Innocent

(Title in Progress)
A Hunger Games Fan Fiction by NikKi
== Chapter 1 ==
The four of us sit in absolute silence as the train moves through.
My arms encircle my legs, which are pulled tight to my chest. The beautiful white dress which I had been so proud of prior had been shed, to give way for simple jeans and a loose blouse. I dare not meet the eyes of my companions, too scared, too embarrassed. The exotic makeup which I had splurged with had become disfigured from the fall of silent tears, each one landing softly on my arms.
Emathac Grey stares out the window in stony silence, his handsome face solemn and unsmiling. Hours ago, I would have given anything to be in the same room with him, but I now am not so willing to give flirtatious smiles and sweet compliments. Nicole Winistine, our mentor, sat in thoughtful silence, her mild face looking down at her folded hands.
The only smiling one was predictably Annalise Carthage, our adoring escort. Ever since we had volunteered, she had showered us with praise- similar to every year, I think. The hot tears threaten to reappear as I realize she was the escort the year my sister had volunteered. I wonder if she remembers Carolina. 
District 2 has always been known for harboring many volunteers. I am no exception. I could have let the little child have any other girl volunteer in her place, yet the inexplicable yearning to volunteer overtook me. And so i did. So here I sit- in this train, on my way to my inevitable death. I suppose that I should be hopeful. I have an edge over the majority of the candidates, and an assured alliance.
Our district has always been a wealthier one- I can testify. But while I sat back in the wealth of my father, I could see the obvious poverty of the rest of the district. Every day, on my trek to school, I could hear the pain and groans of the workers in the mines. While District 2 had wealth, for every dollar earned, there is an one left wanting. From the richest of the rich, came the lowest of the poor. The ones who grovelled in the dimly lit mines, breaking their backs, working for greedy businessmen. Like my father.
My mind wanders to the Capital, a place I had only seen in pictures. Where excess and extravagance is customary. Where fashion and manners are status, and absolute waste is assumed. Glancing at Annalise, I understand a portion of the idiocy and eccentrics that is the Capital. As much as I resented my own District, the laziness and ignorance of the Capital outshines even the gluttony of the wealthiest districts.
Her talon-like nails varnished red, frozen magenta curls, light turquoise skin, and frilly dress were noticeable among the sophisticated monochromatic suits which appeared everywhere in my district. Annalise notices my fleeting stare, and cleared her throat. She smiles eerily, showing off pearly pink teeth.
"Would anybody like a sweet?" she asks cheerily. "We have a wide selection of them right here on the train. I cannot wait for you children to see the magnificence of the Capital. Tall shining skyscrapers- oh you should see it at night!" She rattles on with her odd accent about the beauty of the Capital. The way she spoke was as if a child was talking to another child, yet in an obviously superior voice.
"You know, I think I'm going to go to my room." Emathac announces in his deep and slow voice. I watch the dark haired boy, one that I had been so infatuated with, walk through the sleek doors of the train.
"Me too." I say softly, and rise from my huddled position. As I stretch out my legs, I notice how stiff I have become from the combination of hot tears and closely held joints. I wipe away the tell-tale tear trails from my cheeks, and silently follow Emathac down the hall.
"Well, see you, Sabina." Emathac nods at me politely, and walks through the sliding doors of his room. The doors are closed, yet I stare at them, thinking about the boy who went though them. The boy who captured the heart of every 16 year-old girl in our year. My heart, included. 
Shaking off the wistfulness which I was so accustomed to, I walk to my room. I could not afford to be in love in the arena. I cannot make the same mistakes as my sister.I take in the
The beautiful room is luxurious and elegant, even for me. I note the examples surplus in the Capital, and actually consider stealing the sparkling diamonds - no doubt the real deal - which hang on chandelier. I doubt anyone would notice, given the sheer amount of gemstones in there- one or two precious stones would not be missed.
I don't need the money. At home, I could buy a necklace with diamonds with my father's money. I guess that's why I always stole a few things here and there. My father is convinced I'm a kleptomaniac, and my stepmother all but ignores me. But I have friends at school- not the rich posh girls my father wanted me to associate with- who were poor.
Most of the time, I just stole an apple or a pear from the market, and sometimes I would take an earring from my stepmother (I've probably stolen from all by know), prompting her to throw the other away. It occurs to me that my father and stepmother (#4, I think) would be coming up on their one year anniversary. I wonder if they'll be a new mother when I get home. So is the disgustingly rich attitude of the wealthy.
