Writer Games | Masquerade of Martyrs & Family Ties

Task Four: False Haven - Males

District One - Cartier Graff

I had spent years of my  life completely devoted to training for the Games. I knew which herbs  were poisonous, how to build a shelter out of snow, and how to prevent  dehydration in a desert. Although that one was my least favourite as it  involved drinking a certain bodily fluid that was unfortunately not the  blood of my enemies.

The idea of a safe haven  was not new to me- it was often offered as a trap of some kind. So I  didn't trust the pearl wallpaper and gold finishings that greeted me  like a fond childhood memory. I had no desire to rest in the  velvet-lined cushiony chairs, or to run my hands over the furs my father  himself had skinned and draped across the chaise longue. The glass  cases brimming with silver and gold and gems of every hue offered no  ease.
I didn't believe for a moment I was actually in my mother's  store. Even though everything was in the same place as it always had  been, save for the floor-length guilded mirror across from me. No, only  complete idiots believed any security offered by the- oh God is that  really what I look like!

I rushed in front of the  mirror, running my hands over my bruised face, feeling the rough  scratch o unsightly stubble. My hair was a wreck, there were bags under  my eyes- what kind of example was I setting for the poor losers back  home?

I searched until I found  a golden comb in one of the cases, as well as a straight razor. They  wouldn't be able to get rid with all of the unsightly characteristics  I'd gained, but hopefully they would help. I used the purple silk from  one of the cases to wipe away the dirt and grime, and then pulled the  comb through my hair returning it to its former glory.

"Much better." I smiled,  examining my teeth before drawing the razor down my cheek. I felt a  sharp pain, followed by a hot liquid sensation running down along my  jaw. Red blood had begun to flow from a small cut I'd made.
I rolled  my eyes and cleaned the mess with the silk before trying again. But  something compelled my and to move closer to my throat. The harder I  fought, the greater the force drew me to slide the razor across my  throat.

I cried out angrily,  throwing the razor across the room. "Stop it! That is not what I want to  do!" I shouted. From behind me I heard a chuckle. But the only thing  behind me was the mirror...
I turned and jumped back. My reflection  was not reflecting me. Instead it was my face laughing and smiling,  drawing the straight razor across his face. Blood poured from angry red  wounds- I reached up to feel my own face and drew my hand back to reveal  blood as real as me.

"No!" I shouted,  slamming my elbow into the case to my right. Once, twice, on the third  hit the glass cracked. On the sixth it smashed. From the shards I pulled  a hand mirror- there was my laughing reflection once more. The nose was  missing and the eye cut open. I threw the smaller mirror across the  room and picked up a compact mirror, again seeing the same laughing  face.
I threw the small golden compact at the large mirror, making a crack in the glass. This didn't faze the reflection.

"What's the matter Cartier?" it robbed me of my voice. "Don't like what you see?"

"Shut up!" I threw a diamond as large as a baby's fist at it, making a larger break in the glass. "You are not me!"

"Silly boy, I am. I am the you that only you can see."

I shook my head to try and clear it from the fog. This isn't real. I am in the Games, this is another trick.

"Only you know just how to get under your skin." To prove its point, the reflection began peeling the torn flesh from my bones.

Endure it. I commanded myself. This can't last long.

"But it does!" the reflection cackled, speaking in sing-song. "I'm with you forever! You die, I die. You win, I win."

That did it. "I do not  share with anyone!" I pulled my fist back and threw a punch at the  mirror, attempting to end the infernal laughter. With each hit the glass  dug into my knuckles, a harmless wound. Finally, the mirror fell off  its hinge and dropped to the floor.