of layers of make-up on me, with eyeliner and concealer and mascara and lipstick and millions of other knick-knacks I have never heard of let alone seen.

I know I may be being a big grouchy-puss, but I can't help it. The Districts are mean and too cheery.

"How do you look?"

I face myself in the mirror. The face that greets me isn't Scarlett Rosalina Snow at all though, it's someone new, someone I've never seen before.

She has bright red lips and very pale skin. Her eyes are lightly outlined with black eyeliner. She has slight color in her cheeks and her eyelids are a glittery gold color. I think she's me, since she's staring at me with the same amazement that I probably have on my face.

But that isn't possible. The real me has straight dark hair and dull grey eyes. The real me has bags under her eyes and tears in her eyes. Darla has brought out someone different... someone who has always been inside of me, someone that apparantly could only be seen by using make-up, of all things.

I stare at myself a bbit longer and Dalra chuckles. "That was the easy part. Come on, let's get you all waxed up."

I didn't know beauty required pain.

Wincing from the slight jabs after the hair was removed from all my body parts except my head, I bite my lip and listen for what's next.

"Hair!" Darla squeals. Again, too happy. Who cares about hair?

Turns out I do. Or I will.

I don't own a hairbrush, or any shampoo. I just use regular soap to wash out my hair every other day. But I added new words to my vocabulary as Darla introduced me to conditioner, sweet-smelling shampoos, hair curlers, crimpers, straighteners, dye, combs, and all kinds of hair accesories.

"But why are we doing my hair before I get my outfit on?" I ask.

"Oh honey, I'm just testing!"

I stay silent after that. If I had all these scented soaps and beautiful brushes, I would cherish them and never waste them like Darla is.

"Alright, sweetie, let's take a look at that dress of yours."

I watch in amazement as she taks out a dress from a closet. It's... not what I expected. It's more... intimidating than gorgeous.

There's a black amd white patterned bodice with a sash of blood red roses covering half of it. A long black skirt flows from the waist line, which is really low. It looks pretty, but I have a feeling that there's more to this than meets the eye.

(A/N: Look above to see her dress! Or something like it. It wasn't what I originally had in mind but I thought it looked ideal.)

Darla helps me into it, tightening up a few loose spots and adjusting a few extra roses on the skirt, but otherwise, it fits me like a dream. The dress feels like it was made for me, and not just because it fits well. It looks like it really fits my personality very well, maybe a little too well. I have a feeling that was Darla's exact intention.

"They're going to love you!" Darla sing-songs. She whips up my haor into some really pretty curls and we're off.

I'm kind of nervous for the parade. All those people watching me, hating me, knowing I'm the offspring of the offspring of their mortal enemy, and knowing that Katniss Mellark will be there, the girl who was part of my grandfather's death, the girl who started the rebellion.

I hate Katniss Mellark.

I watch the other Capitol children parade around, each looking very different. Each person is wearing something that represents themselves as a person. There are many different suits and gowns, but none as unique as mine. I'm the last to go out.

Several oohs and aahs sound from the audience. I can't help but smile as I walk around, hopefully getting the attention of sponsors. A few people were alive to remember back when things were switched, when the Districts were tributes for the Games. Most people remember the tyrant President Snow. Most people know I'm his granddaughter.

Suddenly, I realize what the dress means. I realize that there's white on it, for Snow. There's roses on it, for my middle name, and they're red because of my first name.

But Darla associated me with my grandfather the most. The black skirt represents his heart, and the cool feeling of it is how cold his heart was. Black like evil. Blood red. I'm like a walking image of everything President Snow used to be... and everything people assume I'm going to become.

The thoght disgusts me. I pick at one of the roses. I can't bear to ruin the dress, but I wish I had thought of why it was this way before I put it on and walked out to show everyone. I wish I could have worn something different.

Maybe I won't get sponsors after all. People will probably hate me now, if they didn't already.

The Capitol Games are going to be a nightmare.