"Evangeline Maurice."
It's all a blur. When I heard my name called at the reaping, I felt my fingers go numb and my brain warp into a nebulous haze. Nothing made sense anymore. I had gone through this all this before, under the façade that I would live the rest of my life in luxury, in safety. I floated up to the podium, my legs moving without me even realizing; its a peculiar thing, really, how one's body so often knows what to do before your mind even begins to process what is going on. Mindless noise hastens around me, but everything seems like asinine, intangible turbulence. Loud, yet distant.
As I take my spot up on the raised platform, I finally feel my lungs take a short, raspy breath in. The shrill, exuberant voice of the extravagant Beatus Parr trills next to me, piercing my eardrums as he calls out the male tribute's name: Marius Tibel. I still remember the year he won his games. Gouged his enemies eyes out with a knife while they were sleeping. Brutish and evil, but not different from me. I won by slicing someone with an ax, right in the heart. And I didn't even feel an ounce of remorse after.
When I returned from my games, I thought I would be happy again. I had always been a happy child, bizarre yet captivating. I had a lonely childhood in District 7; my mother died during childbirth and I was an only child. Despite having an adequate father who took care of me, I always felt alone. I stopped going to school after I was twelve because my father got his right leg amputated after a lumbering accident, so I had to work to fed both of us. I didn't really mind much, though. I didn't have too many friends and school was too easy for me anyways. Pointless memorization of Panem facts, nothing that would ever really challenge one's brain. So when my name got called at the reaping for the first time, a sniveling little fourteen year-old girl saw her opportunity to be loved, cherished and praised by her father, her friends and her district. But when I came home after killing nine people, no one would come close to me. Sure, I was surrounded by the Capitol paparazzi, desperate acquaintances who wanted a slice of my wealth, four-times removed cousins who claimed to be proud of the success of such a cherished family member. But, I was so destitute. Not alone, but lonely. It's quite an odd feeling, really. Being lonely in the middle of an ostentatious party with a thousand of your "closet friends". It takes a little getting used to, but I had grown to grit my teeth and accept the loneliness of my never-alone life, the price of being a beloved victor.
When I turned to shake hands with Marius, I could see in his eyes the flicker of a faint sliver of raw emotion. The feeling seemed familiar to me, but I can't quite put into words what I saw. All I know is I understood exactly. I turned back to the now silent crowd, gave the slightest bow of my head. Then, without a single moment of hesitation, I strode into the District Hall and didn't look back.
