The Beginning Of The Cycle
The 71st Annual Hunger Games. Never in a million years did Aleks believe he would hear such a statement; especially when it meant that he had survived his own torment in the arena just a year prior. He expected to be at home or roaming amongst his district, preparing for the reaping; his age at the end of the spectrum; ultimately not being called and anticipating a miserable life as a peacekeeper to be in his future. But that hadn’t happened. His name had been pulled out from the array of other white papers; Aleks Ethon reigning across the crowd for all to hear. And now twenty three tributes, a broken heart, and a wave of depression later, Aleks stood in the confines of a capitol building now forced to take on the role of mentor.
He stared at his reflection in the full length mirror that resided in the corner of his bedroom. He couldn’t help, but scowl at what he saw; such a polished and cheap imitation of the country’s doing. They did not want his scars to be shown, the weariness to linger under his eyes, the weakness that weighed down atop his shoulders. Everything had been wiped away; make up being put on, goo and oil altering his skin to have the allure of a smooth and soft texture, hair being combed back, clothes chosen that would best appeal to those who were waiting for the victor to appear. They were attempting to strip Aleks of his identity even further.
The boy tore his crystalline stare away from his complexion. This was his life now. He could not escape, could not get any more lucky breaks as he had for the six months that he lived on the outskirts of two. But even then, it wasn’t as humble as it sounded. Aleks had experienced the true after effects of what winning meant; nightmares, paranoia, exhaustion, sorrow. Being away had not made coping any easier. Later, he had been found, dragged back to the center of Panem, and kept under close surveillance by not only the peacekeepers and President Snow, but Naima as well.
Aleks pressed his fingers to his lids, seeing sparks of color burst out in the darkness. He stopped once a couple of seconds had ticked by, waiting for his vision to steady before taking rest on a chair that harbored the nearest window. He felt the glimpses of the rays transfer from the glass along the top of his face, Aleks sighing, but not moving from his position. His observed the scene below; how citizens dressed in neon colors, obnoxious attires, holding such pride upon their expressions for the reputation of today. This was all entertainment to them. They could not see much deeper than that.
Aleks reached his right hand up, tracing the slice that he had purposely done to his neck from the evening prior; separated from his mind; desiring gratification and fulfillment of the punishment he believed he deserved. He had pressed the jagged concoction to his sensitive skin, prying it apart with ease. Now, a scab rested in its place; remembrance for the action that was meant to bring him relief. Had it truly? No, but it felt right. He was paying for everything that he failed to accomplish; the lives lost and ruined by him even existing. Maybe it would have been simpler if the artificial prison had been his death bed. Someone more worthy would be filling his spot; someone who had the strength to carry on.
But as the will to give in taunted with Aleks’ thoughts like poison, something did make his lips coax into a smile and that was of Ace. The blonde haired boy had visited his dreams, leaving behind memories that filled Aleks with a mixture of passion, lust, happiness, and satisfaction all in one sitting. Even past actual reality, Ace still had faith in him; still had hope that he would be able to overcome the hurdles of his new situation. That had to mean something. Ace had always been smart; logical; unclouded with false delusions like many others had. Aleks had to try for him as well as uphold a promise; don’t let Ace fade.
He propped his collar across the infliction; step one of furthering his vow.
The lapse of joy that Aleks had succumbed to vanished as he contemplated his new found duties. He would have to be the one who sent a child to their death and the worse part was that with his district, they would be happy to do so. They would be honored to intertwine themselves in bloodshed, listen to the echo of screams that guaranteed their final moments on Earth. Trained behind semiclosed centers and now Aleks would be partially to blame for those he sent in; murderers on the hunt. More slashes to add to his already guilty conscience.
What was to be considered now was if he would help them, but as soon as that entered, Aleks shooed it away. Of course he would. No one should have their right of living destroyed. But he had a strong intuition that whomever his tributes were would not take to him fondly. Full fledged careers registered Aleks as the boy gone wrong, the disgrace to their label as warriors. There was no way that he was looking forward to this; being mocked and ridiculed and perhaps even rebelled against. Naima would be the favored mentor of the two; just as Cora had been the preferred soul in the past. They both understood what it took to survive without any influence from any environmental or psychological factors. Once they entered their darkened mental set, it was where they stayed and where they flourished. Aleks was able to control such a trait; only tampering in it when needed, but lately the urge to be engulfed by the monster lessened drastically. What lit the flame of his demise were his emotions; uncontrolled and completely eradicated.
There was a knock on the door that made Aleks’ neck crane in its direction. Two men, dressed in their usual white uniform had appeared to carry him off.
“It’s time to board the train,” one said firmly.
Aleks rose, brushing his palms along the pants of his black suit that hugged his build; so out of place; proper; constricting. He walked slowly before being captured in their possession; the men huddling so close to Aleks that he could almost feel the barrels of their rifles against his ribcage. He continued forward, being greeted by the method of transportation that would bring him back to a place he never wanted to be in again; the residence of his conception. The compartment slid open quickly and Aleks stepped inside; the noise repeating again as he knew that he was trapped inside; locomotive beginning to propel at its usual speed of two hundred miles per hour. He didn’t know where his other adviser was nor did he care. If Naima was on board, which he assumed was the case, he knew that contact would not be made. It was better that way. He loathed her and the feeling was mutual.
The background of the capitol began to disintegrate; Aleks being greeted with the mountainous terrain of district two. His heart unlatched itself from the compression of its cavity; colliding with the hollow pit of his abdomen.
“May the odds be ever in your favor,” he mouthed; his wispy breath fogging up the sheer material of the see through cut out.
