FOOLS GOLD ✸ the hunger games

𝐩𝐫𝐨𝐥𝐨𝐠𝐮𝐞

PROLOGUE

DISTRICT ONE, PANEM

Every inch of her body is aching but she can't stop. The aches and pains are delicious and she deserves to feel every shred of them. It's a twisted way of thinking and she knows it, but she can't help it. It's the beliefs that have been drilled into her mind since infancy. Pain means she is testing her body's limits, and without testing its limits it will never be strong, and she needs to be strong, more than anything.

Strength of the mind and strength of the body. The two most important things in life, or at least that's what Headmaster Spartacus claims.

She knows that tomorrow she will no doubt struggle to walk, struggle to raise her arms from her side but she can't find it in herself to care. Besides, tomorrow is a Sunday, her only day off of the week. She'll have the whole day to recover before she has to return to her grueling training routine on Monday.

Sweat runs from her brow, tracing a path of faux tears down her face. It's likely the closest she'll come to crying for a long time. Every piece of exposed skin is a flushed pink and shining with a thin layer of sweat. She releases a puff of air, blowing the damp strands of hair from her eyes.

She pulls back for a moment, hastily combing back the pieces of her pale blonde hair into an updo that will keep it from her eyes. As soon as it's secured into place she returns to her movements.

Punch. Punch. Kick.

The chain connecting the punching bag to the ceiling rattles. It's an unpleasant sound but she ignores it and continues her actions.

Her knuckles are no doubt bruised, or perhaps even splitting but the sensation is so familiar to her, that her body is almost numb to it. She continues on, for how long? She is not sure. She is certain that it is a while from the way her body aches when she steps away from the equipment. She is quick to reach over and pick up her water bottle that she'd left with her zip up sweater and take a long slug from it. The water is cold as it rushes down her throat and she sighs in relief at the soothing feeling in brings to her previously dry throat. She sets it back down before picking up a towel and running it over her face and neck as an attempt to soak up the sweat. She runs a hand over her brassy blonde hair that has been pulled back into a tight knot and contemplates for a moment if it's a good idea to wring out her locks now or wait until she's in the showers. It's not like she'd be the first person to drip sweat onto the floor of the centre.

She stands there for a moment, soaking up the feeling of her aching body, taking it all in. The moment is broken when she hears the sound of footsteps, crisp against the concrete floors of the training facility.

"It's late," says Headmaster Spartacus. She casts a glance at the skylights. They take up almost the entirety of the roof to the facility and provide her with a clear image of the starry night sky of District One. Realising he's correct, she hums in agreement. "You should turn in for the night," he advises, "maybe take some time to relax, talk with your friends. Normal things for a girl your age."

She turns to face him and wears an impertinent look on her face. "There's nothing relaxing about the dormitories," she scoffed. "The only time I can relax is when the rest of them clear out for the night and I'm the only one here," she said as she looked around the room. "And if by my friends you're talking about Atticus you would be sorely overestimating the depth of our relationship," she tells him wryly.

Spartacus snorts before raising his brows and grimacing. "Hmm, I'd rather not hear about the shallow nature of any of your "relationships." I'm just here to give advice and I think partaking in the activities of your peers would be good for you."