awake and alive {noodles}

In the blink of an eye the door opened, and the peacekeepers whisked me away. I'm nothing more than a human sacrifice for the sins of the ones who fell long before my time. Yet my lips are sealed, and my eyes lock on the floor as I silently move forward. Fighting now would only get me shot while the rest of the world would stand by watching. Becoming a martyr isn't a wish of mine because I want to die my own way however impossible it may be.

Most have already left, but a few stragglers linger behind. All eyes are on me, and I feel my lips twisting into a casual grin forcing myself to pull the invisible mask tighter around my face - nobody will know the fear lurking inside.

My eyes turn towards the sky watching birds fly freely in the air. Somewhere in another world I can feel Chaske's beady eyes beaming down at me calling for my blood. I am the good child. The one that everyone loved. And now I'm being ushered towards a grueling and painful death.

The train is even larger than I imagined. I've never been inside one, and I guess that's one of the perks of becoming a tribute. Moving up the stairs, I stop before entering the door. My eyes glare at the district outside wondering if this is the last time I'll ever see my family, my home. With a slight nod of my head, I move inside. My chin drops to the floor.

It's beautiful.

Chandeliers hang over the tables. The same fabric that lined the chairs, tables, and curtains inside the justice building line the chairs inside. The carpet looks cleaner than anything I've ever seen before -

It makes my stomach churn.

How can I enjoy something like this when I know what's awaiting me at the Capitol? I can only imagine the pain Chaske went through marching through the arena, and soon I'll feel it. I'll wear it;

Will my arena be a frozen wasteland?

Grabbing a plate, I look at all the food spread out across the dining cart. It's only been a few hours since breakfast this morning, and seeing it all lined up in front of me makes me sad. Tears pool in the corner of my eyes, but I refuse to let them fall. Only the weak cry, and I am not weak.

Piling my plate with food, I finally take my seat at a table allowing my eyes to watch out as the train takes off; the people outside grow smaller with each passing seconds.

This is it.

This is my goodbye.