put it on me . alyssa

Why did she want to enter the Hunger Games? "I will bring glory to District One and my family," Jade managed to whisper, staring out the window of the train. Then, why wasn't she excited? She wanted to win, she wanted to become famous, she wanted this. Didn't she? It's what she'd spend her days dreaming about when she wasn't watching re-runs of previous Games and actively training. In fact, she'd been absolutely obsessed with the Hunger Games since she was a kid. One of her favorite non training past times was watching her favorite Games over and over again. Why had she been so interested in a game centered around killing kids? When she was little, she hadn't fully understood it. There was lots of blood, but that didn't mean it was real. She had loved the survival, the thrill of battle, the thrill of fighting against the elements all on a screen. It was adventure, it was fighting, it was living.

As she grew older and realized that some of those Reaped never returned home, she'd begin to understand that it was all real, but by then the brainwashing had taken full effect. She'd loved the thrill of a good fight, of a good challenge. A scratch, a bruise, a broken bone? Nothing she couldn't manage! When she watched those re-runs, she didn't see the pain, the terror, even the element of luck so often involved. She remembered sitting on the couch watching the Games with her little brother. He didn't enjoy watching them for the same reasons she did. He always felt pain when a tribute was killed, some pity. Jade didn't, but Gunner always did. He watched it for strategy, to watch survival, to learn how to survive. She watched it for the sport, but she'd learn a thing or two about survival whenever she watched it with him.

Gunner. Dagger. Why did she have to feel so guilty? Why did it feel like she was leaving them for good? Jade didn't understand it! She had been so confident, so full of pride, and had no hesitation before, but now? Now she felt weak and that wasn't something she was used to. She re-crossed her legs, and shifted. Jade was going to make it out of there alive, wasn't she? She'd promised Gunner that she'd be just fine, and she could see the expectation on Dagger's face. She didn't doubt Jade in the least! She had just looked so proud. Oh, there was a little worry, but mostly her youngest sister was confident, so why was she no longer so confident?

Jade didn't realize that everything was slowly coming together. That the reason she was entering the Games wasn't the reasons she had thought in the first place, but she still didn't get it yet. It was just there, and making her doubt herself more and more. She didn't want to enter the Games for glory: she wanted to enter the Games so that she would receive the love she'd yearned for from her father. If she won, she'd happy to become famous, but she could have become famous some other way. No, she was doing this to get that attention she was seeking. That pat on the head, maybe even a hug! A smile. Something from her father. Sometimes she'd even imagine that. In fact, she imagined that more than she imagined cheering crowds. That didn't mean she understood it yet.

That's when the door opened and she looked up to see Opal. Ah. A Victor. She was one of the older Victors, so she hadn't watched her Games as much as those in her own lifetime, but she was a Career from her own District and famous, so she had watched Opal's Games a few times. She didn't hero worship Victors, or see them as icons. She wanted to be one herself, so she found no use in worship. She did, however, respect anyone who made it out alive and brought glory to District One. So, she was very eager to meet her.

Opal's question caught her off guard, and for just a moment her usual mask of confidence and pride faltered. She blinked, shook her head, and then it was back again, but the other probably noticed, especially since she had so much experience. "Oh, I'm great," Jade said. "You have my mom's name." Wait, what?! Why did that slip from her mouth? Why was that important? It brought back the image in the room where her mother wouldn't even look at her before leaving, and she felt her eyes sting, but she wouldn't let the tears show themselves. She was strong. She was invulnerable, and she didn't really care about her mom, did she?

"Uh, I mean, what's the strategy?" Jade said, but she was still screaming at herself inside. Why, why, why did she have to bring that up?

Jade Morin was brought up with very little love and attention, and she didn't realize just how much she craved a mother's warmth, or a father's strength by her side. She had nothing or no one to lean on. She supported her youngest siblings, but she'd never once had anyone who would support her and she didn't know just how badly she needed it. So, it slipped.

