The Writer Games | Once In A Lifetime & World Edition

Welcome: Chelsea Thornglade

My stylist, Des, handed  me a large bag, I assumed it was for one of many dresses that he had  tailored specifically for me. He shooed me away to get changed into it  for my interview, whilst he got all the make-up and products ready.

Gently pulling out the  dress, I gasped in awe; it was the most beautiful dress I had ever seen.  As I didn't want to dress up for the Capitol, Des had to coax me into  wearing "good clothes" every single time I had to make a public  appearance - at least he let me wear whatever I wanted when I was out of  the public eye and away for any paparazzi. My escort, on the other hand  - whom I still didn't know the name of, but just called her Sunflower -  kept nagging me to wear all those "nice, pretty dresses" that were  provided for me. Who did she think she was, my mum? Hah, I didn't have  one.

Anyway, the dress I  slipped on was a shiny silver colour that was strapless and shimmered  every time lights hit it. The material of the bust area was pulled from  the sides and tied into a cute, mini bow; the top had something close to  glitter splattered in a sophisticatedly elegant way that made it look  like sparks as they reflected the light in reds, oranges and yellows.

The make-up was  slathered onto my face: foundation, blush, lipgloss, lip pencils,  primer, eyeliner, liquid eyeliner, eyeshadow. They just made my face  feel heavy and want to sag under all of the layers that were applied to  my face; it made me feel plastic, even though the results turned out  spectacular. Encompassing my eyes were covered in gray, white, silver  and black eyeshadow to produce a smokey eye effect. And 'eye' was in  that sentence numerous times... Sigh. Pencil and liquid eyeliner rimmed  my eyes in a cat eye shape to highlight and bring out my creamy brown  eyes. A lighter coloured blush was applied to the contours of my face -  well, my cheeks, but that sounded weird to say. Yeah, I was a strange  girl. A few coats of lipgloss were applied to my "colourless lips", as  my prep. team liked to call them, to put some life into them.

I was next to go on  stage, seated next to Jer who was dressed in a white v-neck, shiny  silver jacket that was left unbuttoned, white canvas shoes that had  rubber soles, and some sort of material that they called jeans were  decorated with the same glitter-like... thing were his close-fitting  trousers.

"Good luck," he whispered.

"Thanks." I gave him a diminutive smile.

I managed not to trip  over whilst I walked up the stairs in my shimmering silver high heels  that had to make me at least twenty centimeters taller - okay, that was  an exaggeration, but, let's just say, 'high' was not a term they took  lightly in the Capitol.

"Hello, Chelsea! You're looking gorgeous, tonight!" Helvetica DeVil, the interviewer, praised.

"You look great  yourself, Helvetica," I mumbled softly. "My stylist is wonderful, isn't  he? This is the most delicately beautiful dress I have ever seen and  worn."

"Ah, of course, Des is such a fine stylist; he should design some of my clothes," she hinted and the audience chuckled.

Oh. The audience. I had  forgotten about them momentarily. I wished they were just quiet, mute,  so I wouldn't have to worry so much about speaking. I was shy when  talking to and meeting new people; I'd be as quiet as something called a  mouse and people would ask me to repeat myself multitudinous times and I  tried speaking up, but I ended up repeating everything at the same  volume, but that was mostly with adults. I hated it.

"I've got some questions for you, dear," Helvetica proclaimed.

I nodded my head without uttering a sound.

"What is your strategy for these Games?"

"I would tell you, but then I'd have to kill you," I joked mutely.

"What's that? Could you speak up, please?"

I repeated myself  several more times, until everyone could hear. Panic-stricken and shock  filled their already animated faces and gasps of horror reverberated.

"You'd kill me?" Miss DeVil asked, aghast.

"No." It was true; I wouldn't, since I thought killing was wrong, even though didn't particularly like her. "It was a quote."

"Oh." She breathed out a sigh of relief, along with the audience, some of them even began to laugh.

More confidence grew, but I could tell that Helvetica disliked me.

After regaining her equanimity, she questioned, "What makes you a contender to win?"

"Everyone's a contender  to win. We were all reaped or volunteered and all of us want to just go  home or to bring honour to our districts. So, you ask, what makes me a  contender to win? I have nothing to lose and nothing to gain from this.  That is what makes me a contender, while everybody has something or  someone, I don't. Not really anyway."

"That must be hard for  you." Don't put all your fake pity on me; I don't want any of it.  "Chelsea, dear, why do you want to win?"

"I don't really have a  reason to win or to live, but there is one thing." Thanks, Capitol, for  taking away my only family left. "Like I said at the reaping, I would  win for everybody I owe and I tend to keep my promises."

"No family that you love even?"

"No." That wasn't a lie.  When I saw Marcus in the Games, I loved him straightaway; but I never  did feel anything for my parents, as much as I tried, I couldn't.

"Alright then. Who are the biggest and smallest threats in the Games?"

"Anyone could be a threat, even the weakest person could if you weren't careful."

Annoyance crossed her fiery features. Were my answers too vague for her liking?

"How far do you hope to make it?" She interrogated me, disinterested in my answer.

"Right to the end."

"Of course, so does everyone else." Well, then, why did you ask? "Why does your surname sound so familiar?"

She knew about me. About Marcus. Probably about my family, too.

I gave her the most  obvious answer. "There was a tribute earlier this year called Marcus  Thornglade. He and Ivy were more than allies."

DeVil's eyes narrowed. "So you know Cathalina Ivy?"

That was easy. "Who doesn't? She's the Victor of my district; everyone knows her."

Helvetica was even more annoyed and frustrated. "Please, answer the question properly, Chelsea Thornglade."

"I am answering them properly." Just not the answers you want.

Before I knew it, her  hand flew across my face, contacting hard with it. Through the whole,  audience, there were gasps of shock, one after the other. Being used to  pain, I showed no sign of her slap hurting me, though it burned like  acid; I bet there was an angry handprint on my cheek. Without bothering  to hide my indignation towards her, I quietly started saying harsh  things towards her, some included little secrets about her; the Capitol  weren't the only ones to know things about people, they were only  vessels and if you knew how to infiltrate them, you could get a whole  lot of information. I had learnt bad things, criminal acts, whilst I was  living on the streets; they were bad, but they came in handy at times,  like now.

Luckily, before she could do anything, the buzzer rang and I cleared off. I hoped Jer didn't do anything he would regret.

Helvetica went through  with the basic questions and seemed absolutely bedazzled by Jer, who  also seemed to be liked by the audience.

"You volunteered, why?" She interrogated. I still didn't get why I needed to be saved.

"I- It's because- I did  it so that I could do everything in my power to save Chelsea. I hardly  know her." He replied. "She doesn't deserve this." He didn't deserve it  either.

Jer stared at me and I  at him. "Chelsea may act strong, like she could win and do anything, but  she needs someone to protect her and I'm willing to do that. She needs  to win - for herself." I wanted to shout out all my protests, but I  didn't; he couldn't die for me. He couldn't die at all. It should be the  other way round. I had nothing. I deserved to die.

But I wanted to keep my promise.