Capitol Crime | Hunger Games

1

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The Ride to District 12

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Lynnette Rosewell was alone in the third car from the end of the train as it careened down the track to the districts. She was sat so still and silent, that if someone were to pass by, they may just mistake her for a large porcelain doll rather than a teenager.

She wore an elegant pastel dress that landed just below her knees, a lace trim gracing the cuffs of the sleeves, and heeled boots on her feet that matched the dress perfectly. Her skin a smooth, pale milky white, void of any blemish, bruise, or spot.

Her hair was tied up in an intricate braided crown, pulling the light pink strands up off her shoulders and away from her face—save the two wisps hanging down to frame her jawline. The teen wore a layer of makeup upon her heart-shaped face, just thick enough to conceal the spattering of freckles across her nose and spreading up the expanses of her cheeks. She hardly needed any product at all, but it was part of the customary morning routine for any Capitol citizen. Not to mention the standards of the city caused the girl to hate the bland brown spots that muddied up her complexion, forcing her to cover them the best she could before she dared cross the landing of her home into Panem.

She stared out the window, chin propped up by a manicured hand, watching as the trees speed by in rushes of green and brown. It was beautiful. Such a shame she only got to see it on horrible days like this one.

Every time Lynn graced the train, she felt like an omen. A horrible, dark omen. The embodiment of evil, racing down from her cave to snatch two unlucky children from their beds and drag them away to their deaths.

The sharp sound of heels clicking across the polished train floors started her out of her haze, bringing Lynn's attention to the woman who approached her, appearing from the sliding car doors.

"Oh! There you are darling! I've been looking all over for you." Effie spoke in her usual upbeat manner, "Only a few more minutes until we arrive-"

"I don't understand why he thought this was a good idea." the girl scoffed, still looking through the glass, refusing to make eye contact with the woman.

Effie sighed reaching out and placing a comforting hand on the teen's shoulder, "Your father thought it was a good way to get you more... accustomed to the Games."

The girl ripped her gaze from the trees, "I don't want to be. You'd think he'd get it through his thick skull by now." she furrowed her eyebrows, contempt flashing through her eyes, "He's been sending me on these trips for what? Nine years now?" She scoffed, rolling her eyes, "My opinions won't change."

"Oh, come on dear-"

"It's barbaric!" the girl yelled, "How do people enjoy it? If they enjoy the senseless brutality of a mass murder that much, wouldn't it be easier to walk into a slaughterhouse than to set up all of this." she seethed, waving her hands around the decorated train car.

Effie grimaced, "Well, now, now, dear. It's done because a slaughterhouse would simply be too messy."

A slight smile made its way across the younger girl's face, but the hatred for her father and the occasion stayed behind in her eyes.

The woman sighed, removing her hand and bringing the girl into an awkward embrace — as she continued to stand while the teen stayed sitting — "But I do know what you mean. However, like I said, your Father thought that if you were a larger part of the Games then perhaps you wouldn't be so focused on trying to throw a wrench in his plans."

Effie pulled away bringing the girl to arms length, "But look on the bright side Lynnette!" she smiled, "You get to spend time with me and help with this year's tributes! It usually takes a lot of work — and I know you're not too thrilled, but I'm exhilarated to have your help."

Effie clapped excitedly, gazing off as if imagining how much fun she could have with her niece, "Oh, it'll be wonderful to have someone else with sense! Three people from Twelve," she shivered dramatically, "it surely is... something."

Lynn smiled, while she wasn't happy about being this close to the Games, her Aunt Effie's dramatics never failed to lift her mood.

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Word Count: 735