ALREADY GONE ⊗ | 006 train

I don't even want to imagine how many bitten fingernails are down the side of these seats. I'm certain that even the most thorough cleaning couldn't get rid of them; all the tributes that have sat here before me, probably sobbing into the knees tucked into their chest whilst they desperately look out to the sky hoping to wish away the pain on a shooting star ... forgetting that it is daylight outside.

I should be doing the same, really—it would fit with the narrative I've set myself up for. But I have figured that it is only Kit, Teddy and I who will be here at most and they are all I have of Six now ... not that I'd want to be reminded of Six anyway, but sometimes you have to take what you get. I sit with my head against the window, eyes focused solely on how my nails are far too good to be bitten off out of nervousness or fear. They are the icing on any fashion cake.

Part of me is actually very excited for this train ride to be over. Not because I get travel sick or can't bare watching the districts become a blur through the window, rather, I am hungry and I have been looking forward to one of the Capitol's meals ever since I volunteered. That isn't the only thing to look forward to either—to be treated like a celebrity, to have avoxes waiting on their hands and needs to fulfil any and every demand that either of us may have ... it feels correct. And to see the high profile faces of the Capitol in the flesh? That's enough to give me a girl boner.

Of course, I can't express such contentment when in the Capitol because everyone else will brand me as evil. This is a game of people and playing their part just as much as you play your own; wearing a mask to manipulate is second nature to someone like me and I do not see how that is anything worth punishing when other tributes will carry out far worse deeds. Almost everyone is going to end up dead through murder—which is so perfectly exciting for someone like me. My eyes must be becoming hearts with the thought of it ... sadly, I'm a hopeless romantic.

Wearing my heart on my sleeve becomes just an accessory when one is dressed to kill.

"We're safe now," I say to Kit, my eyes teetering on the edge of his gaze. "Well, for now."

He ignores me. It's probably for the best, I know that my honesty can be a little jarring, especially when someone has just been told they have the worst chances of survival. For every negative, there is always a positive—death means a celebration because you don't have to live anymore. Nobody else sees it like that, and whilst I would love to have a pair of rose-coloured glasses, they never seem to be imported to Six. I think I just stand on the line between being delusional and realistic.

My head turns towards the shadow that continues to pace back and forth down the aisle of the train. Teddy Ursa—the glory man, Six's own hero who proved that when everyone doubted him, he could. Unfortunately for me, he hasn't been able to replicate his own win on any of the other tributes since then. Tributes from Six have a habit of killing each other which makes me think Teddy Ursa is doing something right, at least, because at least it saves him giving two speeches about why his tributes deserve sponsorship.

Once is luck, twice is skill, though, and as of today, he's just a boy who was lucky and got to become a man.

His pacing is relatively off-putting. It isn't like he needs to lose weight, so there isn't any excuse to be exercising, especially at such a heartbreaking, emotional time like this.

"How much longer until we get there?" I ask him frankly. I don't think it takes long to dispose of a body.