What If We Were Made to Kill Each other?

Chapter Three: Determined Heart

Pet let out a squeak of pain, jerking her face away from Sibyl's pincer grip, and rubbing at her eyebrows. Was she trying to hurt her?

She couldn't say for certain. At the moment, there was only a very, very fine line between 'prep team' and 'torturers', and she couldn't be sure which they were. Effie said 'prep team', but currently, Pet was leaning more towards 'torturers', considering the way they pounced on her the moment she walked in. It was almost like an ambush.

It felt like they'd been preening and glossing and removing hair from her body until she was smooth and soft for hours. It probably had been hours; Pet was pretty sure she wasn't exaggerating in that. She gritted her teeth, eyes watering at the painful grooming.

A ridiculously tall man named Thucydides tut-ted at the unkempt, bitten state of her nails. His own nails were about two inches long and a glittery blue, the exact same shade as his hair, which was rolled close to his head. One of the women, Europe, showed no mercy as she ripped more hair out from Pet's legs. Her eyes were a bright red, the same colour that her skin had been dyed, making her look like a giant tomato.

Sibyl had been hovering over Pet's eyebrows for a long time, plucking every now and then, shaping them. Sibyl had hair that ran all the way down to her knees in the colour of flames, obviously an unnatural colour judging from the beginning of brown roots close to her head. In Pet's district, having hair that long would be impractical; it would get in the way, it would be heavy and hot while they worked in the sun. Pet's hair wasn't very long to begin with, and it was already becoming a bother.

More hours passed. Pet's skin felt raw, even after they'd rubbed copious amounts of lavender scented moisturizers onto her. As Thucydides meticulously painted her nails, Europe moved to her hair, styling it. They talked a lot, about a lot of things. Sometimes, they talked so fast, Pet was sure it was a different language. Their own Prep Team Language. They talked about how good Finnick, a District Four mentor, was looking this year. They talked about how fierce District Two had looked. They made multiple references to a woman called Minerva, who Pet assumed was her stylist. Pet just sat there in silence.

Sibyl began dusting her face with a shimmering gold powder, rubbing it onto her body and covering every inch with it. Pet determinedly stared at the ceiling, trying not to pay attention to the way she was completely exposed to three strangers. No one had seen her naked since she was a little kid, and it made her uncomfortable to suddenly have their eyes on her. Sibyl's eyes turned to Pet's, "Small thing, aren't you?"

Pet closed her eyes. She knew. She knew. And now it was pretty clear that other people noticed it as well. Everyone noticed how she was small for her age; short and soft. Which translated to weak. Which meant she would be easy to take out. She wasn't a threat to the others. Her eyes flashed back open.

Maybe that could be a good thing. If she wasn't a threat, they might not target her. They might not take her out straight away. She could have a chance to get away. She could have a chance to survive, if she could find a place to hide. "I suppose."

When Sibyl finished with the powder, she moved onto Pet's makeup. Sometime later, as one unit, they converged to look straight on at Pet, their eyes critical as they assessed the work they'd done.

Then Sibyl smiled widely. "Those eyebrows are some of my finest work."

Pet's eyes widened in panic when she looked at Sibyl's own zigzagging eyebrows. Oh, no, what had they done? Pet was sure she was about to go out in front of a massive crowd, displayed on television, with zigzagging eyebrows.

Thucydides nodded, his lips pursed as he contemplated the gold nail polish he'd painted with such precision. "Do you think it needs to be a shade darker?"

"Oh, no!" Europe said, aghast. "It'll go perfectly with what Minerva has made!"

They continued to look pleased with themselves for another couple minutes, before gathering their things and turning to leave. Pet's eyebrows raised, and her voice got high, "You're leaving?"

She thought her prep team were twittering idiots; she thought they rambled on about unimportant things, she thought they were shallow and vain. And yet, they filled the silence Pet left with silly things that, just for a moment, made her forget all about the Hunger Games. About being reaped. About dying. They made her forget, and now they were going to leave her alone with nothing but her thoughts. Pet didn't think she could handle that. She didn't think she could handle what her mind was going to show her.

You're going to die.

Pet was afraid of a lot of things. Not having enough money to feed her family. Not being able to protect sweet, pure Diana. Leaving her family to struggle through the rest of their lives without her. That her dad's heart will give out. That her mum will completely recede into her head. That Diana will be left with no one who understands her.

But that was the scariest. That she might die. Actually, really die. Never to wake up.

Europe patted her hand affectionately. "Don't worry, you'll be in great hands."

