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Chapter Nine
THE 75TH HUNGER GAMES
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Nolan and I walk down the hallway before we part ways and head into our rooms. My covers are drawn back and I take a shower. I scrub the gold paint, the makeup, the scent of beauty from my body. All that remains of the design-team's efforts are the gold designs on my nails. I decided to keep them as a reminder of who I am to the audience. Perhaps it will give me something to hold on too in the days to come.

I put on a thick, fleecy nightgown and climb into bed. It takes me about five seconds to realize I'll never fall alseep. And I need sleep desperately because in the arena every moment I give in to fatigue will be an invitation to death.

Despite being tired, I can't fall asleep. I lay there for what must be hours, tossing and turning. My head is swarming with terrifying thoughts, as it did ten years ago during my first Games. I can't help but picture various ways of how I might die tomorrow. How friends turn against me. Then I see the face of those I killed when I eventually drift off to sleep. My sleep lasts maybe an hour before I'm screaming myself awake.

One hour, two, three pass, and my eyelids refuse to get heavy, I can't stop trying to imagine exactly what terrain I'll be thrown into. Desert? Swamp? A fridgid wasteland? Above all I am hoping for trees, which may afford me some means of concealment and food and shelter. Often there are trees because barren landscapes are dull and the Games resolve too quickly without them. But what will the climate be like? What traps have the Gamemakers hidden to liven up the slower moments? And then there are my fellow tributes...

The more anxious I am to find sleep, the more it eludes me. Finally, I am too restless to even stay in bed. I pace the floor, heart beating fast, breathing too short. My room feels like a prison cell. If I don't get air soon, I'm going to start throwing things. I run down the hall to the door to the balcony. It's not only unlocked by ajar. Perhaps someone forgot to close it, but it doesn't matter. The energy field enclosing the balcony prevents any desperate form of escape. And I'm not looking to escape, only to fill my lungs with air. I want to see the sky and the moon on the last night that on one will be hunting me.

I remember the first time I came out here, Monty was sitting where I am now. I wish I could have done more to save him. He deserved a chance to live. Letting out a sigh I set on the railing with my feet dangling off of it. The moon shines above me as the stars twinkle, reminding me that I barely get to see the night sky anymore since I am almost always on a train either to or from the Capitol and when I'm not I rarely leave the house. People talk, and they think I travel to the Capitol willingly, when I pass by them they alway send me a look of disgust before quickly covering it up.

I feel tears in my eyes but I refuse to let myself cry. I hear the door open up behind me but I don't bother to turn around. I figure it is an Avox coming to tell me that I have to go back to my room, but instead a warm arm embraces me. Turning my head to the side I see Willow standing beside me in her faded pink silk pajamas.

I don't say anything but she must know exactly what I am thinking about as she says, "I know what it's like to lose a friend. In my Games, it was one of the earlier ones, there was a girl from 10 I believe and the two of us were allies, but we became friends over the days in the arena. We made it to the final five before she was killed by the boy from 1. That memory of her being killed right in front of me still haunts me all these years later. I'm not saying that it will never get better, but with time the pain eases but the sadness remains." Willow spoke as she looked at me and then off into the city.

"It's not just that they were my friends, I promised Monty's father that I would try to save him." I admitted with tears falling down my face.

Willow let out a sigh, "And you did. You tried to save him," She tried to reassure me. "I'm sure his father appreciated that you cared so much for him."

"I guess it's better this way." I say sadly, causing Willow to turn to look at me confused. "At least he doesn't have to do what I have to do."

I've never actually told her directly why I go to the Capitol so often, but I think she knows. She gives me a sad look, "I know," she says in a tone that makes me wonder back when she was young if she too suffered the same fate. I don't question it, but I wonder if when she started to show signs of old age the people in the Captiol deemed her not as pretty as she once was and threw her aside.

