And that was the thing about her, she kept on surviving. With bullet holes in her lungs and knife marks etched in her back. She never let anything get in her way, resilient. A fighter, not by choice. But a warrior at heart.
| the hunger games |
| pr...
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The anthem booms in my ears, and then I hear Caesar Flickerman greeting the audience. Does he know how critical it is to get every word right from now on? He must. He will want to help us. The crowd breaks into applause as the prep team is presented. Imagine Kai, Ivy, Neem, and Ace bouncing around and talking ridiculous, bobbing bows. It's a safe bet they're clueless. Then Mica's introduced. How long she's waiting for this moment. I hope she's able to enjoy it because, as misguided as Mica can be, she has a very keen instinct about certain things and must at least suspect we're in trouble.
Teak receives huge cheers, of course, they've been brilliant, had a dazzling debut. I now understand Teak's choice of dress for me for tonight. I'll need to look as girlish and innocent as possible. Willow and Nolan's appearance brings a round of stomping that goes on at least five minutes. I need to be very convincing right now because I can feel the plate lifting me up to the stage.
Blinding lights. The deafening roar rattles the metal under my feet. The audience goes insane when they see me emerge from the ground. Caesar walks me to the victor's chair. It is a single, ornate chair from which the winning tribute watches a film of the highlights of the Games. I tuck my hair behind my ear nervously as I wait for Caesar to say something.
Caesar makes a few jokes, and then it's time for the show. This will last exactly three hours, and it's required viewing for all of Panem. As the lights dim and the seal appears on the screen, I realize I'm unprepared for this. I do not want to watch my twenty-three fellow tributes die. I saw enough of them die for the first time. My heart starts pounding and I have a strong impulse to run. How have the other victors faced this alone? During the highlights, they periodically show the winner's reaction upon a box in the corner of the screen. I think back to earlier years ... some are triumphant, pumping their fists in the air, beating their chests. Most just seem stunned. All I know is that the only thing keeping me on the chair is the weight of my worries. Of course, the previous victors didn't have the Capitol looking for a way to destroy them.
Condensing several weeks into three hours is quite a feat, especially when you consider how many cameras were going at once. Whoever puts together the highlights has to choose what sort of story to tell. This year, they have to tell a story of a girl trying and failing to protect those close to her and then grieving her loss. I know I won, but a disproportionate amount of time is present on me, right from the beginning. I'm glad, though, because it supports the whole grieving girl thing that's my defense for defying the Capitol, plus it means we won't have as much time to linger over the deaths.
The first hour or so focuses on the pre-arena events, the reaping, the chariot ride through the Capitol, our training scores, and our interviews. There's this sort of upbeat soundtrack playing under it that makes it twice as awful because, of course, almost everyone on-screen is dead.