Pet swallowed. She counted to thirty before she stood up, testing her slightly shaky legs. She darted to the door, but it wouldn't open. There was no handle. She pressed on the door, shoving at it. If she could just open it, she could get away. She could get on the train and get home. She didn't want to die.

She wasn't ready to die.

A tiny tremor ran through her hands, and she curled them tight into fists. Her legs couldn't hold her up anymore, and she dropped to the floor, wrapping her arms around her knees. She tried breathing, but the sound was raking and harsh in the small room. She rested her cheek against her knees, staring blankly at the wall. There was no window. She was completely caged. Trapped. There was no escaping this, her fate.

She squeezed her eyes shut and tried pulling herself together. She wasn't strong enough to hold onto that mask of strength for long, continuously. Eventually, she relapsed, and the fear would eat her up again. She hoped it didn't happen in the arena. She hoped she didn't break down.

Because she couldn't do anything to stop these games. She had to deal with it now. she had to start being honest with herself about her situation. This was happening. And the only option she had was to fight to get out. She couldn't back down. She couldn't just give in. Her family needed her. Her dad needed her, her mum needed her, Diana needed her. And she hadn't let them down yet. She wasn't planning on starting now.

But…Pet was no killer. She knew that. She had about as much of a killer instinct as a grasshopper. She couldn't be the reason someone else's son, daughter, brother, sister, didn't come home.

The door opened, and Pet jumped up as a tall woman, with a harsh face stormed into the room. Her face was twisted into an irritated expression, mumbling under her breath, "Twits."

Pet almost laughed. She was sure she meant her prep team. The woman placed a bag on the chair Pet had just spent the last few hours on. She turned to look at Pet, narrowing her eyes as she scrutinized her. "I'm Minerva. Your stylist."

"I'm - ."

She snorted, "I know very well who you are. You're the reason Oak thought she could just call me up and change my designs. My designs. Like it's so easy. I'd like to see her try to last one day in my job. She reads one book on the ancient world, and suddenly she thinks she can just change everything!"

Pet was staring at her wide-eyed. "I…I'm sorry?"

Minerva looked her up and down, sighing, before continuing on like Pet hadn't said anything. "Even if her idea could, possibly, work, it's beside the point. She can't just change it all at the last second! I've been killing myself to get this all ready on time."

Pet didn't know what to say. But it didn't seem that she had to say anything, because Minerva instructed her to turn around so she could slip her costume over her head. She knew what to expect: bread. District Nine was usually wearing designs of bread, or grain. Usually a dull, muted brown.

There was a zip, then she forcibly spun Pet around, adjusting here and there. She placed something on Pet's hair, before bringing her over to face a wall. Pet thought she might be a little crazy, when she pressed on the wall and a mirror slid down the wall.

Pet froze.

She actually wasn't sure who she was looking at. The girl in the mirror wasn't wearing some sort of bread costume. She was wearing a dress. A long, sheer, semitransparent white dress of the thinnest material Pet had ever seen. It was bunched at the shoulders, and plunged into a deep V down the front of the girl-in-the-mirror's chest, stopping at her stomach where intricate, gold embroidery and flecks cinched the material under her bust, before flowing out lightly. The material almost seemed to float, sitting close against her skin, which was covered in the shimmering gold powder. The powder gave the dress a slight gold sheen, underneath.

The girl in the mirror almost looked beautiful. Regal, almost. Pet lifted her arms, and the girl-in the mirror did as well. She found a gauzy white material to be attached to four gold bands on each arm, looping down and to the next band. Pet twisted, and so did the girl in the mirror. A long slit was in the dress, from her hips. Pet frowned. So did the girl in the mirror.

Pet took a step back. She couldn't believe that was actually, truly, herself.

Back home, in District Nine, Pet's clothing didn't emphasize her curved figure, showing off her small waist, the fullness of her breasts, the roundness of her hips. It certainly didn't make her look elegant.

Her eyes were rimmed in black, making them look larger and showing just how green they were. Her lips were painted a deep, dark red. Her hair was rolled tightly into small black curls, appearing unruly and wild and voluminous, bouncing down her back. They had a messy look, not neat. Uncontrollable. They fell around her face boldly, like a striking statement, big and thick and glossy. And sitting right on top, nestled amongst the ringlets of her hair, was a wreath of what looked like stalks of grain, woven together and coated in gold

It took another minute before Pet met Minerva's eyes in the mirror. "That's not me."

"Yes it is," Minerva encouraged, and her previously harsh face completely transformed when she smiled. "You look beautiful."

Pet frowned. "Who am I supposed to be? What am I supposed to be?" She wanted to know what part she was playing.