Seeming to know that the direction of the conversation was taking a dark turn, Willow turned to me and spoke, "I don't think I ever told you, but thank you for taking my spot in the Games. But Ember, I don't want to lose you or Nolan, you guys are my only family. I don't know what I'd do without you. You got to look out for each other in there, but also remember how important Katniss is for our future." I nod my head, feeling bad that she's so worried about me and Nolan. "Well, it's getting pretty late, come on let's go to bed."

Back in my room, I eventually fall asleep. I get a few good hours of sleep before I am woken up by my door opening. Teak comes to me before dawn, gives me a simple shirt to wear, and guides me to the roof. My final dressing and preparations will be done in the catacombs under the arena itself. A hovercraft appears out of thin air, and a ladder drops down. I place my hands and feet on the lower rungs and instantly it's as if I'm frozen. Some sort of current glues me to the ladder while I'm lifted safely inside.

I expect the ladder to release me then, but I'm still stuck when a woman in a white coast approaches me carrying a syringe. "This is just your tracker, Ember. The stiller you are, the more efficiently I can place it," she says.

As soon as the tracker's in place, the ladder releases me. The woman disappears and Teak is retrieved from the roof. An Avox boy comes in and directs us to a room where breakfast has been laid out. Despite the tension in my stomach, I eat as much as I can, although none of the delectable food makes any impression on me. I'm so nervous, I could be eating grain seeds. The one thing that distracts me at all is the view from the windows as we sail over the city and then to the wilderness beyond. This is what birds see. Only they're free and safe. The very opposite of me.

The ride lasts about half an hour before the windows black out, suggesting that we're nearing the arena. The hovercraft lands and Teak and I go back to the ladder, only this time it leads down into a tube underground, into the catacombs that lie beneath the arenea. We follow instructions to my destinations, a chamber for my perperation. In the Capitol, they call it the Launch Room. In the districts, it's referred to as the Stockyard. The place animals go before slaughter.

Everything is brand new, I will be the first and only tribute to use this Launch Room. The arenas are historic sites, preserved after the Games. Popular destinations for the Capitol residents to visit, to vacation. Go for a month, rewatch the Games, tour the catacombs, visit the sites where the deaths took place. You can even take part in renenactments.

I struggle to keep my breakfast down as I shower and clean my teeth. Teak does my hair in a simple braid down my back. Then the clothes arrive, the same for every tribute. Teak has no say in my outfit, does not even know what will be in the package, but he helps me dress in the undergarments, a fitted blue jumpsuit, made of sheer material, that zippers up the front. A six-inch-wide padded belt covered in shiny purple plastic. A pair of nylon shoes with rubber soles.

"What do you think?" I ask, holding the fabric out for Teak to examine.

He froens as he rubs the thin stuff between his fingers. "I don't know. It will offer little in the way of protection from cold or water."

"Sun?" I ask, picturing a burning sun over a barren desert.

"Possibly. If it's been treated," he says.

We sit, as we did during my first Games, holding hands until the voice tells me to prepare for the launch. He walks me over to the circular metal plate and zips up my neck in the jumpsuit securely. He kisses my forehead and steps back as the glass cylinder slides down around me.

I lift my chin, holding my head high the way he always tells me to, and wait for my plate to rise. I feel it begin to raise and a breeze catches my hair and I straighten up. Just in time, too, because the glasss is retreating and I'm standing free in the arena. Something seems wrong with my vision. The ground is too bright and shiny and keeps undulating. I squint down at my feet and see that my metal plate is surrounded by blue waves spreading out in every direction.

I can only form one clear thought.

I'm glad Finnick taught me how to swim a couple years ago.

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I just wanted to say how much I hate people. Yesterday someone ran over my baby. He was a dachshund and I loved him. But the person that ran him over never even stopped to tell him, so I had to find out by looking for him.

It's crazy how someone can do that because if it was me and I ran over someone's dog or cat it would literally kill me. I would tell the owner as a crying mess. But I guess everyone isn't like that.

To the person that killed my baby, I hate you.

I've already had this chapter written, so the next one may come later since I can barely go an hour without crying.