The Mentor. (Cato Hadley)

Chapter Five.

Rewritten 03.14.2023

The opening music begins as the tributes climb onto their chariots, the horses leading District Two's chariot spray painted gold. The gold spray paint they used on me for my tribute parade caused a rash, I hope it's at least safe for the horses..

The tributes of District Two are dressed in intricate gold gladiator costumes, each one differing a bit in its own way. The boy's costume has a custom-made, metallic spandex tank top and and a gold leather underskirt. He has a custom gold Varaform chest piece, with a gold sash for a belt and a sheer gold sparkly cape. There's a gold leather lace-up armband on his right arm, and he's wearing a pair of ankle boots that are spray painted gold. The girl's costume consists of a custom gold metallic leotard, a short leather Roman style underskirt, and the same gold chest piece as the boy, except hers as a gold leather leafy neckpiece attached to it. She wears a semi-sheer gold metallic cape, two gold bracelets, and a pair of sparkly gold lace-up, side-zip boots. The two also wear golden headpieces, reminding me of the Greek god Hermes, made out of the same material as the Victor's crown.

If I was a stylist for the Hunger Games, I would just give the two machine guns and expose the underlying purpose of the district's true focus. "Well, at least your tributes have a better costume than you did," I look to the side, seeing the owner of the beloved sarcasm, Johanna Mason.

President Snow attempted to do the same thing he currently does to me to Johanna Mason, after she won the Hunger Games the year before I did. When she said no, he had her entire family executed, making an example out of her. Her and I share the same beliefs about the Capitol and President Snow, but she can speak about it more freely than I can. There's nobody left that she loves.

"Hello, Johanna," I nod as the parade carries on, each district getting their turn in the spotlight. "Quite the parade this year, at least they aren't trees," I gesture toward the two District Seven tributes, wearing paper suits shaped like origami.

"You still working for President Snow?" She asks softly, wandering ears having the possibility of reporting us at any moment in time. I nod, confirming her question and causing her to sigh. "I guess Twelve is in the running for a win this year," Johanna changes the subject quickly, drawing my attention to the last chariot, the one holding the two tributes from District Twelve. The two are quite literally on fire. The Capitol is going crazy for the two, throwing roses and shouting their names in excitement.

"Nobody is going to forget this," I say to Johanna, watching as the Twelve female blows kisses to the crowd. "Twelve has quite the advantage, good for Haymitch," I was quite fond of the only living Victor of the twelfth district, despite the fact that I myself took the life of one of his tributes two years ago. Him and I share the same vice, alcohol, although I am better at hiding it than he is.

Haymitch is also known as the laughingstock of the mentors, due to his substance abuse and his appearance to the public. On the outside looking in, people don't understand what we Victors have to go through. Haymitch won the fiftieth Hunger Games, a Quarter Quell where there were twice the amount of tributes. He won his games by using the force field at the edge of the arena to his advantage, resulting in the death of the District One girl who had thrown an axe at him, only for it to bounce of the force field and fly back at her, lodging into her skull. The Capitol saw this as an act of defiance, and killed his entire family as punishment.

Imagine that, imagine blaming yourself for the death of your family for nearly twenty-five years. Then, imagine this; being forced to mentor children you have every reason to believe are going to die, trying so hard to help them, bring one of them home. Imagine losing these kids, year after year, with nothing you could do about it. Forty-four children Haymitch Abernathy saw die during his time as a mentor. The pain, the handcuffs of the Capitol restricting him to ever escape the prison of the Capitol and become a free man. Nothing he can do, other than watch these die every year. So, like many other Victors, Haymitch has given up. He has accepted the fact that he's going to lose two tributes every year for the rest of his life. That's a loss for one person, that's a grief to carry with you. So he gave up, and he turned to the alcohol as the blanket you hide under to save you from the monsters under your bed. Luckily for Haymitch, he seems to have at least a tiny bit of a chance under his belt this year.

Johanna and I part ways as the parade exits our sight, going the usual loop around the city circle and then stopping for a photo opportunity in front of President Snow's mansion. "Finnick!" I exclaim, my eyes brightening at the sight of the Victor from District Four. Finnick Odair and I have an extremely close relationship, the two of us the youngest Victors to ever come from the games as well as both of us suffering the same fate at President Snow's hand.

"Hello, Marblyn," the Victor smiles, picking me up and spinning me around. I resist the urge to ask about his girlfriend, Annie Cresta, the Victor of the 70th Hunger Games. Finnick keeps the fact that he has a girlfriend on a tight leash, not wanting the Capitol to use her as leverage against him. When you disobey the Capitol, they take something you love. Finnick had rejected to meet a high ranking Capitol official once, and Annie was reaped for the game. Of course, that was no coincidence. I don't know what Finnick did, who he slept with, but somehow he got the Gamemakers to flood the arena. Annie, being the strongest swimmer, got the win. Not before permanent damage was done to her, though, as this was after she was forced to watch her district partner get decapitated.

Finnick, Cashmere, Johanna, and I are part of an elite group of Victor's; known as Snow's Victors. He prostitutes us, to anybody who has the money to afford our bodies. Usually, after the guilt of screwing a child sets into their minds, the people who buy us offer money, jewels, whatever they have to help them feel better about themselves. I thought maybe I'd be too young, being as I was fourteen when I won my game. I knew that they waited until Finnick was what they deemed of age before they sold him, sixteen at the time. I thought I had time, but Snow sold my fourteen-year-old, virgin body to the highest bidder the second I stepped foot in the Capitol on my Victory tour.

Since then, I've unwilling slept with many people of Panem, losing track of the amount. I've taken a page out of Finnick's book, though, and I longer take payment of money or jewels. I have more money than I'll ever need, but what I don't have, is all the information on the Capitol that I necessarily want. I use my body to find out secrets that I could use against President Snow.

"Loads of skill this year, Marblyn," Cashmere - another member of the 'sold by the Capitol' club - smiles at me, tossing her blonde hair over her shoulder. I wouldn't say Cashmere and I are friends, not like I am with Finnick and Johanna, but we're friendly. "We might just give you a run for your money this year, although Finnick did last year." Cashmere and her brother Gloss are the first pair of sibling Victors, winning adjacent games. Since they won, they have mentored together ever since. I guess it's part of the Career district brainwashing, although I always thought Cashmere should have more hatred.

I let out a sigh I didn't realize I was holding in after Cashmere walks away, Finnick holding my hand tightly. I do believe Janelle was stupid for what she did, when she was so close to winning. But nowadays, I wish I had done the same. I wish I had let myself die during the game.

"If it makes you feel any better, Rhindan's family has to force him to eat. He's torn up over her, he truly was in love with her," Finnick has a faraway look in his eyes, likely thinking of how it felt when he thought he would lose Annie.

With the tribute parade underway, that only meant one thing. Tomorrow, the tributes start in the Training Center, signifying the official start to the 74th Annual Hunger Games.