night wanderers {marr}

It's oddly quiet outside the gymnasium, where I'm meant to be training. I can hear my footsteps echoing down the hall. My fingertips run along the wall next to me, cool metal calming my nerves and solidifying me in reality. An unusual concept given my current circumstances. I watch the path ahead of my, counting steps as I walk.

I'm not really supposed to be here. But at this point, the Capitol has already sentenced me to the worst kind of death imaginable, so I figure there's nothing more they can do to punish me. It's ironic, really. The Games are meant to be a display of control. But really, all they're doing is giving twenty-four of us the chance to do whatever the heck we want for a week. I think I'm alright with that.

It's late, and I'm supposed to be in bed. But I hate that room. I hate the floor-to-ceiling windows, the massive bed, the lighting, the controlled temperature. Everything is handed to me on a silver platter, and I hate it. I'm not sure if we have a curfew. If we do, I've definitely gone past it, and I've taken to roaming the halls of the floor above me. The twelfth one, where two tributes from another district are residing for the next few days.

I'm woken from my train of thought by something, or somebody, running into me as I turn the corner. I step back, eyes widening in mild surprise.

"Why aren't you asleep? It's two in the morning."