Eliza Cheyne//D4//Fin

18 * District Four * Female

She wasn't always like this. Elizabeth Cheyne had been a very happy child. She loved to giggle, and she always shared her toys. She played nice with her cousins, and loved to smile. She stills smiles, albeit for different reasons.

Pretty, that was always the word used to describe her. Adorable and cute were thrown around as well, but no one could deny that Eliza had been a precious child. Big green eyes and fat rosy cheeks. She was the kind of baby the Capitol would put on a poster. The pretty baby grew into a pretty girl then into a pretty pre-teen. When she saw the other kids in her grade start to get pimples she scrubbed her face every morning and every night to ensure it remained blemish free. It didn't always work, but it kept the worst of it at bay. Her chubby cheeks which had been so cute as a child were now becoming a problem. They thinned out only a little leaving her with a roundish face. It bothered Eliza but everyone else kept singing her praises. Eventually "you're such a pretty girl" began to turn into "you're a beautiful young woman." Her body, which had been thin and lean from career training became soft around the edges. Curves turned her silhouette into a form of power. She knew what changes had overcome her body and she knew what that meant to the people around her. The boys in her classes would stare at her chest and then offer to walk her home but that wasn't the kind of power she wanted. She wanted more. Eliza would walk through the district square, her dark hair pulled back from her face, lazy curls falling down her back. She'd flash her green eyes at a man through her long dark lashes. She liked how transfixed they'd become. How she had the power to render people speechless. Well, not all of them. She couldn't catch every man's eye, but for every man that didn't take a second look there was a woman that did. The market for Eliza Cheyne was limitless.

She's recently turned eighteen, with only one more year available to be reaped Eliza began to think about her age. A legal adult, she was starting to wane. Everyone knows a nineteen year old is practically an old lady! She could already see the changes happening. Lines around her mouth- thin ones by her eyes, and don't get her started on her forehead. She'd look through her hair, finding light gray. While her sisters ensured they were just a naturally lighter brown, Eliza knew the truth. She was aging and she refused to let time take away her beauty- her power.

Eliza's always been charismatic. The confidence that made people lust after her also drew younger girls under her wing. They wanted to be like her, so she showed them how. Of course they could never be Eliza, but she had her own little group of girls holding their heads high and batting their eyelashes at older men.

While these girls could never truly be Eliza, she was always jealous of their youth. While only a few years younger than herself they didn't have any wrinkles or gray hair. Their faces were soft and full and supple. Eliza kept her insecurities to herself, but wanted more than anything to be as youthful as they were. While in reality she was just as young as them, and the lines in her face were no where near as deep as she thought, Eliza couldn't stand the idea of growing old.

There were always rumors of what happened in the Capitol. Of how they made themselves look so strange and, more importantly, how they kept looking so young. Caesar Flickerman had been interviewing tributes for decades and still looked young. The rumors were chemicals shot into their faces, or special berries they ate. One of them, the one that stuck with Eliza the most, was that Capitolites bathe in the blood of dead tributes. The youth of the districts, once sacrificed on TV and claimed by the hovercrafts, are then drained and sold to the richest of the Capitol. Caesar Flickerman bathes in blood at least once a Games, or so the story goes. Eliza didn't have chemicals to put in her face and berries weren't really in abundance in district four so the chances of finding special age stopping berry bushes was slim to none. However, there were plenty of young people in District Four.

She's only had one bath, but she plans on more. It was hard enough just to do one. There was a girl- poor, a ward of the system that often forgets the children in it. This girl- Tiff, she wanted to be a part of Eliza's little group. Of course the Cheyne girl welcomed her with open arms. She invited her over to her house, feed her a good meal and lured her upstairs.

"You're such a beautiful girl, Tiff," Eliza crooned, brushing the girl's hair behind her ear. "Do you have anyone special in your life?"

No. She didn't. Another hour of talk and Eliza had discovered that the orphanage was beyond full capacity and since Tiff was nearing her eighteenth birthday she only had a few weeks to find a new home before being kicked out completely. Eliza put on her best frown, holding the girl close and wiping her tears away.

"You can stay with me, Tiff. You can stay as long as you like," She kissed the girl's forehead and offered to cut her hair. "Cutting ones' hair often signifies a new chapter in life, let me help you with your fresh start."

They walked into the bathroom, Tiff smiling to herself and looking into the mirror trying to figure out how short she wanted her blonde locks. She didn't even hear Eliza lock the door behind her.

"Step into the bath tub so the hair is easier to clean up," Eliza said, pulling the scissors out of a drawer. They were made of shiny metal, heavy, and freshly sharpened. Tiff climbed into the bathtub, turning her back to Eliza presenting her hair for the sacrifice.

Eliza plunged the scissors into her neck. Then yanked them out and stabbed them into her throat again. And again. And again. And again. Tiff collapsed into the bathtub, her blood filling the porcelain as someone had already plunged the drain. It was messy, and it wasn't as much as she would have liked, but Eliza threw off her clothes and sat in the crimson bath. She smeared the stuff on her face, and ran it through her hair. Every inch of her body was covered in blood, as she shared her bath with the body that had given it.

Her wrinkles were gone, a new youthful glow had over taken her and everyone commented on how beautiful she looked. Her hoard of girls were ecstatic and wanted to know her secret- she told them it was just enough sleep. Of course she didn't tell them the truth. She didn't tell them how she hadn't thought of a way to get rid of the body. She didn't tell them that she cut up poor Tiff into smaller pieces, threw her into a sack and walked to the coast line. She didn't tell them how she had flung her unceremoniously into the water hoping the tide would wash her away before morning.

She didn't tell them how terrified she was she'd be caught. She couldn't let that feeling out, she could get worry lines.

So she embraced the coveted Capitol secret, and while it wasn't tribute blood it worked well enough. Her sisters have to know about her activities. After all, there was blood all over the bathroom and no matter how hard Eliza scrubbed the tub had been stained pink. Maybe next time she'd ask her sisters' to help her, after all she knows what they're capable of.

She keeps her smile up, presenting their little branch of the Cheyne family as normal. Their widowed father, mournful but sweet, Eliza the oldest taking the mother role to her siblings and keeping the house in order. Her two young sisters, innocent girls with their whole lives in front of them. The Cheyne household looks quite on the inside, but they're slowly racking up a body count.


Their mother, Tiff, and who knows how many others will come. They can't do this forever, Eliza knows that. There are a lot of undesirables in the District but even unwanted people are noticed when they're missing. And when they report their missing acquaintances, they'll say "Oh I last saw her with a young woman with long dark hair, green eyes- I think she was a Cheyne."

Eliza won't let that happen. That's why she's always thinking. If she wants to bathe in youth she has to plan- you can't just go out and kill a person, that's barbaric and stupid. You have to plot- to find the perfect victim and make sure everything is in place.

She also has to make sure her homework is finished by morning.