Sweetest Downfall

My heart was pounding in my ears as I walked onto the train. My mother had cried her eyes out and my little sister couldn’t imagine the pain, for she was only nine years old. She wasn’t even in the reaping yet, thank goodness. I pulled myself together and held my token in my hands, a ribbon from my grandmother that was passed down to me by my mother moments before I was taken onto the train.

I blinked hard, trying to stop the tears and to block out the flashing lights of Capitol cameramen. I stepped onto the fresh white bullet train and turned my head, flicking the hair out of my eyes when I caught the eye of another tribute. A tribute I wasn’t supposed to see until the parade.

His short chocolate hair was in his eyes, his deep and murderous eyes. I was taken in by them, I felt my lips part ready to ask who he was when my mentor, Mags, called my name. “Shay!”

I snapped my head over to look at her, she shook her head and the lines on her face seemed to sink deeper into her face as she waved me over. I ran to her and she took my under her arm, while my partner, a Career tribute named Herring, marched forward. She lead us to a television room and we sat and watched the tributes from Districts 1 through 3 get chosen and when ours finally loaded I watched myself get chosen. I saw the hands of a few girls start to rise as the annoying and unimportant escort called for any female volunteers but they all seemed to think twice and they simultaneously lowered their hands.

I furrowed my brow and sucked in a deep breath, why hadn’t they volunteered? Being reaped for the Games was an honor, but they all let their hands drop, all at the same time… I shook my head and asked Mags to replay the tapes starting with District 1. She did and I watched the original boy Tribute get called to the stage. He was frail and wasn’t built for the games at all, and when the District 1 escort called out for volunteers I saw at least five hands shoot up but they all fell when they looked in the front and saw the boy from earlier raising his hand, high and strong. He was called up and I waited for him to say his name, his firm stance led me to believe he was ready to kill the crowd if they said anything to ruin his glorified moment. He looked straight through the camera and at my face, and simply said. “Emilyn.”

I stood and looked to Mags, “Can you come and get me when the other Districts tributes are called and ready to be viewed?” Mags nodded to me and watched me as I left the room. I turned to a Train Avox girl, her mouth tightly shut, and asked her if she knew where my room was. She nodded and lead me to it, I smiled at her and patted her arm as I stepped inside of the rich and comforting room. I sighed and held onto the ribbon tied in a small braid next to my face, I rubbed the soft river blue fabric against my cheek and stepped in the bathroom. If I took a shower now and tried to scrape off as much of the dirt and grime as I could, my team of stylists wouldn’t have to waste time.

I sighed as the hot water rushed over my body; it was refreshing and calming in my personal Hell. I sniffled as I felt the tears threaten to surface again. It’s not that I wasn’t ready to fight for my life; it was that I wasn’t ready to kill for it.