Short Talk Before The Games

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When I fully wake up, I realise I'm on the floor of my room rocking back and forth. A glass is smashed on the floor and its contents spilled all over. My head hurts like shit and my eyes are throbbing. I realise I was crying. I wipe my eyes and stand up, still in a daze. Outside is becoming bright and yet, the people outside are still cheering, ranting and raving. The giant screen outside is projecting previous Games, I don't know what one it is, I don't recognise it. The crowd below must be celebrating for the day ahead tomorrow.

I shake my head, reach into the drawer and pick out some pants. Once they're on me, I walk out of my room to the hall. The cold air hits me immediately, the windows are all open, probably to drain our smell so the rooms are fresh for tomorrow. I walk over to the table and I sit down. The giant window lets in many flashing lights from outside, but my eyes can't make them out. All twenty-four of our faces are being projected up in the sky. The anthem plays suddenly, which makes the free citizens below us scream and shout. People are drunk already with the buzz for the morning.

I wonder what it's like at home. An Official's son going into The Arena. It has happened before. His name was Poiren. He went in when I was only little. The hype in the District was beyond comprehension, not because of happiness like in The Capitol, but of nervousness. The people of 9 all knew his father, so in turn, everyone knew Poiren. Of course, I only have vague memories of that year, but from what I remember, people were betting on him. Only the very poor people were betting on what place he'd die in, not if he'd win. 

The funeral turn up was huge. I remember Mother saying how John will be watching me while they were gone to attend the funeral. Each person who attended gave their condolences, which was to give food or medicine, or even what little they had. It's a tradition to do so.

I wonder if that's what it'll be like when I die.

The view outside makes me smirk a little. It's beautiful, despite they're celebrating our deaths. As beautiful as the snow-capped mountains in the distance are, the view also makes me sick. The fact they're living it up here and we're back in the District dying and starving is incomprehensible. The endless skyscrapers that seem to go above the clouds. The way The Capitol seems to go on with no end. Our District Centre would be the size of a block here. 

I wonder if any other Tributes can't sleep. Out of nerves or not, tomorrow will be tough for everyone. There is only one way out of these Games, and that's to win. Losing cannot and will not be an option for anyone. I'm one of the youngest Tributes here pitted against many sixteen to eighteen-year-olds. I try to not let this thought get to me because I do have more brains compared to some. However, the size and weight difference of many Tributes like Vickin or the boy from 6 makes me nervous. 

A slight creak makes me turn around and jump out of instinct. I realise it's Lesa. She's wearing a green skirt and a weird t-shirt thing that wraps around her entire upper-body. "Hey." She says quietly.

"Hi." I whisper. She walks over and sits on the chair opposite me at the table.

"You excited?" She asks in a tone that is slightly not being serious. She doesn't make any eye contact. Her voice is soft.

I shake my head and let out a little laugh. "I wish. There's too much on my mind."

She goes silent and takes in the view looking out of the giant window. I observe her and not the view as I watch her eyes examine every building and firework that goes off in the distance. She looks so tired. Even in the slightly-dark sky, I can see the black bags beneath her eyes. In the distance, I spot the sun slightly rising.

"Brutally beautiful." She whispers after a while.

The thought of her killing someone tomorrow makes me feel sick to my stomach. The thought of even myself ending someones short life makes me tear up. I bring my knees up to chin on the chair as I allow the tears to drop from my eyes. "Lesa we're dead tomorrow."

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