The Hunger Games (A Fanfiction)

Chapter 3

Sasha's P.O.V.

One day. One singular day. 24 hours and then I'm sent off to die.

Sh*t.

I probably did the wrong thing. Is there even a right thing to do? Maybe I should alliance with someone. But with who? Allison? Leah? Canyon? No. Definitely not Canyon. Maybe Jasper. But how do I ask? And when? After the interviews? During the interview? Like should I just look at the camera and say, "Hey Jasper! Wanna be my partner to help us survive through a giant bloodbath while we know deep inside ourselves we will have to kill each other eventually?" Nope. I can't do it. Too weird. All of this is weird.

Ugh.

Where's my designer?

Currently, I am sitting on an angled table, slanted so that I am laying on it, but still in a standing position. Kinda uncomfortable, but I didn't have a choice, I was strapped to it. Suddenly, my designer came out from behind a stingingly purple curtain. She looked like she was 7ft tall, but she was actually 4ft tall with diamond encrusted teal boots that had heels. I'm not even making this up, her boots' heels were 3 feet tall.

She walked up to me, looked me up and down, her sea green and unnaturally high ponytail bobbing up and down. She stared directly into my eyes with her metallic gold ones. "We have finished your dress, District 6." She spoke in her nails-on-chalkboard like voice, and I just barely resisted the urge to cringe. My designer had the annoying habit of calling me, 'District 6' and not Sasha, because I apparently took too long to say my name when she asked. So now, my name is 'District 6' or '#6'. Since I didn't like her from the start, and still don't, I don't give enough f**ks to know her name, since she obviously didn't care enough about mine.

I step out of the strange table-seat and follow my unnamed designer down the hall and into the bright blue and gold-rimmed changing room. "Close your eyes." Said my designer. I listen to her.

Wait, why is she telling me to close my eyes? Is she gonna kidnap me? Drug me? If she drugs me, what kind of drug? Chloroform? Sleeping pills? Maybe she'll just kill me. I don't really wanna die, but I'm probably going to die from tracker jackers in the Hunger Games, or something stupid like that. Anyways, back to the kidnapping thing. That won't really do anything. She can't sell me for money, and even if she did, I wouldn't be worth much. A short, 13 year old girl, who might possibly be high from all the drugs in her neighborhood, who is not that athletic. Not very much on the black market I would say... Oh, she's done.

In all my thinking and speculating, I didn't even notice that my designer and two avoxes were putting a dress on me. I didn't notice that they were pulling on my hair, doing something with it, and that they had put something on my face. What it was, I didn't know. Then, they had finished, and my designer told me to, "Open your eyes now, #6." I do.

I see myself, in a giant full-length mirror. I am wearing a black, sleeveless dress with a halter top, that goes down to my knees. It has a tight silver belt, and around the edge of the skirt there is a bright, sparkling train track that has street-lights that glow yellow and flickers every few seconds. I had on two bright blue ankle boots, and my hair was in two space buns. My face had just a bit of concealer, and my eyes' hazel-ish blue color seemed to be...enhanced? The heck? My entire body was glimmering with silver and blue sparkles. I kinda liked it.

"This is what you're gonna wear, so don't complain or anything. I worked my butt off making this, so don't even with me." Then, she just stormed off, or as much as you can storm off in 3 ft heels. So not much. The boy and girl avoxes follow her, and I notice the girl avox glance at me right before she disappears behind the curtain. I look at myself in the mirror again. I touch the train tracks on my dress. It feels cold and metallic, like it's a real train track. I poke the flickering yellow street-lamp and it turns off. I look back up at myself, and a small smile appears on my face. "Tributes #1-12 get in position for the interviews, which start in 10 minutes. 10 minutes, #1-12. Thank you." I hear the same voice as the one on the train say on the speakers above me.