A Story from District 4

Chapter 6

Isla

I am woken from the labyrinth of nightmares by three, sharp taps on my bedroom door, accompanied by the sing song voice that could only belong to Sabrina.

'Wakey, wakey, Isla!', she warbled, 'Come on... Up, up, up!'

I feel tired and irritable; the dawn glow peeking from behind the heavy curtains was much too bright and imposing. I realise that I am lying in a pool of sweat, my face felt stiff with tears.

I haul myself out of bed and into the shower. I un tie my hair, which was still braided and woven with flowers. Afterwards, I dress comfortably in a blue tunic top and black trousers, letting my hair flow in waves down my spine. I look in the mirror before leaving, and my eyes are still puffy and swollen.

There is another rap on the door, and without looking up, I shout, 'I'll be out in a minute, Sabrina!'

Hector snorts, 'Seriously? Please tell me I haven't woken up with pink hair and sprouted facial diamonds!'

I turn around, and I see him lounging leisurely against the door frame. His golden hair is tousled, sticking up at odd angles. His face, although grinning, seemed tight and strained. His smile fades slightly, 'Are you okay?'

I roll my eyes at his concern, 'I'm fine and dandy, DeVaine, thank you for asking.'

'Sarcasm isn't becoming of a lady, Miss Jackson,' he replied, his easy humour washes over me like warm water. 'You have any nightmares?', he asks casually, though his voice is serious. I nod.

'Me too', his eyes cast down to look to my throat, 'You want to talk about it?'

'No, I'm okay. What?' I ask self consciously, 'Have I got something on my neck?'

'No, your good,' he says intensely, before offering his arm out to me, 'We better be going to breakfast before the Capitol send out a search party for us.'

'Lead the way, DeVaine'

-

Conn had the appearance of someone who was once very strong, but after a time had become lax and lazy. He looked slightly deflated, like he had a puncture. His face was slightly yellow, as were his hands. His left eye had a small twitch.

I take the empty seat beside Hector, and reach for the stack of pancakes on a plate in the middle of the table. They tasted like heaven, the syrupy-sweetness ran over my tongue like a prayer.

'Isla, your with me for review, if that's okay?', said Conn, his voice still clouded with sleep, 'Judith is not well, so I'm afraid you're just gonna have to put up with me.'

Excellent, I thought, 'Is she sick?'

'Not physically,' Conn muttered, darkly, 'She is reliving her Games, Isla, it happens to us all.'

I look confused, 'Reliving her Games? Do you mean...'

'Every Victor has scars, Isla. Some come out of the Games with physical injuries, missing limps, gaping wounds, infections etc. The Capitol normally erase these, buffer you up, make you look pretty again', he muttered, a smirk plastered on his face, 'but most come out of the Games with mental scars, and the way that Judith won her games scarred her deeply.'

'How did she win?', asks Hector, spearing a dumpling with his fork and popping it into his mouth.

Conn took a deep breath before beginning, 'There were three tributes left, Judith, her ally Ajax and this brute from One, I think his name was Maverick or something. Anyway, there were three left, and the Gamemakers were itching to wrap it up, so they sent this large wave of locusts to drive them toward each other. And it was a deadly fight. Judith has told me she was convinced that Maverick would have killed one of them, and then it would be him versus who ever was still alive...'