But, the habit soon grew to stealing things at stores. Nobody was surprised when two Peacekeepers brought me home, or when the principal of the school called my father. But I was was the daughter of Granton Lasting, and the daughters of the rich don't get punished.
I lay my head down on the huge king sized bed, wondering if this was the same room Ariana stayed in. Wondering if she was happy to have volunteered. Wondering if she knew she was going to die by the hand of her boyfriend.
It was for her, my soul confidant, I volunteered. Because in the child's eyes at the Reaping, I saw the innocence which had graced Ariana's eyes. Innocence that did not know what bloodshed awaited her.
The tears came again, hot and fast, streaming down my face before I could stop them. So I didn't. The chime of a bell alerted me to the fact that someone was outside of my door.
Quickly, I wiped away the tears, and croaked out, "Come in."
Nicole walked in, her blonde head bowed, looking at the ground.
"What?" I ask, choking back another round of tears.
"I just-" Nicole's delicate voice pauses, and again I wonder how this melancholy girl could have won the Hunger Games at only 15. "I thought you needed a friend."
"So?" A cry wells up in my throat, but I change it quickly into a cough. The Hunger Games is not a time to show weakness.
"I know it's going to be hard. But I can tell you're a fighting spirit. The odds are in your favor. You've trained for this, and you have a reason to fight." Her voice, normally dull, resonates with a sort of fierceness that I see in people like Ariana. Fighters.
"I can't do this." I croak out, and looking into Nicole's grey eyes- eyes that have seen more than they should- and dissolve into tears.
She is only 19, but her eyes are those of an old lady- a lady who has seen friends and loved ones die before her eyes. Her small arms encircle me, holding me close. Of all the people to comfort me now, she is the one who understands. Yet she must see this every year until her position is filled by another unfortunate soul, to watch children sell their souls so that they might live the half life that is only for a murderer.
As far as mentors go, Nicole is one of the few that has not gone to ruin. Most turn to drink, drugs, or suicide, yet the only past you see in her is within her grey eyes. You can see that they have lost the youthful luster that resides in the eyes of girls like her. The thought comes to mind that I am one of many she has trained. One of many she may see die.
After sobbing in her arms- soaking her shirt, I'm sure- I pull myself together enough to look her in the eyes.
"How do you live with it?" I rasp, my throat raw from the silent screaming. Her eyes tell her story, of the sadness and darkness. This girl I do not know has my life in her hands, yet they are hands who understand.
"Most of them...they don't need me. I don't get attached. I stop trying to think about them dying. I can block out the pain sometimes. But...it always comes back in the end." Nicole whispers, and the teardrops fringe her eyes dangerously.
I hug her, this broken woman who must watch children she knows die. Again and again. Thus is the cruelty of the Capital- enslaving the victors in the bondage of suffering. The victors are beacons of hope until they snap. Until they snap mentally. Or physically. And then they fade into the background. Circus acts.
Nicole pulls away and looks me in the eye, with renewed determination. "When I was younger, my father would make me spend extra hours in the Advanced Training center for careers. I had to be the very best. The very top. There was no room for weakness. It was difficult- their goal was to harden your heart, break you until you are a vicious killer. Don't let the fear get to you. Remember why you are here who you are. And don't stop believing in yourself."
The intensity of her gaze was so focused, so direct, I could only nod. Whenever I had seen her before, Nicole's eyes were so calm, yet in the way of a pond rippling. But now her eyes are stormy. I had seen her before- she made minimal efforts to help the tributes, but I think, just maybe- she might now.
Abruptly, she stands up, and walked out of the room. As the sound of her feet walking down the hall tapers to silence, I watch Panem go by as the train sped along at 250 mph. Given the closeness of District 2 to Panem, I guess we will be there within the hour.
In the distance, I can see huge skyscrapers, so large that even miles away you can see their magnificence. There, I know I will be transformed into some type of beauty queen, and be just another pawn in their sick game. I can only hope that I can still find Sabina Lasting by the end of it. Should I make it there.
== Chapter 2 ==
The sound of soft bells ringing wakes me from a short nap. An Avox, a traitor to the Capital who had her tongue cut out, beckons for me to leave my compartment. Heavy silken sheets weigh me down as I struggle to get out of the soft bed.
A glance in the mirror is all it takes for me to realize I am no where near ready to be seen by the Capital crowd. My frizzy black hair is sticking up at odd angles, while makeup trails still run down my face- a painful reminder of what had passed an hour ago.
"Sabiiiiinnna!" Calls Annalise. In a flash, the small woman is at the foot of my bed, calling for Capital assistants to groom me. Her bright purple eyes glances at me in disapproval, as she surveys my unkempt appearance. "Hopefully your prep team will be able to fix you up."
