The Bloodbath

I didn’t spend much time talking to the other tributes. It wasn’t my priority. I didn’t believe that there was anything that they could provide to me during the training portion that I could provide myself. The cool thing about the Capitol is that they have a lot of money - a lot of money means a lot of technology. Not that they didn’t own all of it already, but the technology gives me all of the things I need. Views. People. Images. Places to medicate my thoughts. The only thing I needed these people to do was to die.

Instead of talking to the tributes, whenever I wasn’t training, I was in my room. I was reading. There were a lot of books there, you know? I figured those books would be helpful i some way. Maybe some theological revolution would cause me to think more than do in the arena. For a lot of my life, I was shunned for doing instead of thinking - these books, I hoped, gave me the space to think more. Look inward and find the slithering snake that knotted itself to the surface of my heart. I think of it as one of those green anacondas. So long that the number of times that it surrounds my heart with its full body, I am no heart, simply a snake beating. Thumping. Poisoning the inside of my body to create a hatred for life, for good.

There was a big ol’ thick book in the shelf that my room had. I didn’t really know what it was. But it called to me. Spoke to me. I read a few of the stories from it. It was kind of weird, the things that were inside of it. I didn’t know who this Jesus and God person was that was so highly praised. But there must be a reason for it, right?

Someone who is praised - loved - that much, has to be doing something right.

There were stories about arks that carried the last animals, small boys defeating men. Snakes, like the one that caressed my heart, being brought down and created to test those from good and evil. Those who have been enchanted in the hands of evil will fall under my spell and perish. Burning a slow, painful, mortifying death.

In my own religious theory, I am the snake God sent to test the world. While winning the Games wouldn’t exactly cause that - it’d give me the money, resources, power. September deserved to die in hell. That’s why he died in the Games.

The arena was hot. Humid. I felt like I was wearing something those Capitol pretty people would wear on those long, stretched black platforms with the bright florescent lights.

I can’t say God is real, or if he isn’t. I can’t even say that he’s the one that sent me here, or that the cards just fell into place at the right time. I can sure as hell say my destiny is real, though.


While looking around the arena and adjusting to the surroundings, I made eye contact with a boy. I didn’t know his name. I didn’t really care, but if at least one person can avoid attacking me, that keeps me safe to fulfill my destiny for another hour. All we ever have is time. All I need is time. I raise my hand in a form with my thumbs up, and he returns the signal. I don’t know how quickly he’ll change that thumbs up to a thumbs down, or simply a fist in my face, but it seemed good enough for me.

He would die eventually, anyway.

D2F CHARLOTTE BELLISARIO | INTRO

Patterns.

Her life was full of them.

Never altering, never breaking.

Training was always the same. Her mother’s expectations never falter. The stares that followed her through the streets. The looming sense of death. It was always the same, day in and day out.

Even today.

Charlotte was up long before anyway knocked on her door to come get her. She was used to getting up early, Mother always demanded it. They were supposed to envision their day, hour by hour, minute by minute. It was supposed to ensure the perfect outcome. If she manifested it, it would happen.

And right now all she wanted was to live.

The knock on her door was gentle. And without a word she was escorted to the ship and through the tunnels. They were dimly lit and smelled like mold, and she only hoped it wasn’t a representation of what the arena had in store.

But she knew deep down it would be much worse.

There was still silence as her stylist braided her hair meticulously. A crown of braids lay atop her head with a ponytail in the back and some loose strands in the front to frame her face. Lottie was dressed in a plain white cotton shirt, an obnoxious jacket, and even more obnoxious pants. At least the shoes are practical. The sound of the voice counting down cut through the silence like a knife. One last glance in the mirror, a polite nod to her stylist, and still not a single word spoken. Partly defiance.

Partly because she didn’t trust herself not to break down and cry.

There was a moment of darkness, and then she was blinded by the sudden onset of light. Her eyes adjusted and the Cornucopia came into view. Broken robots, scattered limbs. It was a graveyard.

Soon to be filled with real corpses.

There was no time to contemplate it.

Because the count had just reached zero.

And they were off.

charlotte enters.