the pros and cons of breathing. d9train.

"I am a fuckin' machine
I'm always strong and
I will never be weak"

♛

The sole visitor I'd had in the justice building had been completely unexpected. To be entirely honest, I didn't think that anyone at all would ever decide that they wanted to take time out of their day to say goodbye to me, much less that that would be a person who I'd never met before in my life. Fiona was kind, though, and I wasn't used to that feeling of kindness in my life. She thanked me for saving Fable, and said that she couldn't repay me. I told her that she shouldn't repay me. I chose to be here. I volunteered for all of this. I asked for it all.

When my time with Fiona ended, I was ushered out of the Justice Building by Peacekeepers. Their white uniforms and guns at their hips made them look important, but I knew that they were people just like anyone else. The Capitol had just liked them enough to give them a somewhat important role. No one ever saw their faces, though, and they weren't supposed to have kids, from what I'd heard. If I really thought about it, I figured that they may be close to being just as solitary in life as me. Perhaps they were even lonely, but I didn't feel that part of things.

Sure, I was a loner, living on the streets by myself for the last several years, no friends or family to call my own, but at least I wasn't lonely feeling about it. Being alone didn't bother me. What'd prompted me to volunteer wasn't because I was by myself all the time. It was because everything just seemed to never change. I'd had the same routine every day for the last several years, and nothing changed it until I made that step to volunteer.

Finally, something was different in my life, now.

As I stepped onto the train and the Peacekeepers departed, I saw that my District partner, Slate, was already delving into the food. I certainly didn't blame her. I didn't eat much myself, and here it was, free and right in front of me. It was almost too good to be true. I was certainly looking forward to the pre-arena pampering that was going to be happening, and apparently, it started now.

Slate turned to me and raised her eyebrows after she'd already shoved a significant amount of food into her face.

"Schoo wanch shum, cray-sheee?" She said, which I assumed translated to 'you want some, crazy?' which wasn't something I was going to turn down. Sure, she'd called me crazy, but she wasn't wrong in that. A big grin crossed my face and I immediately grabbed a couple of the croissants that she'd been eating out of the pile of. After that, I made my way to the large plate of chicken wings that were set out and grabbed some, quickly eating two and still holding another in my hand by the time a door on the train slid open. I turned to see who I recognized as one of District Nine's old victors who was likely assigned to be our mentor, and pointed a chicken wing at him when I spoke through a mouthful of food.

"Wancha wing? Ish good," which I suppose translated to 'Want a wing? It's good.'

There was sauce from the wings all over my hands and face, which made me realize I must have looked ridiculous, but I didn't particularly care. I was hungry, and this was some of the best food I'd ever had in my life, and certainly better than any food I'd had since being on my own.