Memoirs of a Victor

Chapter 10: Stay Alive

Back in our apartment Mike and I changed out of our outfits, washed ourselves, and removed any traces of the capitol off. We were both tired as we had our last meal together with Effie, Haymitch, Chanel, and Vitus. No one could manage a word let alone the dread for tomorrow. My heart actually taking double-time as it pounded against my chest.

Dinner started with a French onion soup, next a Caesar salad; follow by a lamb stew on wild rice, and for dessert chocolate lava cake. I could barely eat the rich cake and simply nibble on some bread with butter.

After dinner we watch the recaps in the living room. I appeared elegant, mysterious, and from Vitus noted allowed, sex. Mikes footages made him charming indeed, funny, and humble most likely winning him some sponsors. In fact we both have the upper hand on sponsors as of now. When the anthems finishes and the screen turns off, silence engrossed the room. Tomorrow will be the actual Game; the pageant portion is finally over. Tomorrow at ten O'clock at Capitol standard time the gong will sound commencie the bloodbath initiating the seventy-first annual Hunger Games.

We will wake up early since the Capitol citizens don't wake up till late. Not sure if Haymitch will be there to walk me to the aircraft that will escort Mike and I to the Arena. Once we are gone, Haymitch and Effie shall be going to the Games Headquarters, desperately trying to get more sponsors for gifts for our survivals. Our Stylist will be traveling with us, so there is some support, but not enough.

Effie is first to say her goodbyes, saying she is proud to have us as her tributes, wishing us luck. I tried to figure out if the tears she shed are real or not. She kissed both our cheeks and gave her speech to smile occasionally in the arena. Anyway she said her goodbyes, leaving with Vitus and Chanel for tomorrow.

Afterwards Haymitch crossed his arms looking at us with a serious expression. "When the gong sounds, get the hell out of there. Neither of you up to the bloodbath at the Cornucopia. Just clear out, put as much distance as you can between yourselves and the others, and find a source of water."

"Anything else?" Mike asked.

"Stay alive," Haymitch said. The same advice he gives to every tribute. His infamous motto that we go by heart. Everything is a battlefield and you have to do whatever it takes to stay alive.

He gave Mike a shake and me a quick hug before leaving towards his room. Mike and I sat in the living room complimenting on the advice in silence. Our plan is to stay alive yes, be a team until the final eight before separating. But what if it comes to the final two between us?

"Mike," I started.

"Yeah, Blaine?" he replied.

"When we go into the arena and survive the bloodbath . . . remember who you are and that the games will do whatever it takes to break you."

"How do you know that?" He asked.

"I just know," I answered. Although I learned it from some of the victors when I was little. They gave me key notes in what the main objective is for what goes on in the arena.

He nodded, "I don't want to be a piece in some game. Not wanting to kill anybody."

"You may . . . or you may not, only when the time comes." I said.

"If we are gonna die, promise we die like ourselves." He suggested.

"Promise," I agreed.

We hugged each other knowing this will be our last night to be ourselves. For a while we kept each other's company till the noise outside recommend we turn in for the night. I turn into my room taking another shower, breathing in the herbal oils to sooth my anxiety. The only thing that couldn't be scrubbed off so easily was the nail polish. Not caring I put on some night clothes, and climbed into bed staring at the visual panel set on the forest. Something that reminded me of district 12.

I didn't know, probably an hour later sleep finally came to me when the door cracked open letting the person in. By the scent of alcohol, it was Haymitch. He walked silently into the room and set on the end of the bed. His callused hand combing through my short hair.

"I'll do whatever it takes to keep you alive," he whispered.

"I know," I mumbled.

No words were said after that. Haymitch took a chair and sat down watching as I slept. I guess this is last chance to be close to me in case I die in the arena. I slept like a log throughout the night. Dreaming of the dark veil of nothing.

By morning Haymitch wakes me up. He looked like hell not sleeping a wink last night. He gestured me to the bathroom to get ready as he left to freshen up. I shower and got into simple wear for the transportation, the uniform shall be given in the arena. Once done and eating a roll and some milk from the ordering panel I sat on the bed tying my shoes. I felt sick in the stomach ready to vomit any second now. Taking one more deep breath I left my room the moment Haymitch came to get me.

I didn't see Mike this morning which only made my anxiety worse. The only other person I saw was the avoxes. I felt sorry for them, especially towards those who have been my caretaker as a child. They look at me with a sympathy nod to which I nod in return before Haymitch and I got on the elevator. He press the R meaning roof as the elevator goes up.

"They'll put all kinds of stuff right in front, right in the mouth of the Cornucopia." Haymitch started. "There'll even be a pack of knives there. Don't go for them."

"Because of the bloodbath?" I asked.

"They'll try to pull you in. That's not your game." he confirmed. "If there are loose items spread out, go for it. Otherwise you turn, run, find high ground, and look for water. Water's your new best friend."

I nodded. A person can live for days without food. However no can live days without water.

"Oh," Haymitch added. "Don't step off that pedestal early or they'll blow you sky high."

"Okay," I said feeling the pressure kicking in.

Soon the elevator stopped and the doors open revealing the hovercraft. Haymitch wrapped a protective arm around my shoulders as we walked out of the elevator. I can already hear my breathing increased.

