Colours and Tears

The Hunger Games Competition...

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1. Colours & Tears.

The atmosphere in the Capitol could only be described as electrical.

People of all shapes and colours whirled around me. A man with pale blue skin and long whiskers brushed past me, knocking me in to a women with baby pink hair, green skin and pointed teeth. No one seemed to notice though. Bright colours imprinted themselves on my brain, while the strong, artifical smell of 'too much' perfume burned my nostrils. I pushed back my long, mint green hair away from my face and I turned my attention back to the screen in front of me.

I watched, with wide eyes, as the two tributes threw themselves, wildly, at each other and fell heavily to the ground. They rolled over and over, arms and legs flailing all over the place. Teeth sunk into soft skin, nails pierced one boy's cheeks, clothes were torn. Exposing more skin for the other to attack. A man closer to the screen started cheering for the one of the tributes, while another started shouting for the other one. More people started to join in, the man with whiskers leant forward his eyes looking oddly predetory in their sockets and I let out a high, pitched laugh when he started to hiss at the screen.

Energy oozed from every single person in the crowd, humming like electricity and bouncing off different people and then wrapping tightly, like ribbon, around our bodies, heavy from all the clothing, jewellery and make-up we're wearing. It sizzled when it touched our skin, binding us together. The Hunger Games was the one thing that brought us all together in the Capitol, besides the gossip that spread like wild fire around here. The Hunger Games; the Capitol lived for it. Well most of us. I watched in terror as one of the tributes pulled a piece of long rope from his pocket and wrapped it swiftly around the other's throat.

The boy was young. About fourteen years of age. We stood there, eyes glued to the screen, as his small, round face turned a starting purple colour and then...nothing. The other tribute shoved his body to the ground, where it lay unflinching, completely still. A roar of outrage flew from the lips of those who had placed money on him. Poor boy. Not many people in the Capitol would moarn this boy's life. No one now stopped to wonder about the boy. If he had siblings, were they watching, how were they feeling. Instead, all the Capitol would think about how we were one step closer to OUR winner, to OUR victor. Only three left, now. It wouldn't be long.

A man with blonde, curling hair came up behind me and brushed a kiss on by cheek as light as butterfly wings. He wasn't from the Capitol; a mentor. His clear, grey eyes sparkled at me, but his lips were drawn down the corners. He did this every year, a kiss on the cheek and then he was gone. However, today, he stayed. His eyes flickered to the screen, and then back to me. A girl with long black hair lay, shaking, on the ground. A hush fell over the room. She whimpered in pain and she squeezed her eyelids shut, her teeth tearing into her lips. A slow trail of blood trickled down her chin from her mouth, and even more blood was soaked into her shirt. Her hair was greasy, and dirt coated her skin and clothes. She shook so much, her shaped seemed to blur and a sob ripped through her chest. She pressed her face to the ground as she cried; her tears dampening the ground beneath her.

I felt my heart squeeze, hard, and I swore I could feel everyone else's, too. The room was silent, waiting for her fate to be decided. She had been very charming this girl, the majority of the crowd was in love with her and those who didn't just wanted to be in the same room as her. She had shone in her interview, lighting up the stage like a flame. A tear slide down my face as I watched her, moaning into the ground, wrapping herself tightly into a ball. I turned back to the man beside me, his eyes locked on my face. I smiled slightly, before, rubbing my hand roughly across my face. No crying.

"I suppose you would like me to send something to her, yes?" I asked, catching the heartbroken faces of the women surrounding me. Confusion swept over me, a minute ago we watched a boy die and none had shed a tear, but for this girl, a player in these games just like the boy, they let themselves ache for her. The man, nodded. I repeated the gesture and then taking his hands pulled him away from the croud, "I suspect you had a whole speech planned out for me, am I right?" I didn't turn to see if I was right, I knew I was,"Well, go on, persuade me!" I said, lightly still pulling him away from the screen.

I couldn't watch this. This wasn't right. We shouldn't be doing this, but this was what brought all of us, people in the Capitol and the districts together. They didn't think we understood, but I did. In the Capitol we loved easily, giving our hearts to tributes, it didn't matter if it was only for a little while. We gave our love willingly, knowing they'd be torn apart once our tributes enter the arena.

I could hear him talking to me; his tone caught between begging and arguing. There was really no need. I already knew that if he wanted me to help the girl I would. She can't have been much younger, my sister's age maybe. Fifteen? Perhaps. I finally found a marble bench to perch myself of. He'd stopped talking now, and I could see the girl's face twisted with pain. I wanted to be vommit looking at her; her skin clung to her bones possessively and she looked a sickly yellow colour. I looked back up, to her mentor, through my blue, feathered eyelashes, "I'll do whatever I can. Now what will it be? Food? Medicine?!" I said, while my mind kept flashing to the boy's face. The mentor smiled, slightly, and kissed my check again.

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