The End of Innocence: The 72nd Annual Hunger Games

Prepping For The Interviews

"Max are you alright?"

The sound of a voice wakes me up. It's Ami. She has a first-aid box in her hand and a towel dabbing my forehead. I realise I'm spread out on the floor. A few blood stains on the neat carpet.

"Yeah. I'm- I'm okay." I lie. I stand up, but lose my balance quickly. Ami helps me stand and brings me over to my bed. I look at the clock above the window. It reads: '10:28am.'

"What- what happened?" I ask. She sits down beside me double checking my forehead every few seconds. My vision is blurred and my mouth is extremely dry, I don't recall the last time I drank a glass of water.

"You must have slipped and whacked your head. You went unconscious by the look of it." She replies. "Do you remember how it happened?"

For a small second I actually tempt to say I tried to kill myself. Maybe it'll get a reaction off her, maybe she'll feel so sorry for me, she'll try stop the Games. As if, she has 0% power to all of this. All the possibilities that swirl around my brain and I cannot think of any logical excuse.

"I just slipped when I got up off the chair, I guess." I say staring at the ground.

"Do you feel like you're going to get sick, or going to slip out of consciousness again?" She asks. I do, but it isn't related to the head. It's the nerves from the Games. I shake my head and I stand up. I do not wobble or tumble, it must have been a one-minute thing.

"Well breakfast is ready, Lesa's waiting, already getting done up for tonight." She says excitingly. "Not much to do to you, only a dab of makeup here and there, and to put your outfit on."

I smile. "Thank you, Ami."

She walks out and closes the door behind her. I try to recall what happened. I looked in the mirror and I hit my head. What exactly did I see that caused me to panic so much?

Back at District 9, you could pay a couple of extra coins for Medical-Training. I never thought I would need it, so I never asked for that small bit of extra change that our family had saving up. But John was smart and knew he might need that training someday. He once told me you go unconscious, you can't fall asleep as you could go into a coma and that if I get dizzy I need medication. Of course in District 9 there's no medication for such, only tablets we call painhalters, that's pretty much it. They aren't even effective, however The Capitol have medication for anything your mind could conger up.

I get dressed into a t-shirt and trousers and walk out of the room. Immediately Lesa's prep team from when we were getting done up for the Chariots at The Avenue of the Tributes are pinning her hair up in different styles and ways.  The sky is clear outside and the sun drags in its beams of light to light up the entire room.

"No no no, not like that!" One screams obnoxiously. 

"Oh my God, it absolutely has to be  the up-do!" Another yells.

Lesa stares at them all tossing her hair around in different directions. She looks tired and fed up with them, she has bags under her eyes and she looks like she's going to murder someone. I try make eye contact with her however she stares dead ahead with fire in her eyes.

Treena emerges from her bedroom, that's obviously more extravagant than our rooms. "Excuse me?" She screams. "Some of us are getting beauty sleep for tomorrow!"

"Sorry Treena, but we need to do up her hair." One stylist says calmly.

Treena walks over and examines Lesa's hair. I laugh at how agitated Lesa looks. She doesn't seem like the type of girl to care about her appearance. Treena holds up numerous strands of hair and feels them in her hands. I can tell she's judging her a lot.