"Blaine, you can do this." My father reminded me. He looked at the hovercraft then at me, back and forth as if he wanted to say something. He faced me looking straight in the eyes. "I'm sorry I haven't been the best dad, and I wish your mother was here to see how much you've grown. Remember I still love you and no matter what, you do whatever it takes to survive. I don't know what I'll do if I loss you."

"I promise," I said and gave him a hug.

He hugged back desperately clinging on to me as he kissed my forehead. This was goodbye. And the little girl inside me was crying for her dad to take her way from here. However he can't. His only chance to save his little girl is to fight for sponsors. When we pulled back I kissed his cheek and whispered in his ear, "I love you too, dad."

After that, I let go and walked towards the hovercraft not looking back. I could feel his eyes on me, but still I don't turn back. The only time I did was when I got on the hovercraft seeing him arms crossed with a fist under his chin. That was the last time I saw him as the doors closed.

A peacekeeper gestured me to take a seat and he strapped me in secure. There were about twelve tributes, noticing Sapphire from district one across from me face to face, Leo Stone from Two sat at the far end arms crossed with a smug look on his face and next to me Static from District five. A bit intimidating to have competition in the same hovercraft, while younger tributes are scared. Two women in white coats go around asking for the tributes arms holding some sort of gun. Some of the tributes flinched, hiss, or winced from the injection.

"Give me your arm." One said.

I gave her my arm which she grabbed placing the barrel of the needle gun center of the forearm. I winched as blue light glow in the flesh follow by a silhouette of a tiny cylinder. "This is your tracker."

"Thanks," I breathed, once she pulled the needle out and did it on the next tribute.

So much for privacy, I thought with a sigh.

.o0o.

The ride lasted for an hour . . . maybe two since there is no sign of a clock anywhere and the peacekeepers say soon when asked if we are there yet. The two women brought food making sure everyone ate. I ate as much as I could and cautiously snuck a roll in my pocket when no one is looking. When the hovercraft landed one by one of tributes were escorted out. I was the last to go out as two peacekeepers escorted me to my chambers. There I'll meet my stylist for the final preparations in the underground tunnels of the arena.

Each step could easily be heard in this metal concrete tunnel, the catacombs with peacekeepers at attention thirty feet apart. Back home the chamber is referred to as the Stockyard. A place to slaughter the animals. But in the Capitol, they called it the Launch Room. The Peacekeepers stopped me in front of the door pressing the key before letting me in. I entered and they slammed the door shut.

Chanel waited in the room preparing the uniform. I sighed and hugged her, which she accepting combing her hand through my short hair telling me to breathe. She settles me to sit down in a chair as she brushed my hair, managing to put it in a tight French braid.

Afterwards she helped me into my uniform, the same for every tribute. The outfit hinted what the arena is going to be like, as the fur trim said cold. So I put on the undergarment, black camouflage insulated pants, white sturdy belt, a grey wool long-sleeved shirt, black vest, black boots, and a charcoal parka. Chanel felt the inner lining, "The material in the jacket is designed to insulate body heat. So you shall be warm at night and harsh winds."

I nodded as I tighten the strings to the boots to be secured. They were thick and bulky made out of water and nylon, yet my feet were snugged. So there is going to be water involved. I try to think of a scenario that would be cold and damp. Chanel didn't give her suggestion, just quiet or offering advice. But it wasn't helping. I swear I was going to have an anxiety attack any second or vomit. She noticed how green I was becoming and went to the sink and grabbed a medicine bottle, handing two tablets and a cup of water. I took them immediately and soon my nerves calmed down.

"I'm scared," I confessed to her.

"It is alright to be afraid." She assured.

"But what if I don't make it?" I asked.

"You will, don't forget who you are." She said placing a hand on my shoulder. "You are a victor's daughter. You know how to survive. You can do this."

She then pulled out a porcelain snowdrop out of her purse. My mother's pin. I thought I lost it during the remake at the Remake center. She opens my jacket and put it in the inner pocket of the parka. Afterwards zipped the coat, making sure it was secure.

"How?" I asked.

"I have my ways." She said.

"Thank you," I whispered.

"Thirty seconds." A woman's voice announced through the intercom.

My mind panic while my body remained calmed from the medicine Chanel gave me. Chanel grabbed my shoulders looking me straight in the eyes. "Blaine, remember you prepared for this, you know how to survive. And most importantly you are not alone. There are people who are betting on you as we speak. Remember that."

"Twenty seconds."

I nodded as we hug for the last time as I thanked her for all she did. She hugged back before pulling the hood up and secures the straps. I got on the launch platform looking at her still scared. She smiled as she gestured me to breathe.

"Ten seconds."

I took a deep breath as the glass cylinder came down around me.

Breathe. I told myself. Breathe.

The launch pad lifts me up through the glass tunnel into the arena. When the panels open I am greeted with intense cold air, blaring winds, and snow. A moment of realization that this was not a normal arena of a forest, ruin city, or paradise setting. No, I and twenty-three other tributes are stuck in a middle of a blizzard.

The only thing lauder than the hurling winds is Claudius Templesmith voice, "Ladies and gentlemen, let the Seventy-first Hunger Games begin!"

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What do you all think?

The 71st Hunger Games is going to be a tundra terrain with some hills and mountains. The peacekeepers mess with the weather making things difficult for the tributes.

Thanks for reading and please leave a review.