「 𝑮𝑳𝑶𝑹𝒀 𝑨𝑵𝑫 𝑮𝑶𝑹𝑬 」
❝𝙝𝙤𝙥𝙚. it is the only thing 𝙨𝙩𝙧𝙤𝙣𝙜𝙚𝙧 than fear. a little hope is effective. a lot of hope is 𝙙𝙖𝙣𝙜𝙚𝙧𝙤𝙪𝙨.❞
𝚒𝚗 𝚠𝚑𝚒𝚌𝚑 𝚜𝚒𝚛𝚎𝚗 𝚍𝚎𝚕𝚖𝚘𝚛𝚎
𝚠𝚘𝚞𝚕𝚍 𝚍𝚘 𝚊𝚗𝚢𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚗𝚐
𝚝𝚘 𝚔𝚎𝚎𝚙 𝚑�...
〔 GLORY AND GORE: PART ONE 〕 CHAPTER SIX — let the games begin.
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MY FEET DANGLE OFF THE EDGE OF THE LARGE, VACANT BED THAT SITS IN THE CENTER OF THE GREY-COLORED ROOM. My hands are splayed out beside me, timidly stroking at the silken sheets in order to distract myself from picking at my nail beds.
I can't decide between being exhausted or being restless. The night feels as though it's lasted a lifetime, and I find that after hours of interviews I'm barely able to process my own inner thoughts. But, looking back on the night, I wish I wouldn't have taken it so for granted.
In the morning, it starts.
I can hardly think about the Games without my stomach twisting harshly and a wave of sudden nausea striking through me. However, it seems that as much as I try not to focus on what awaits me when the morning comes, the harder it gets.
A soft knock at my bedroom door makes my head snap upward. I furrow my brows in confusion and glance towards the small clock that rests neatly on the bleak nightstand beside the bed. It's late, so late that I assumed I was the last person on our floor to be awake.
I stay still for a moment, considering not answering and letting whoever waits behind the door find me in the morning with such pressing issues. But then, I know exactly who it is.
It has to be him. Surely Sapphire and Poppy are not lying awake in bed, unable to fall asleep because of their worries concerning tomorrow's events. Mags, maybe, but in all the years I've known the older woman, she's never been one to disrupt someone with her own troubles. How I wish I could be like her in this way.
My feet hit the floor, sending a shiver up my spine with just how cold the polished concrete feels beneath me. I can feel my heart start to pick up speed, in the same fashion which it did during my interview.
I shuffle closer to the door and let my fingertips brush apprehensively over the door handle. I swallow thickly, hoping that he—if it even is him softly knocking at my door—has not given up and walked back to his own bedroom just yet.
My hand slides firmly around the handle and pulls it open slowly with a subtle click.
The first thing I see is his familiar green eyes, staring at me so intensely that it's almost worrisome. I inhale sharply to settle my beating heart.
