Courage, Compassion, and Capital

Chapter 3

Hazel

The rebels grabbed my arms, pulling me back inside the mansion. I kicked, clawed, screamed, trying to get out. But it was pointless. After about a minute of this, I lost all my energy. One guard stopped pulling me, and picked me up. I just hung there, all will to live gone. I wanted to cry, but it wouldn't get me anywhere. The cameras were still on, meaning they had just caught that on camera. I won't cry. I repeated to myself. I was carried out of the back of the mansion, and all the way to the hypertrain. This was the train the tributes took every year, just on their way here. But then I wondered, why are they taking me on the train...are we going to the other districts? It seems the other tributes were reaching the same conclusion. I turned towards the man that was carrying me.

"Why are we going on the train?"

He looked at me, sighing. "I want to tell you, I really do."

I nodded. "Can you at least tell me your name?"

He hesitated, looking around. He leaned in, whispering into my ear. "I'll tell you later, on the train."

I nodded. That was good enough.

As we approached the train, Katniss stopped, turning towards us. "This is where you will be transported to District 13." She gestured to the train. "You will be prepared for this year's Games, and after a week, you will be placed in the arena."

At mention of the arena, several of the kids who seemed to be younger than me, burst into tears. I noticed that Snow's granddaughter, Beatrice, was not one of those few. She stood, her face like stone. She was defiant, and obviously hiding her emotions until she was alone.

The man put me down gently, and I realized how ridiculous we looked. We were all short, but well fed. We were not at all like the Career tributes, or like the other children from the districts. We were...I searched for the word. Unique. Definitely unique. The first tributes from the capitol. We kept walking, closer and closer to the train. As soon as Katniss said her name, the door opened.

"In you go!" She said, grabbing the first tribute, and pushing him inside. And the next, and the next. Some of them tried to run, but it never worked. They were caught by the guards, and pushed inside. When I reached the front, I just walked inside, needing no prodding from Katniss. I would walk in with dignity. She nodded in approval after me. My emotions were threatening to make an appearance, but I was not alone yet. Katniss was the last to come inside, the door closing shut with a hiss.

"Go down the hall to your right. You will find a door marked with your name on it. That will be your suite for the next week, until we reach the training center, where you will be transferred to a hotel."

Beatrice took the lead, walking down the hall. I followed close behind, with the others following uncertainly behind us. I noticed the doors were in the order we were reaped. That means I would be eighth down the hall.

I reached my door. It was made of dark oak wood, and my name was printed above the door itself, on a gold plaque. It was a lot of effort for a girl who might be dead in a week. I opened the knob, gold too, and stepped into my room. It had a huge bed, with velvet covers. There was a small desk, that took up a portion of a wall. Next to the desk, was a door, which led into the bathroom. There was a lounge on the opposite side of the wall, a huge couch, with about half a dozen throw pillows. There was also a small window next to the bed.

I walked over to the desk, seeing that there was a small, leather bound notebook, and a pen. I sat down, opening the notebook. I decided to make a diary of my time before the Games. If I died, at least Jack would know what happened, and would have a small piece of me.

Gosh, I needed to stop thinking like this. I could survive. At least, I hoped so.

I almost fell off my chair as the train lurched. We must have started going to District 13. I assumed it would take about a day.

I picked up the pen, and wrote the date.

December 25th, 3217.

I didn't know what to write. I just stared at the blank page. I closed my eyes, and started writing.

My name is Hazel Zinnia. I was chosen for the last Hunger Games. I am about to die.

I read the words. They were sloppy, and there were dots of ink from the pen. I tore out the page, balling it up and tossing it on my bed. I decided to wash up, I must look horrible from all the crying. I washed my face with some warm water and some rose smelling soap. I looked at myself in the mirror. I was scared. I could see that. I closed my eyes, hiding my emotions. When I opened them, I saw a girl, who wasn't afraid. I was ready for whatever was to come.