Charlotte's POV
I sit in my car on the train. I have already dressed into different clothes, and I have let my hair flow freely. I have been brushing through it for the last ten minutes, but I don't want to stop. It's repetitive, and somewhat calming, so I continue. When my arms finally get tired, I put the brush down, and I stroke the soft covers of the bed I sit on. I couldn't sleep last night. Well, not peacefully, at least. I had paralyzing nightmares about dying. I'm not really afraid of dying itself, I'm just afraid of how I'll die.
I muster up the will to leave the comfort of my room and go to the main car - the one that serves food. I find nobody but Missy in the car. She looks so proper; she has a napkin on her lap and she holds her utensils with the tips of her fingers. I walk through the sliding doors, and Missy only briefly looks up from her soup.
"Good morning," I greet, trying to be nice.
"Good morning, Charlotte," she replies in her Capitol accent. I might as well enjoy it while I'm still alive. Trying to be optimistic might take my nightmares away. I sit in a chair at the table, and I put two pastries on my plate. One is a blueberry muffin, and the other is a slightly raised brownish cake of some sort. I may not know what it is, but it tastes delicious. As I'm pouring some apple juice, I watch Daniel sleepily walk into the car.
"Good morning, Daniel," I smile. He smiles in return, then he yawns. I'm so nice today; what's up with me?
"Now that you're here, let me tell you what we'll be doing today," Missy informs us. Daniel sits down in the chair across from mine. I accidentally make eye contact with him as he pours his apple juice. He brushes his hair out of his forehead. I hope to God Himself I won't have to kill Daniel.
"We will be in the Capitol by noon. That's in about two hours, so I suggest you two get dressed a bit better than that after you eat," Missy commands us. Both Daniel and I slightly nod our heads.
When we reach the Capitol, I am wearing the same faded purple dress I wore yesterday, but my hair is now done up into a loose bun. Missy guides Daniel and I past an endless crowd of Capitol citizens. They look as if a rainbow clothed them all. Their pristine white teeth flash as they push each other around, smiling, vying for the tributes' attention. I look up at Daniel. He remains unphased; he won't let the Capitol get to him. And I understand, truly, because we wouldn't be here if it wasn't for the Capitol's bloodthirsty population.
Up ahead, I see the tributes from District Seven. Maybe I could get the female tribute to teach me how to throw an axe or something of the like. Or possibly the only twelve-year-old in the group - from District Four - can show me how to make nets.
When Daniel and I reach the twelfth floor of the training center, we meet our Capitol-assigned mentor. Since our mentor refuses to show up for really anything, this doofus is the best we have.
"Welcome to the Capitol," the man says. He is shorter than me, has bowl-cut, dark purple hair, and about six earrings on his right ear. His skin is tinted a light indigo color. I have to remind myself to be optimistic; but this guy seems unhelpful to Daniel and I.
"Hello," I force a smile, and shake his hand.
"Nice to meet you, Charlotte," he nods.
"Hi," Daniel shakes the mentor's hand as well.
"And it's nice to meet you as well, Daniel," the mentor smiles.
"Just call me Dan."
"Alright, Dan. Nice to meet you both. My name is Quincy," he nearly squeals. This is going to be a long three days. "I am your Capitol-assigned mentor. I will be the one to help you two through training."
Dan and I both nod. Then, without a word, we go to our separate bedrooms. As I silently shut the door, I put my back against it and slide down. I try to cover up the sobs by using my hand to muffle them.
"It's hopeless!" I whisper into the empty air. The tears start to drip off of my face and on to my shirt. "I'll be dead in four days, and I can't do a damn thing about it!"
After a solid thirty minutes of crying, I go into the bathroom. My face is red and blotchy, and my nose is running. I grab a towel and wash my face off with soap, and pat it dry. Then, I go back into the bedroom, and I change my clothes. Tomorrow's the first day of training. Then, there's the second day, along with the interviews. On the third day, we do individual training, and then we see our scores on television that night. The fourth day, of course, is when the Games begin.
I lay out my training outfit for tomorrow, and then I slip out of my clothes and inside a fluffy pair of pants and a silken blouse. I wriggle myself under the covers, and I eventually drift off into sleep.
I wish I hadn't.
I see a dark hallway. "Charlotte! Find mommy!" I hear my mother's voice call from the other end of the hall.
"Mom? Is it really you?" I ask.
"Yes, darling, come find me!" her voice beckons.
I gingerly step in the direction of the voice. As I do so, the floor starts to crack. I hesitate.
"Charlotte!" my mom commands. I step faster. The floor crumbles with each and every step I take. I can see two small feet through the shadows. My mom.
"Mom!" I cry, leaping across to her, over the sunken floor. I just barely catch the ledge of the remaining floor, right next to my mother's feet. I can't see her face, but I catch the faint smell of her perfume, and it's almost like a memory.
"Child, don't you remember? I'm already dead. If you want to find me, then follow me to the grave," she whispers delicately in my ear as her foot shoves me off the ledge.
I wake up, my palms sweaty. I wipe them off on the covers. The nightmares are never going away.
