The Volunteers

Chapter 3~ Final Preparations

I used to think reaping mornings would always be the worst. That there was nothing that felt scarier than to wake up not knowing if the odds would be in your favor or not. It isn't until now that I realize I was wrong. Oh, so terribly wrong. There are much worse feelings to encounter. It is not being unsure of your odds that is most frightening; at least then you have a chance. It's knowing they're not in your favor that ranks the most horrifying.

Now, I sit in front of a mirror, staring. Just staring at my body that will soon be deceased. The room is silent as I cross over to the door where there is a tunic and pants waiting for me just like Cinna said there would be. I slip it on quickly, wanting to give myself some time to sit on my bed and get my thoughts in order. But I have merely a few seconds afterward before there's a knock on my door. I open it, expecting it'd be Cinna retrieving me to head out on the roof so Gale and I can get in our hovercrafts and go, but it's not. It's Gale who embraces me, squeezing the life out of me and causing me to stumble backwards a few steps.

"You okay?" his deep voice asks sweetly, though I can hear the depression stamped on his tone.

"I'm-" I begin to speak, but I realize that I'm on the verge of tears and clear my throat to rid myself of it's raspiness.

"I'm fine. I'll be alright," I finish sharply and back away from the hug.

Memories of the previous night flood my mind and anger replaces my fear and sadness. I scowl at him as I think about how little he seemed to care about his family and me last night. How heartless he was being. All he cares about is proving the Capitol wrong. I know I need to leave before I say everything that's on my mind and work myself up more than I already have. So, I storm past him, remembering that apparently we aren't on the same page and he's just another tribute to hideaway from.

"Catnip, wait!" he calls and I spin back around exasperatedly on my heel. I raise my eyebrows, waiting for him to continue, but he never does. His mouth opens and words never come out. I sigh and gain my composure as I walk down the hall to meet Cinna by the entrance to the roof.

Almost as soon as my feet hit the hard cement of roof, two hovercrafts appear. One for both Gale and I. My breath hitches in my throat as I turn to see Cinna. Maybe a reassuring smile from him can tame my racing heart that ticks two beats faster every second we get closer to our arrival at the arena. When my eyes find his, he nods, looking over me, and I turn around to see that a ladder is directly in front if me. As I place my hand on the rope, I realize how sweaty my hands have become. I glance over my shoulder one last time as if Cinna can take my awful circumstances away with the snap of his fingers. But he just watches as the ladder lifts me into the air, depositing me into the hovercraft.

I stiffly sit on the floor of the hovercraft and immediately, a women in a white coat approaches my. While examining her briefly, I notice a syringe in her hand and my eyes widen, but I feel immobile at the moment until she grabs my forearm with her icy cold hand. As the syringe is lifted, I jerk my arm backward, flashing her a scowl.

"Relax, it's a tracker. We won't have a problem placing it if you stay completely still."

I study her expressions diligently. She appears to have empathy written across her face and yet she has no clue what it's like to be in my shoes. But, I remain paralyzed and allow her to lift my tense arm and place the tracker inside me. My teeth clench together at the stinging sensation it gives, but I remind myself that there will be worse pains to undergo in the arena.

"So now they know where I'm at constantly?" I ask, referring to the Gamemakers. The women nods and flashes me one last look of pity before she walks away, her blond curls bouncing behind her as she does. I shudder at the thought of the Gamemakers knowing where I'm at during all times in the arena and possibly outside of it too if I somehow make it out alive. I'm rather disturbed by the idea.