The Hunger Games (Writing Contest) [CLOSED]

Warner Cole-Interview

Hello again, it's Warner, Warner Cole, boy from District One, if you had forgotten. Rubs hand through hair and sighs. How have you guys been? Good? Good. Me? Oh, well my stay at the Capitol hasn't been pleasant and it's nothing the Capitol even did, at least not directly. Of course they're the ones that drove me here, which was infact the reason my stay is so unbearable. But the fact of the matter is this: my stay in the Capitol has been luxurious and rewarding. I was the one that destroyed any chance of happiness, no matter how fleeting.

I'm angry at myself and at my illness (which is what I decided on calling what is wrong with me now). I've had so many doctors privately visit me in my chambers and all of them tell me I'm fine. I think the Higher Ups in the Capitol tell them what to tell me, maybe to make my illness worsen and to make me fall into a dark pit of no escape. I must admit it would make for a good Games. You didn't know I'm sick? Oh, well yes it's all true. No the doctors don't know what's wrong. Nope, no, sorry. Stands up awkwardly and impatiently. I've got to go, interview time. You're going to video tape me walking there? Okay then.

I leave my room in a slate-grey suit. My electric blue hair has grown a lot since arriving not too long ago. It is now chin-length and worn in a small bun. My green eyes have grown tired and grey. I've been here for such a short time and they've already drained me. But who's they?

The walk to the stage is the best moment of my life. It's completely silent and my mind doesn't try to control me. The camera crew follow at a respectable distance, still recording my every move. I turn around a give them a genuine smile. This will be the last genuine smile I'll ever show, but at the time I didn't know it. I thought I had my life back into my hands.

I see the other tributes as I enter the backstage area of the theater. I ignore them. I'm the star. I'm the first on the stage. This is my turn to shine.

To be completely honest I left my room a little late, so I arrived almost exactly when they call my name. Turns and waves at the camera crew before walking out on the stage. The lights blind me and for a second I'm afraid I'm about to be killed right here right now. My mind shifts, the illness taking over. I fight to regain my composure. I fight through the answers, trying not to say too much.

"What's your favorite part of District One?"

I pause. I close my eyes. I take a deep breath.

"Are you there? Warner?"

I open my eyes and look directly into his eyes. I see something that looks like fear. He's heard the rumours and he knows they're true. I smile, but not warmly and inviting. No, this smile is cruel and deadly. The interviewer's hand begins to twitch as the silence between us grows.

I snap my head forward and close my eyes again and I groan. Take control. Take control. Take con

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l.

"What if I tell you that I hate myself?" I look up at the interviewer with pleading eyes. He looks afraid and confused. I guess this is my cue.