The Colosseum

Midnight

Kova

I was conflicted at the end of Deveraux's show – I didn't know if I wanted to murder Ten or try to figure out his plot by sitting him down for a talk. Judging by how worked up I am over his recent series of tricks, I can't say I trust myself to be around. I might do something I'll regret later. Not to mention, after what he did to me in the Event Hall, the feeling of his oppressive force still lingers on my mouth. The kiss was definitely something I didn't want.

Most of the fighters went to the cafeteria for breakfast after the interviews, but I didn't. I wasn't hungry. I don't know if it's because I ate at the palace or if it's because thinking about Ten makes me nauseous right now. A part of me believes that what he did was impersonal – that he didn't have any ill intentions, and simply wanted to get a rise out of the viewers and Ezra. But I can't help but think that it was a win-win situation for Ten; he takes out his underlying rage on me for stabbing Josephine in the eye like Ezra did to him, plus he pisses of his archenemy by trying to confuse him into thinking we're aligned. It was well thought out, given the short amount of time he had to plan all of this.

As I pass through the café to get to the dorms to be alone, a rancid smell floods my nasal passages. Scoping out the territory, I notice that everyone's plates are full of gray mush that look like something a camel might have thrown up. Usually, omelets and pancakes are at every morning serving. What happened?

I recall the fires set off on the crop fields. I didn't think they'd effect the area so immediately. This must make the dinner at the palace every 10 days for the top fighters more of an incentive to be bigger and bolder. Speaking of, that dinner should be coming up soon...

I'm sure the audience hates me now, if they didn't already. How could anyone favor someone who creeps in the night to strike because she's too weak to do it in the light?

While everyone tentatively picks at the food, a woman with frizzy blonde curls and sallow skin mows through the meal like it's lobster Thermador, revisiting the line for seconds. When she turns to sit back down, an eyepatch covers half her face like a giant stain. Josephine. She usually keeps her appearances up so well, presumably to woo the crowds. Now that she's missing an entire eye, I guess she doesn't think she'll be pretty anymore.

Still, that remaining eye of coldness finds me in the corner, penetrating through me like a bullet. Visibly, her hands grip the tray so tightly that they begin to shake. Her chest rises and falls rapidly. Her jaw feathers. She's about to explode or breakdown. The cafeteria draws a silence, observing the stare-off between victim and offender. The instant she takes a step towards me, I threaten her. It's too early in the day for a fist fight. "Take one more step and I'll punch you in that empty socket."

People gasp at the brutality of my words, but Josephine gets the message. Undoubtedly, getting socked in the eye-gap will hurt like a bitch. Eyes are sensitive – even more so than knees. We all know that, so she backs down.

Ajax strolls in late to the party, but picks up on the tense vibe. Curiously, his hazel eyes picks apart Josephine and I while he stands next to me. He scowls when he sees Josephine gobbling down that mysterious, "edible" meal. "Jesus, Josephine, how can you eat that?"

Glaring at him, she slams her spoon on the table, rattling all the trays on the top. "It's not bad!" she shrieks. "You should be happy we have food at all..."

Furrowing his brows at her snap, Ajax leers at me. "Know why she's like that? It's just food..."

Evenly, I look him in the eyes, remembering when the two led me to the catacombs to ambush me. While I agree that Josephine is unreasonable in her response, I definitely don't feel entitled to telling Ajax that. "Why would I tell you anything?"