Writer Games | Masquerade of Martyrs & Family Ties

Task Eight: Surviving Today /F - Esmerelda Mae

Esmerelda stood in  silence, her trembling hands spilling droplets of coffee over the white  carpet beneath her feet. No one else seemed to mind, a silent avox  simply coming over to clean up the mistake and then bow peacefully away.  Eventually, the hot cup began to burn into the small girl's hand and  holding it became unbearable; trying not to spill any more, Esmerelda  placed it carefully on the table in front of her.

"Don't you like it?"  asked Ash, draping his arm around Esmerelda's frail shoulders to try and  stop her from shivering. "Not everyone is a coffee drinker. Personally,  I find it far too bitter. You would probably enjoy hot chocolate much  more, anyway. You look like you need a sugar rush."

Esmerelda stayed silent,  the colour draining slowly from her face. Her brunette hair was tied  away from her face in two braids, secured with blue ribbons. Her outfit,  unlike the Capitol fashions that surrounded her, was a simple dress  that fell to her knees in white waves. Someone had draped a cardigan  over her shoulders, thinking she was cold and assuming that she was a  child, that she still needed looking after.

She was thirteen and she  had survived a lot more than most people in Panem could even imagine;  surely, she no longer needed 'looking after'.

"It's not as bad as it  looks," continued Ash, guiding Esmerelda gently to a sofa in the corner  of the room. He forced her to sit down, scared that she could collapse  at any minute."I've been a mentor for ten years and, although it never  gets any easier, you learn to...distance yourself from the tributes, I  guess. The first time always seems the worst."

"I don't want this to be  my first," whispered Esmerelda, shoving her hands in her lap to hide  the trembling and the weakness she was showing. "I want it to be my  last. I never, ever want to do this again. I want to go home."

"Soon," reassured Ash. "The moment it's all over and our tributes don't need us, you can go home."

"I miss the trees," was the only reply the small girl gave.

Within the small room in  which they were confined, people of all shapes, sizes and temperaments  milled about and attempted to make small talk with each other. On the  whole, they ignored Esmerelda. Occasionally, she was flashed a smile,   or someone would stop to compliment Ash on his caring nature. They never  stayed for long; the young victor unnerved them, reminding them of  their own insecurities that were so obvious in the trembling child. The  group of mentors took a while to adjust to their frequent newcomers.  They were not quite used to those as young as Esmerelda.

As the time drew closer,  the crowds began to find themselves seats or pour themselves one last  drink. Ash perched next to Esmerelda, making sure she was fine before  even considering joining his own friends within the Victor circle. Here,  everyone knew everyone else and Esmerelda felt more as if she was the  outsider rather than the newest holder of a great honour.

Around the room, screens  flashed on and bathed the crowds in a light glow. A camera flew around a  field of trees, swooping over an ocean and finally finishing at a  central island. Birds chirped in the soundtrack, almost drowning out the  monotonous tones of the countdown. The Games were about to begin.

"Are you okay?" asked  Ash, leaning over to his younger partner as the room fell into a tense  silence. "You can look away if you want. I understand if you don't want  to see blood, or whatever. It's hard."

Silently, Esmerelda  shook her head. She took a deep breath to steady her nerves, tensing as  she sat upright in her seat. She turned her eyes to the screen, watching  the numbers count down in time with her drumming heartbeat. She knew  the children competing. She had spent time learning their names,  watching them training, rooting for them in every little thing.  Esmerelda knew that the least she could do was bring herself to watch.

"Is this how mentors always feel?" she muttered, as the countdown reached its final twenty seconds.

"If you're talking about  feeling hopeless, then yeah," shrugged Ash. "I just wish there was  something I could do, something to help. Simply having to watch is  torture."

"No," corrected Esmerelda, finding her voice. "Feeling hopeful. Just crossing your fingers and willing that you've done enough."

Ash did not offer a  comforting reply. Esmerelda knew that she had not done enough. Having  won by what felt like complete luck, she had been unable to offer the  tributes any advice in terms of survival or interview technique. She had  been useless at securing sponsors, unable to even look Capitol citizens  in the eye to sign their slips without her hand trembling beyond all  sense of legible writing. She had not been able to reassure them, or  tell them everything would be okay.

Esmerelda had done the opposite.

Whenever she found  herself being forced to 'help' her tributes, she told them what to  prepare for. She warned them to expect pain and heartbreak. She reminded  them that being scared was okay, and that fighting their competitors  was not always the best course of action. She told them not to worry  about crying.

Most importantly, Esmerelda ordered them not to be scared of the monsters in the shadows.

Now, as the countdown  reached its final few seconds, Esmerelda could not help but feel that  every she had told them had been useless. When faced with sharp blades  and heartless murderers willing to take their life, being prepared would  do nothing. Instead, Ash's experienced advice of survival and weaponry.  It had been Ash that had got them sponsors and guided them through the  minefield of pre-Arena events. If either of District Seven's two  tributes survived, it would be completely down to Ash Matherfield,  Victor of the 364th Annual Hunger Games.

Esmerelda would be forgotten.

She had thought she  could fake enough strength to see the tributes through their first  challenge, but the moment the gong rang out through the speakers she  turned and buried herself in Ash's shirt. The Capitol material was soft  against her face, scented slightly with soap like the comfort blanket  she had when she was a child. It made her think of home, with trees  brushing the sky like paintbrushes carefully designing the sunset.

No amount of comfort,  however, would be able to drown out the sounds of the arena: the clash  of metal upon metal, screams being cut off with a single slash,  shouting, crying, everything that stirred memories within Esmerelda's  frail mind.

Even the footsteps, such  a tiny detail, made Esmerelda's heart skip a beat. The monsters in the  shadow were returning, threatening to haunt her every waking moment once  more.

Every time Esmerelda  thought of looking towards the screen, a noise would send her head  shooting back into the crook of Ash's arm. Eventually, her wrapped his  arm around her and brought her into a hug, comforting her as she  trembled. She was a Victor, destined to be one of the strongest people  in Panem's rich history but Ash could see past her façade to the scared  child that she really was.

Occasionally, the  beginning of a Games could go on for several hours. However, even though  it felt like longer, Esmerelda could have counted the minutes of the  bloodbath on her fingers. The majority of the tributes had grabbed  whatever they could take and ran. Those who had stayed had been killed,  swiftly but often painfully. When Esmerelda did muster up the strength  to pull herself away from Ash and look towards one of the many screens,  all she could see were crimson splashes of blood. It covered both the  floor and the Cornucopia, obscuring anyone that had been left. The  cannons began.

"Do you remember how I  said we could leave when it was all over?" asked Ash, taking Esmerelda's  small hands with his own. "When our tributes didn't need us anymore?"

Slowly, Esmerelda met  his gaze. The childlike glint from just a year ago had disappeared from  her doe-brown eyes, leaving behind a broken maturity in her young face.  She pulled her hands from Ash's grip, slipping the charm bracelet from  her wrist and holding her old companion, the teddy-bear, tightly.

"What?" she said, barely audible.

"We can go home now."