A pained groan emerges from my lips, but Annalise yanks my body up. Her thick nails dig into my collarbone as she drags me into the dressing room. Two attendants oil, brush, and straighten my hair quickly and efficiently, while Annalise is holding up different outfits. She lays down two dresses for me to choose from.
When I escape from the dressing room- my hair silky and makeup fixed- I glance at the two dresses in distaste. The gaudy colors and tawdry decoration is typical Capital apparel. In my closet lies a treasure trove of beautiful things- most of which would be considered peasant clothing.
"What is that?!" Annalise gasps in horror. All I wear is a simple dark green turtleneck, loose and silky, with fitted black pants. Soft boots which are probably out of style even in District 2 comfortably fit my feet. The clothing fits me perfectly- another reason to hate the Capital. Their machines sew hundreds of outfits for tributes- all made in the few hours before the tribute boards the train. Yet, they only throw out the clothing When finished.
"This Is comfortable. I won't impress anybody trying to look beautiful." I grumble, and leave the room.
As I turn the corner to leave the hallway, I stumble into Emathac. My arms catch the first thing they can- his strong arms. His chin is right at my forehead, and he catches me in his arms. It's almost as Emathac and I fit together perfectly.
"Whoa, sorry." He says, and I only look at the ground, my face turning redder by the moment. My knees feel weak, yet there is steadiness in him.
"My fault." I mumble quietly, and then quickly run past him. Face slowly returning to normal color, I glance outside. The train has slowed to only a few miles per hour, so that the adoring Capital crowd could see the compartment of its beautiful tributes.
"Smile. Your smile today could change your entire experience inside of the arena." Nicole walks from behind me, and beams broadly at the crowd. It is the first Ive seen her smile, even during previous Hunger games seen on TV. The reaction is immediate. The frenzied mass's energy increases ten-fold, and the excitement becomes an obsession as people try to get as close to the train as they can. My mentor nudges me, and I indulge the crowd with a bright and cheerful smile.
"Is it always like this?" I breathe through my clenched teeth.
"Not usually. The last few years, District 2's tributes have grown arrogant. I am needed little." Apparent bitterness creeps into her voice, and I realize Nicole actually cares about the tributes. Denied of friendship, she was shunted to the side, forced to wear the grey face which it entailed.
I couldn't saw anything, but I grasped her cold hand, smiling at the crowd, and giving it the comfort I could never speak.
::::::::::::: ~ * ~
The sky is beautiful, shades of gold and orange and pink. From the second floor, we can see little of the expanse, but peaking above the tall structures floats wispy clouds of orange. In District 2, the use of light, rock dust and pollution keeps even the richer side of town rather dull colored.
"Even the Capital has found a way to tamper with the sky." The strong voice of Emathac startles me from behind. "Nicole told come that they puff chemicals into the atmosphere to keep it looking so perfect. In reality, it's just as bad as District 2."
I turn around, and face the tall boy. Despite my rather tall stature at 5'8", I couldn't compete with Emathac. His chocolate brown eyes stare disapprovingly at the bright city around us, aglow with soft lights in every color. Yet even in such a rigid state, his eyes are beautiful, penetrating into my heart.
"I guess that's how it works in the Capital. Everything is beautiful until you see the truth." I nearly clamp my hands over my mouth in surprise. The words fly easily and bitterly out of my mouth. Usually, around cute boys like Emathac Grey, I blurt out humiliating things.
He faces me, face serious and dark. His lips seem to part slightly, about to speak, when the tinkling bell signifying dinner chimes. In the background, I faintly hear Annalise's high pitched voice, but the rushing of blood in my ears and quick thrum of my heart occupies my attention more so.
I give Emathac a weak nod, and speed walk towards the dining room. My face is a deep scarlet, flushed with embarrassment and fear, when I arrive. Annalise and Nicole are seated at a long table, laden with a feast. Foods extravagant even for the most rich of District 2 lay casually on the table, surrounded by foods I had never even seen before.
"Now, sit down. It's rude to begin a meal without everybody sitting down." Reminds Annalise with a smile which, undoubtably, is considered beautiful to Capital citizens. To us, however, it is a smile fit for a clown.
One of the few things my father has taught me are manners. I gracefully sit down, allowing an Avox to drape a napkin over my lap. Emathac follows a similar suit, his face still stony and quiet. Nicole sits across the table from me, her mien similar to Emathac's.