Her hand found the pin on her shirt, and she traced the family crest carefully. She did this without thought, and wasn't even aware she had done it at first. Her feelings about the crest were mixed: she wished it was the wooden carving Gunner had first given her, but she also felt proud to wear her family's crest. No, it wasn't really pride, either. It was the fact that her father had given it to her. He never gave the kids anything, except the very basics. Food, clothing, a home that looked nice to anyone else. She had all of that, and she hadn't exactly earned it. However, she'd never been given anything special. Birthdays were forgotten. Holidays were just dinners with other well-to-do families in the District where they would have to act perfect, look perfect, and her father could boast about his kids training scores.

Even though he didn't really care about his kids at all. No warm smiles, no bed time stories when they were little, no emotional support, nothing. Jade lived for her father's praise. If she defeated someone in training, he'd look at her with that same stern expression as always, but he'd tell her she did a good job. It lacked warmth, or real emotion, but it was the best any of the Morin children would ever get from there father. If she didn't do well enough, he'd yell at her and say how much better Onyx or Mauve had done than her, and shame her. She'd be punished, humiliated, and for a while her father would despise her. She lived for his praise, because it was so much better than being despised.

For a moment, she had to fight the urge to rip off the family crest and chuck it across the compartment. For a moment, she had realized the truth: that she did this for his praise and she resented that. So, she shoved that back. Far back, where she wouldn't have to think about that, because she wasn't ready to face the truth. She joined the Hunger Games so that she would be loved, and if she were to ever realize that completely she'd be furious. At herself, at him, at everything because she was putting her life at risk for something she should have been given in the first place. She didn't like being weak. She refused to be weak.

Jade was so very lost, and she didn't realize it. She refused to acknowledge it. The woman's word brought her back to reality, slowly. She blinked, and looked up at the woman who had come out of these Games alive. Jade wondered how it had felt to win. Had this woman standing before her felt the way she had at first? Was this normal? Had Opal been a Career like Jade? Why was she being so weak? A part of her wanted to ask these questions, for a moment she found it hard to hold it back. She took a deep breath, willing herself to remain quiet. How could she show anymore weakness to her mentor? She'd think Jade half mad.

"What do I have to do to win?" Jade asked, not really absorbing what Opal had told her, because that made no sense. Jade was a Career, so she was prepared for these Games. Careers only lost because they hadn't trained enough. That's what her father had told her. That's why he yelled at her when she didn't do well enough and he'd tell her that she would die in the Games and that she'd deserve it when it she did because she hadn't done well enough. Steel had told her she'd make a mockery out of the family every single time she made the smallest mistake. Her brother beat her? Mockery. She accidentally dropped a weapon because she was sick and unprepared? Mockery. Got a scratch or got hit by the opponent, but still won? Mockery, because she still got hit.

Jade found herself staring at Opal. And the more she did, the more she remembered her own mother. Fussing over Ruby's hair. That warm, motherly smile that was never directed her way, only Ruby's. Why wasn't she good enough? Was she not pretty enough? Ruby's scores in training were worse than hers, and training was supposed to be everything, so why wasn't she loved?

"She didn't even look at me, my mother, you know," she muttered, vehemently, then her eyes widened in absolute shock. Why did she say that? Was the water she'd had earlier spiked with something? Why was she here spilling things out like this? Why to this stranger who shared that name?

Why on earth was she so uncertain? Why did she feel like spilling everything to this stranger? She didn't realize it was because she was slowly beginning to unravel herself, and finally understand herself. It all started because she was in the Hunger Games, and for the first time she was wondering why she wanted it. And she was slowly, slowly beginning to realize that she didn't really want it. She just wanted loved, and that's something she will never receive. Unless she lives.

"Why am I afraid?" It came out before she could stop herself. "I've trained for this my whole life, I've wanted this my whole life, why am I afraid?" Is this normal? She'd wanted to ask that to, but she wouldn't let herself finish. She suddenly stood up, and curled her hands into fists. She wanted to punch something, but she couldn't. She took a deep breath. She sat back down again. She crossed her legs at the ankles. Proper. She looked proper. Ladylike. Keep her cool. She was a warrior. She was a lady. She was from a proper, well-to-do family. Perfect. She needed to be perfect, but she was crumbling under the pressure.

She just really needed to punch something. Or whack something with a sword.