Anonymous

Chariots

I'm unable to move, my wrists and ankles tied down. Another strap is over my shoulders and collarbone, preventing me from sitting up. My clothes from the train are gone, but I'm clothed in a short hospital gown. And of course, my knife is gone too.

My silver pendant is gone, and that panics me a little. It was all I had. But I remind myself that it doesn't matter, that it was just a necklace. It wouldn't have had any practical use.

My eyes are heavy, but I'm not tired. My lips are coated in something. The slightly reflective ceiling shows me that I'm wearing makeup of some sort, but I can't see it clearly.

I hear a door unlatching, and I shut my eyes. It's better if they think that I'm still unconscious. Whatever they pumped on through the vents is still making me sluggish, as though my body is moving much slower than my mind.

"Theresa, we have to get you dressed," a new voice says, and I can feel someone leaning over me. It's a woman, that much I know. Young, but an adult.

"I know you're awake. My name is Adrienne, and I'm your stylist." She undoes the straps on my ankles first, then the one over my collarbone, and then the ones on my wrists last. "I'm going to show you your outfit, and then we'll get you dressed. Your partner will meet us downstairs."

She offers a hand, but I get off the table without her help. I keep my face blank as possible, not wanting to reveal anything to her. I'll get another chance to escape. Just not now.

"I know we had a bit of a rough start, but I'm sure we can move past that, hmm?" Her tone is rather calm.

I stand stone still as she dresses me, checks over my makeup, and gives me shoes to wear. The outfit is ridiculous. The skirt has several leaves made of different fabric in the front, a dark purple back, and a slit up the side. The bodice is even worse- a shiny yellow tank top with a deep neckline, connected with threads. For my hair, part of it is tied back and the rest is left dangling over my face.

It's completely impractical, but that's probably the point. Any escape I try will be severely impeded by it. I guess they've already learned not to trust me.

Adrienne has a tight grip on my arm as we ride down in the elevator to the stables. My head is still spinning from the sedative, and it's an effort to keep standing. Essia, Quintus, and August are crowded in the elevator with us, and they spill out as the doors slide open. They probably didn't want to be with me any longer than they had to. All I have are the pins in my hair, but they're not even sharp.

Adrienne releases her hold on me as everyone else comes into sight. Nolan is stroking on of the horses, dressed in an outfit with the same theme as mine. But his outfit isn't quite as revealing, and I'd rather be dressed in it.

I wonder if the horses are trained to do anything besides pull the chariots. But the stables don't have any way out except to the City Circle, and that wouldn't do any good.

Adrienne and Nolan's stylist begin ushering us towards the chariots. Dawn walks over, and I avoid eye contact. "Make sure you both hold on, just to make sure you don't fall out," she says. Of course. Wouldn't want anything like that to happen.

The chariots begin to move, and the horses act like they've spent their whole lives waiting for this. But the ride is slow-going, and I don't like that people are watching.

Despite the ride's slow speed, the novelty wears off fast. I glance at Nolan, and his face is blank. No reaction to this? He must be somewhat affected, but he's keeping it quiet.

I could jump off the chariot and run, but there are guards strategically placed around the path. I'd probably be trampled by the District 9 horses before I could regain my balance to run, anyway. Not now. I'll figure out how to escape later.

We come to a stop before a balcony. A man begins to speak, welcoming us to the Capitol. Funny, I haven't exactly felt welcome as guest. More like a prisoner.

Whatever they used to knock me out hasn't totally worked itself out of my system. I'm still feeling dizzy, but now might be my chance. Most people, including the peacekeepers, are watching the speech. I could slip off the chariot and dart down a side street. My costume would fit in perfectly with what these people wear, although impractical in a long-term sense. The heels wouldn't last long.

I glance over at Nolan, but he's not paying attention. I turn around, getting ready to run.

I move, but Nolan's fingers are around my wrist before I can take a step off the chariot. "Don't even try to run, Theresa," he mutters. "We're in this together."

"My name isn't Theresa," I retort, wrenching my arm away. I despise that name by now. But I don't run. Nolan wouldn't hesitate to betray me, to alert someone.

Loud applause ensues after the end of the man's speech, and the chariots start to move again. Some of the people in front of us are waving, trying to win themselves support. But what's the point? In the end, it'll be on us whether or not we die, or have the guts to survive.

Except me. I'll get out of here before that happens.