"Demeter. Ancient Greek Goddess of the Harvest, particularly that of grain." She fluffed Pet's hair.

"I'm…supposed to be a goddess?" Pet asked, slowly, drily, raising an eyebrow.

"It was Oak's idea, to move away from the bread and grain image. She insisted. And Demeter fit your district," she explained, smoothing the material as Pet turned to face her properly.

"What about Axel?" Surely, he wasn't going to be a goddess as well.

"Axel," she began, "is going to be a High Priest of Demeter."

Pet frowned, her face twisting up, "That's not really fair."

Minerva looked at her, clearly confused and dumbfounded. "What?"

Pet licked her painted lips, but the colour didn't come off. She tried to explain. "It's not fair if I'm a goddess…and Axel is just a High Priest of my goddess. It's…it's like focusing on me, as the important figure, and it's not fair for Axel to be secondary to my image."

Her explanation sucked. She knew it. She didn't know how to properly explain how she felt. Pet wanted to win. She really, really did. But if she won, she'd have to live with what she'd done to win. And the only thing she could live with would be fairness. Pet looked spectacular in her outfit; enough to cause people to at least wonder at who she was, and what she was wearing. She didn't want possible sponsors she could get from the way she looked, if it was going to cost Axel to be downplayed.

Minerva frowned. "You shouldn't think about fairness. If you're given something, you take it, you run with it, because no one else is going to do the same for you. It could mean the difference between life and death in there."

"I know," Pet said, looking at her levelly.

She sighed, running a hand through her hair. "Well, this is all we've got. It's either this, or bread. Choose."

"Can you ask Axel which he wants?"

Minerva just looked at her. "Fine. Wait here. But if he chooses the bread, it'll be on your head."

She left the room and Pet looked back in the mirror. "I can live with that," she told herself.

She could. She didn't care what she looked like out there. Judging from the dress, which she had less time to make, Pet was sure even the bread costumes would have been good.

But more importantly, she could die with that. Because she would know she did her best to make sure she didn't cost someone else. She did her best not to hurt someone else's son or daughter, brother or sister. It may have seemed silly – it was just a costume, after all. But this was where they would be seen for the first time since the Reapings. It was important. She'd be able to say that she did not cause that family to break.

That was the Capitol. It would always be the Capitol's fault.

Minerva returned later to say that Axel wanted to stay in these costumes, as the goddess and the High Priest. And then Minerva led her out, to an elevator, to be taken to the area where they would be organized for the chariot procession. When Pet got there, she was one of the first, despite the time it took for Minerva to speak with Axel.

Pet looked around, trying to find her mentors, or her district partner. She spotted Julius and Oak, and she hurried over, nearly tripping on the material of her dress. She was barefooted, which she was grateful for.

"Well, well, well," Julius said, grinning. "Would you look-y at this Oak."

Pet shifted uncomfortably under the weight of their eyes. Never in her life had she worn anything like this. And now, with people looking at her in the dress, she felt self-conscious. Her cheeks warmed.

Oak wandered over from where she was talking to another man; Finnick, District Four's mentor. Everyone knew Finnick. "Is that Pet? Who would have known?" She grinned gently, in a joking way.

Pet shifted again. "Not me."

More tributes were arriving, and it wasn't long before Axel was walking over to them with what looked like a white sheet draped over his body, over one shoulder, exposing the defined muscle of his chest. They were both barefoot.

Seconds later, they were being ushered into their chariots, suddenly a mad rush as everyone took their places. "Wave and smile," Julius said quickly, barking out instructions. "Just wave and smile and don't throw up."

"Thanks for that," Pet muttered darkly, because his words had only made her feel sick. Oh, God, she was about to go out in front of a lot of people, wearing a dress that was semi-transparent, with no shoes on. What was she thinking?

Oak joined in, glancing between the beginning of the procession and then back. "Try to meet their eyes, single people out by nodding at them. And don't worry," she grinned. "You'll do fine."

The procession began, and Pet realized why they were racing through instructions. As soon as the doors were opened, they were drowned in screams and shouts and chants, echoing around the room. The first few chariots pulled out, and Pet wanted to be sick. Damn Julius and putting the thought in her head. Their chariot jerked forward and Pet gripped the edge with tight, bloodless fingers. She swallowed, her throat dry.

The crowd that had gathered to see them live was huge. At first, Pet was too shocked to move. Then she lifted her hand tentatively, Julius' words going around in her head. They went wild and above the roar, she could hear her name being yelled, screamed, called out. She looked out at the people, smiling and nodding and waving a people specifically, and they subsequently went crazy with their screams of enthusiasm, ecstatic at being singled out.

