Liberosis - The Hunger Games

10

The rest of the training days had gone by in a blur, I had spent three-quarters of my time training with Beck, Elsie and occasionally Viva and Tiberius. The other quarter of my time I was getting death stared at by Sage the Knife thrower or getting followed around by Clovis. I didn't particularly like Clovis, he was cocky, ruthless and clearly only wanted Thorn on his team to get to me. It wasn't working, as soon as I reached the arena, I was going to get Thorn out of there and to the safest place possible.

Sylvia had spent some time helping me with my self-presentation at the interviews, I had learnt a bit about it from Finnick but Sylvia and Mags had both decided that playing 'the hot girl' was not my move. My outfits from the train and the parade had both portrayed me as something of an angel, Sylvia wanted me to keep playing the role of 'Capitol's Sweetheart'. Innocent, soft and smiley, it was a small part of me that I didn't really unlock unless I truly liked a person. Very few people had seen that side of me and now I was expected to show it to the whole world. No.

That girl was reserved for Finnick, for Addison, for the rest of my family, not for crowds to excited Capitol citizens ready to watch me die. I couldn't disagree, it didn't make sense for me to change my game now, especially considering they thought I had something with Finnick, a softer nature would balance out his charismatic personality. I was against using my best friend's fame to my advantage, but Finnick had surprisingly encouraged me to go along with it. We were practising walking in heels when a knock sounded at the door, an Avox handed Sylvia a small piece of parchment paper that she read. I could see the dread curtaining her face as her eyes scanned the page. "Sylvia is everything ok?" I ask, as much as I hated the Capitol, Sylvia had become a friend, she was actually a lot of fun to be around.

"It's the president, he wants to see you," She says in a vulnerable voice.

They wouldn't execute me, not now, it's too much effort to find a new tribute this close to the games. As far as I was concerned, I hadn't done anything wrong, it scared me to think of what was about to happen. Two peacekeepers escorted me as I racked my brains for anything that I could have done that was remotely illegal. I think back to the day on the pier, the execution of those three men, that wasn't going to happen to me, was it? I had lived in District Four all my life, I loved to swim, the water was a safe place for me and yet I still feared drowning.

It's such a formidable fear for me, I can't place an experience that I feel rooted in that would cause such a deep phobia. I think it's just the feeling of failing something that I know I'm good at. I've been swimming my whole life, to die caused by failing something I usually feel strong at sounds terrifying.

I'm led to a white room full of perfectly polished wooden furniture, the peacekeepers slam the door behind me. I'm left alone in this windowless room; a pungent smell of white roses fills the air. My eyes catch President Snow who stands by a bookcase on the left side of the room. Should I clear my throat, announce my presence, bow and beg for mercy. A sick side of me is tempted to garrotte him with my shoelace while he's unaccompanied. Instead of carrying out any of these terrible ideas I shuffle my feet awkwardly and wait for him to break the silence.

"Miss Hartley, please take a seat," The President doesn't even turn to face me, instead he pulls out a book from the shelf and flicks through some of the pages. I tremble forward into a plush seat that sits in front of a mahogany desk. President Snow turns to face me and it's now that I see his snakelike eyes in person, a wave of intimidation passes through me. I break eye contact, looking down at my hands, my nail pressed into the palms of my hands. "Tea?" He offers me, holding an intricately painted teapot.

"No thank you, sir," I say as politely as possible, I regret it as soon as I've said it, I just refused something from the President. It's like I can feel Sylvia smack me up the back of the head.