Before I fall.. ~ One Direction in the Hunger Games.

Before I fall. ~ Chapter 6.

And now I know why I've felt so afraid the past few days. I cannot deny the Hunger Games don't scare me, but seeing President Snow in real life is far worse than entering the arena. He doesn't look dangerous, expect the scary look in his eyes, but I know he is. He's more dangerous than all the opponents in the arena. 

"Mister Styles," he repeats. "What a pleasure to meet you." His voice is unlike every other I've heard and his eyes are cold as ice and hard as stone. 

"President Snow," I say. "Nice to meet you, too." We're both lying, obviously. It is perfectly logical that none of us wants to be here right now. 

The horrible smell, a mixture of blood and roses, becomes stronger when he walks towards me. A shiver goes through me when I think of the proximity of my family and my few friends who are still alive to this man who despises me. Will always despise me. Because I outsmarted the hunger and poorness in the districts, made the Capitol look foolish by becoming more popular in their capitol than the Hunger Games, and consequently undermined his control. I'm the one who slipped the noose of poverty that strangles the rest of us. For a while, at least. Now I'm as poor as the rest of the Seam. 

But why does he hate me so much? I'm not a rebel, I never meant to undermined his control and I did not form a band to become popular. I formed a band because I wanted to have fun, I wanted to give people hope by playing music, the thing in the world I love the most. It's not my fault that two years ago, a Victor - a girl from District 4 - came to our district when she did her Victory Tour, and it's certainly not my fault that she heard us singing and forced the Capitol to let us tour. 

And why does he seem to hate me most? It's not that he killed my family like he killed Zayn's, and he didn't separate my family like Louis' either, but I'm the one who's going into the Ariana now. And given that I'm about to die, it's a weird thing that he comes to my room to talk with me. 

I wonder if Caroline knew about this, and if she did, why she did not warn me. But I don't think so. My old relationship with Caroline probably makes Snow distrust her as much as he distrust me. 

"Do you have any idea why I'm here?" The question annoys me. Why doesn't he just get straight to the point so we can leave this behind? 

I shake my head. It's better to act like I don't know anything, because the more he'll explain, the more I'll know and the less I'll forget. "I don't know sir. Maybe you wanted to wish me luck for the games?" I don't know how I dare to say the words, but I do. 

President Snow doesn't look angry at all. In fact, he looks happy, confident even, like I just proved something he'd known for months. "No, not exactly. But now that I am here, I could as well just say it. Good luck in the games." 

We're silent for a moment and he examines me until I say something. "Thank you." 

"You're absolutely welcome." 

Where is this conversation going? What is the point of scaring me and even making jokes if I'm going to die anyways? I don't expect myself to survive the games and I know he doesn't either. He has probably been spying on me for months, so he must know I'll do everything and anything to save my beloved ones. 

"The people in the Capitol aren't as pleased with the fact that you're a tribute as I am," he says. I'm taken aback by the directness of his short speech. 

"Why not?" I ask. After months of being out of the spotlights, I didn't expect that the people in the Capitol would still love me. They're not smart and I thought they would forget about me and the others in a matter of time. But hearing President Snow's angry voice, I know I was wrong. 

"They love you. And not only you, they love mister Tomlinson, mister Malik, mister Payne and mister Horan, too. They even love your family, and their families, because they're connected to you. They even love your clothing style!" The last thing is the most unexpected one. The people in the Capitol wear wigs, artificial colors who are too bright and high heels in every color. They paint their bodies, color their eyebrows and have earrings bigger than their heads. The fact that they liked poor, boring clothes from the districts, must be the weirdest thing I've heard in months.