They pulled up in front of the lectern that towered above them and they waited for President Snow to deliver his speech. Pet could hardly concentrate on it. She glanced around at the other tributes and was surprised when another pair met hers.

The male from District Two. Cato. He was scowling at her and fear crept up her spine with cold fingers. Because he wasn't just generally scowling at everyone, he was scowling at her, glaring, like he hated her. She wondered what she did to make so angry at her. Under his intense eyes, she wanted to look away, drop her eyes to the ground and try to ignore him.

Except explosive anger shot through her at that moment. She was so sick of being intimidated. Of being frightened, by everyone and everything. And right then, she was supposed to be a goddess, not submissive or frightened. So instead of giving in and averting her eyes, like she realized later she should have done, she made her first mistake.

She returned his glare with a haughty stare of her own, her eyes running over him in an unimpressed way, like she was undaunted. And then she turned away. Just turned away, like she grew bored of him. Like he didn't scare her. Like he wasn't worth her time.

She realized as soon as she did it that she shouldn't have, especially when the hairs on the back of her neck prickled and she knew he was glaring still, his scowl deepening as he bared his teeth threateningly. Oh, no. She'd just angered the deadliest person in those games by pretending to be superior to him, by not being submissive.

Their chariots were moving back and she realized she'd missed all of President Snow's speech. The crowd was cheering again, and Pet repeated what she did on the way in, the whole time feeling a target mark on her back as Cato glared daggers at her.

She jumped down off the chariot when the doors closed, abruptly cutting off the roaring of the crowd. The dress was slightly too long and she nearly tripped on the material. "Well done," Julius said, clapping Axel on the shoulder.

"You did great," Oak agreed.

"Except…" Axel trailed off, looking at Pet. She frowned at him questioningly. "Pet pissed off District Two's male."

At his words, her eyes automatically glanced around, finding said tribute. He was looking bored as his mentors were talking, like he didn't need to know anything they were saying. Feeling Pet's eyes on him, he spotted her, a small smirk playing around his lips at catching her watching him. Her lips pressed together into a thin line, her eyes narrowing, and she looked away. In her peripheral, she saw his smirk become a glare in a split second.

Great. What the hell was wrong with her? He'll be after her blood for sure now.

"I see," Oak said, her face disapproving. "That probably wasn't the smartest thing to do."

"It just happened," Pet groaned. "And I know it wasn't smart."

She shouldn't have been like that. She should have been demure, or something to make him overlook her, to think she wasn't a threat, not something that pissed him off. Because now, there was no way he could dismiss her or ignore her. She'd made herself known to him and she knew she was going to pay for it.

"Hmm," Julius said, looking over her shoulder, musing out loud to himself. "And yet, he's still staring."

Pet's eye snapped shut in hopelessness. She'd brought this on herself. "Because I made him angry," she whispered. "Because I just couldn't be submissive."

Julius grabbed her arm then, moving her to stand directly under a light, shining down on her brightly. She looked at him like he was crazy. "What are you doing?"

But he wasn't looking at her, he was looking at Cato, and Pet peeked over as well, expecting his glare. She didn't find it. Instead, his eyes were running the length of her body intensely and she glanced down at herself. She let out an embarrassed squeak and jumped away from the light.

The light had made her dress almost non-existent, the shimmering gold powder covering her skin standing out under the material, and making the outline of her body visible beneath the flimsy dress, every curve. Her face heated and she glared at Julius, clenching her jaw and silently fuming at him. She couldn't even find the words to yell at him.

"Let's go," Oak said, seeing the storm in her eyes and attempting to subdue it as she led them over to the elevators, before leaning in close to mutter to Julius. "Is it going to be a problem?"

He almost sounded like he wanted to laugh. "Maybe. Maybe not."

Wow. It's been a long time, huh? My bad.

Let me know what you thought of the chapter! Thanks for reading!

Review-replies:

Teddy bear 007: :D Thanks :D

MeandPizzatheOTP: Wow, thank you so much! I feel guilty now that I made you wait so long for another chapter! I'm so flattered you think I've got a good writing style! Thank you so much! And thanks so much for reviewing the second chapter as well! It means a lot to me :D

Marceasdf: Oh, I know. I don't know what it is about this story that makes it so hard for me to get a chapter out! I'm really flattered that you almost danced when you received the notification for my story! I'm stoked it's one of your favourite, thank you so much! It made my day :D I'll really try to update sooner next time! Thank you so much for the lovely review!

Guest: Thank you! I'm glad you love it and think Pet is awesome! Thank you so much for taking the time to review! It means a lot to me :D