The Writer Games | Once In A Lifetime & World Edition

Finals: Conner Stansfield

I woke up crying. Before  the Games I had prided myself of not showing me emotions. The Games had  broken me though. They took every part of me, ripped them up into tiny  pieces, and threw them all over the place. If I was honest, I still  hadn't picked up all I the pieces.

    "Someone get Conner to stop crying!" Alec yelled as he covered his ears with the pillow.

    Mom turned on the  lamp in between the two beds. Even Victors had to stay in small hotel  rooms for their Victory Tour. They said that next year the  accommodations for the Victor and their family would all be taken care  of. A plane with rooms for each of us would have been a lot nicer than  these stupid hotel rooms. But there was going to be a next year. When I  entered these Games, I thought they would be a one and done thing, or  maybe they would have one every ten or twenty years.

   But no, every single  year twenty-three more innocent kids would be executed for  entertainment. One would end up like me, broken, scarred. It wasn't  fair. It wasn't fair that they could just do whatever the heck they  wanted to us, and we had to play along. Some days I wished that I had  killed myself in that room.

   "Sorry," I said. "I had a nightmare about the Games again."

   "It's ok honey." My  mom said. "It's about time for us to get up anyways. Maybe after we stop  by the Eiffel Tower for your Victory Tour, we can get them to take us  to Marseilles, so you guys can see where I was last year."

    I nodded and flipped  the pillow over, to the side that wasn't damp with tears. My mom was  still probably rambling on all the things we could do today, just like  she did every day before on the Victory Tour. I closed my eyes to try  and go to sleep again. But he was there. Perdu with his ghostlike  appearance was lying right in front of my mind's eye, just like when he  died.

   I opened my eyes  quickly. It would be useless to try and go back to sleep. So I grabbed  my breakfast, and excused myself to go to the next room over, where my  stylists would be.

    They had alway said  that I was a piece of work. My skin was too dry, I was far too thin, my  hair was too short. Really, it was a miracle they managed to do anything  with me. The three women flitted around me, snipping tiny pieces of  hair off with their scissors, making sure that my hands weren't too dry,  making any last-minute adjustments that were deemed necessary. Finally,  they fitted me with clothes. Every day I wore basically the same  outfit, the same black pants, a button up shirt, and a tie. Today the  shirt was red and the tie was yellow. Evan would probably comment about  how I was wearing Gryffindor colors.

  "We're running  behind."  Someone yelled. "Get him in the limo and take him down to the  Eiffel Tower. The family can come down later." With that they walked me  to the limo, shoved me into the limo, and took me down to the Eiffel  Tower.

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    It disgusted me how  they treated me like I was some sort of celebrity. There were probably  some people ranting about how they wanted Pip, Emily or Jace to win  instead of me, like I did whenever the results of the Voice came around. 

    Finally the ceremony  started. Evangelique and Helvetica made short comments about Perdu and  Celine's times in the Game. I stood there quietly, fiddling with the  loose thread on my pants. It was only a matter of time before my  stylists cut it off and forced me to find another way to not be  distracted.

   "Now let's have out Victor say a few words about the departed tributes." Helvetica said.

   I nodded and walked  forward, clumsily grabbing the notecards from my pocket. "Celine  Evalana-Fiona Pontmercy was a beautiful, feisty young woman. Her beauty,  and the length of her name, were only matched by her spitfire  personality. I think that Celine would have made a fantastic ally, and I  am truly sorry that she had to die." I watched as the interpreter  talked to Celine's family, both of her parents and two little siblings  sat there. Neither of her siblings were crying, although I could tell  they were holding back tears. "And I can see that Celine's brave spirit  lives on in her two younger siblings. They were lucky to have a sister  such as her, even if for a short amount of time."