Strangely red eyes bore into mine and it takes all I can manage not to cringe. My stylist clears her throat and motions for my prep team to leave the room. They scurry out the room, closing the door quietly on the way.

She, meaning my stylist, strides over to the exam table. She might just be the most horrifying creature I have ever seen. I can't see why anyone, not even a person at the Capitol, would dare to do this to themselves.

Coal black skin tight pants have been stretched over her legs. A leather jacket rests on her shoulders. Straight black hair is cut short and curls under her ears. The worst part is the red accents. On the black boots, the leather jacket, nails, her hair. Every speck of red appears to be blood. Her boots have crimson red splattered on the heels. Her jacket has splashes of it. Her hair has a crimson streak. Of course, it's not real, probably. I suppress a shiver at the horrid thought.

My eyes quickly dart to her face. I want to look away, but I can't. Her face is pale, really pale. Her lips seem to be pulled tight. They have a thin layer of red painted on them. But what tops it all off is her eyes. Tiny black pupils are surrounded by an eerie shade of crimson.

I suddenly realize that I've begun to breath heavily. I try to calm myself, but as soon as my breathing begins to slow, she motions for me to stand up.

I shakily get to my feet and stand in the middle of the Remake Ceter room.

"Take off your robe," She orders.

My eyes grow wide. "What? Wh-" I studder. I have no desire to let this strange woman see me stark naked, but I take off my robe quickly. It falls on the ground in a rumpled heap.

My stylist begins to circle me like a hungry wolf circles its prey. I resist the urge to pick up my robe and dart of the room, however, I remember what Juniper told me, 'No matter what, do what your prep team tells you to do.' I faintly tried to argue, but I was quickly escorted inside the Remake Center, so I couldn't catch Juniper's retort.

"My name is Isobel." She says as her eyes take in every inch of me.

Isobel. Isobel? Almost a completely normal name. Almost a familiar name.

I'm dragged out of my thoughts as she mutters, "I can work with this." I realize a tone in her voice sounds fairly pleased. I let my clenched hands fall freely at my sides. I realize that there's no reason to be afraid of this woman. I suppose looks can be deceiving at the Capitol.

"Come,"She demands, "Get your robe and follow me."

I do exactly as she says. I slip the robe on and tie the string around my waist and follow my stylist.

She leads me to a small seating area outside of the blank white room. There's a chair with bright blue cushions and a fluffy white couch.

I choose the bright chair and I plop down onto it. She sits, her legs crossed, on the couch.

"Are you hungry?" She asks. I nod.

I watch with wide eyes as she pushes a silver button next to the couch. Immediately, a plate full of wonderfully smelling food pops out of a slot in the wall.

How despicable. If only the districts had this much food at our expense.

My hate for the Capitol grows even more as she carefully passes the plate filled with a sort of steaming meat, a large handful of a kind of berry, and some noodles covered in a creamy white sauce.

"Sorry," She says, "There would be more, but I don't want you to ruin your appetite, "

I almost choke on a chunk of meat I've already stuck in my mouth. Is she joking? More? This plate, one single plate, could feed my three siblings and myself, for a whole day!

As I shove delicious food in my mouth, she speaks.

"So, District Twelve huh?" She quietly says.

I swallow quickly, then say, "What?"

She narrows her eyes then murmurs, "Oh, nothing."

I give a questioning look, then continue to stuff myself as she talks.

"Tell me, Annabeth, do you want to win?"

I nearly choke, for the second time this hour. Is this lady insane? Of course I want to win! "Um...yeah." I say, confused.

She nods then leans forward, so close that we're nearly face to face. "Then I suggest you do exactly what I say," She whispers.

I slowly nod my head, taken aback at the seriousness in her voice. Her crimson eyes are trained in on my face as she studies me. I feel a bit uncomfortable under her gaze.

I break the eerie silence. "So, what am I going to be wearing for the chariot ride?"

Her lips curve into what I believe is the beginning of a smile, "I'm glad you asked.

~◇~

"Almost done." A male member of my prep team chirps; I've learned his name is Marius. He's not so bad, neither is the rest of my prep team.

I've learned all of their names now, actually. Livia is the one with the strange black stripe of hair on her head and stripes. She looks very stupid, but is actually quite nice. For a person from the Capitol that is. Marius has a natural sense of humor. I could use a bit of humor to brighten up, being I'm being sent to slaughter in about three days. He has orange hair, dyed of course, the color of a sunset. His eyes go along with color theme.

Lastly, there's Prima. She's the eccentric one of the crew. She's very annoying. Very. She has hot pink hair that goes down to her ears. Sky blue eyeshadow surrounds her oddly purple eyes.

"All done!" Prima announces.

I slowly open one eye. I've been told to keep them closed since my outfit is a "surprise". I quickly close it as Marius nears me."Let's put her in it!" He says . "Ooh yes!" Livia echoes.

My prep team quickly helps me stand and get dressed. I carefully step into my shoes blindly. Less than five minutes later, I'm being told to open my eyes.

"Go ahead," Isobel orders.

My eyes widen as I see what reflects in the mirror. Every scar and blemish has vanished, leaving my skin smooth and soft.

My age seems to have drastically increased. Makeup has transformed my appearance to a fourteen year old to a sixteen year old in under a hour.

Coal black eye liner outlines my eyes. An ash colored substance shadows my eyes, giving my green eyes a deadly tint.

I'm dressed in a coal miner outfit, well, somewhat. Skin tight black pants made of a leathery material are tucked into leather boots that lace to my knees. A coal black jacket is draped over my shoulders. However, the thing that makes the outfit so intriguing are the accents. On my boots. One the shoulders of the jacket.

I look as deadly as death itself.

I shoot Isobel a questioning look, "What's with the orange?"

Marius answers for her, "They're sparks."

At first I'm confused, but then I get it. Fire. Sparks of fire.

Prima claps her hands, "It's almost time! We better get you out to the chariots!"

Isobel nods, "You all go on ahead."

My prep team leaves the room, talking about how District Twelve actually looks decent this year.

After the door closes, Isobel starts towards me.

"Annabeth, am I right that your district has never had a winner?"

I nod, my curled golden hair bouncing. I wonder why she's asking me this? The Hunger Games have only been around for thirteen years.

Isobel narrows her eyes, "I thought so." She starts to pace, "Has District Seven?"

Then I get it. It seems that the both of us have a secret. District Seven has had a winner.

I'm looking straight at her.