The meal proceeds in silence, but I take mental notes of the exotic foods. A carefully bred animal called a Hoarst sits at the center- a Capital created animal which can be bred only one at a time. It resembles a giant pig, but with limbs which are quicker and thick hind legs. Overall, it is an animal more agile and decidedly tastier than a big or boar, while larger and strangely beautiful.
After only a small sampling of Hoarst and parboiled mockingjay eggs, am I extremely full. The rich Capital food is bursting with flavored, and my senses feel overwhelmed from the first bite. Yet, I pretend to be at ease and sip my water for the rest of the meal, unable to continue.
That is, until dessert.
Between every course, they serve a certain clear broth, chilled, with a similar consistency to water. Annalise informs me that it flushes toxins and excess fat from the previously ingested food, also increasing appetites. I hold my ground, until I see the massive platters of sweet cakes, and hot fudge, and whipped creams. Everything you could think of and never would have was there, yet changed into a way that can only be described as eating it in cloud form.
Annalise smiled As even Emathac dropped his cold resolve, and gorged himself on the heavenly foods. Cake, whipped lighter than air, which dissolved instantly into a hailstorm of flavor, and creamy soup which glided smoothly across the tongue. So many foods and more found room in my already stuffed stomach.
"Wasn't that delightful? The first meal is always the most delicious." Chirps Annalise, who seemed to eat next to nothing during the banquet.
"Mm." Is the only noise I seem able to make after being stuffed to the brim. For the past hour, I have only been able to eat, and eat, and eat. But as I sit dormant, overwhelming guilt takes me. Who was I, to gorge myself on such delicacies, as if I had never eaten well?
I am ashamed at my gluttony, and vowed not to eat more than my worth at the next meal. Annalise, obviously had learned to control her diet, considering her slender and lithe form. Then again, with Capital citizens, a woman could eat 100 pounds of food, and cut it all away under the blade.
Again I am reminded of the painfully thin bodies of children in District 2, the babies and young ones who didn't have rich parents. One Capital banquet could feed so many of them. My glassy porcelain plate, now stained with food, I look I at with disgust. How superior I sometimes felt, to feel pity for the poor, yet partake is such extreme opulence?
Emathac looks a bit queasy, and guilty, while Nicole rolls miniature caramel apples across her plate with a bored expression. Several times I attempt to start a conversation by opening my mouth, but a glance from Emathac shuts me up quickly. It is only after Annalise coughs awkwardly does a verbal exchange take place.
"So we meet your stylists tomorrow morning, first thing!" Annalise reminds us cheerfully. Our stylists, to beautify ourselves for the grand opening the next day, I remembered bitterly. At school, I had never been one for beauty of popularity- the opening would not be my forte.
"Mmm." I note quietly. Emathac gives a short nod of understanding. Annalise looks at us, as if to instigate more conversation.
"Ahem, I think I might go to sleep now." Nicole announces, rising from her chair. The three of us watch her walk away, her tiny feet walking quickly and softly.
"Goodnight." I mumble, the last syllable catching in my throat as I glance at Emathac. He nods, and watches me walk out of the room. Hands folded, head down, I raced out. Something about his glance embarrassed me every time.
== Chapter 3 ==
The room I wait in is blindingly white. The thin robe I am provided with does little to stave off the icy draft. My stylist seems to be taking their sweet time, I note as I glance around the room once again, hoping this time I'll somehow find a clock. My eyes gravitate to the window, and across the Capital skyline, pretending not to be impressed. You never do know when you're on camera.
A circular white couch sits in the middle of the room, with a silver table on the inside. The bare walls show no indication of a door, but I knew there was one somewhere. Another shiver runs through me- the consquence of the cold air blowing from some unforseen draft.
After centuries, light shines through the silhouette of a door. The wall opens up, and a tall, thin man walks in. He is a typical product of the Capital. His florescent green hair glows in the dark, no doubt, and his skin glows with an unnaturally pink pallor. With his gem-like eyes and lips textured with something like vinyl, it seems there were no part of him unaltered. He snaps two well manicured fingers- a cold, clear sound- and the table splits to reveal lunch.
"Hello." I breathe. He seems not to notice me. I clear my throat, but he only seems interested in the paella on the table. I take a small portion of the meal, stealing few glances at the stylist.
"Nicole told me that you like simplicity." The man's voice was breathy and soft, with his pitch much higher than my voice. He does not meet my eyes, but portions food into a white bowl, eyes fixed upon the seafood.
Two hours seem to pass by as I wait for him to expound on his comment, but he says nothings.
"Yes- I mean, I..." I search for an intelligent response, a witticism, a phrase, a word- "I do."
Category:Hunger Games Fanfictions