Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
THE BROKEN ONE.
ELENA KNOWS THAT SHE IS the furthest thing from a strong competitor. Not only does her serious lack of fight training show this but so does her training score. The first year she went in, the young girl was given the score of five – quite low for that of a District Four tribute. Most people saw it as a sure sign she would be one to die in the cornucopia, herself included. However, it didn't happen that way, obviously. Elena Rogers was the girl who somehow managed to defy all the odds and emerge victorious. She highly doubts she'll be able to do it again.
So, as she stands in the room, she takes a deep breath. The Gamemakers are watching her from above, slightly interested in what she will do. Elena grabs some equipment and simply makes some basic lures for fishing, simply because she could honestly care less what training score she gets, they don't really mean much especially in these Games. They've seen all of them and what they can do before, they already know what they're capable of.
Her hands are rather shaky due to the slight amount of nerves that has arisen within her, mostly because there are people watching her. Attention is never something she has enjoyed, from the moment she was a little girl to now. Hence why the lead up to her Games was horrendous to her, on top of the whole walking into her death thing.
By the time she's done, the lures are looking somewhat good — nowhere near as good as the ones her brother used to make at home. She looks to the game makers and gives them a slight nod before fleeing the room rather quickly. Elena doesn't bother to make eye contact with anybody as she walks by, the other tributes watching as she leaves the room. Finnick had gone in before her and so he was more than likely already back at their floor.
She enters the elevator and allows it to take her back up to her floor, Finnick and Mags already sitting with each other at the table. The man sends her a sweet smile and she returns a small one, moving to sit down beside him so that she can be included in their conversation.
"How'd it go?" Finnick asks his partner who shrugs her shoulders. "Didn't show them too much, did you?"
"Not that I have much to show them, but no I didn't. Just made some lures so that they could see I can do something," Elena responds as food starts to be served. She grabs a plate and grabs some of the luxurious goods, eating the food slowly.
The three of them eat in a comfortable silence, enjoying the calm atmosphere that is currently surrounding them. They know that in a few days, any type of calm will be eliminated entirely, people will die and Elena knows she will more than likely be one of them. She's come to accept it, no matter how much it makes her want to break down and cry.
Later that evening, Elena lays in her bed with her eyes closed and her breathing uneven. Her hands are twitching and small whimpers escape her lips every few seconds as she's thrown back into memories of the worst few weeks of her life. Images of those who were killed, those who she killed, flash before her eyes.
