by Jon Thorn
They call it the 'Pain Games' and it's aptly named. It's not about death, it's about pain. At the Pain Games, no-one gets killed, no-one dies, but plenty of people get hurt. Like its grown-up sibling, the Pain Games happens every year, six months after the Hunger Games has finished. By then the people in the Capitol must be getting bored and the districts need another little reminder of where the power lies in Panem. It will be the 74th Hunger Games this year which makes this the 73rd Pain Games.
It's not called 'Reaping' it's called 'Choosing' but the way it works is much the same, and there isn't any choice, not if you're one of the ones in the pool. It alternates year on year, boys one year, girls the next. It's girls this year. All girls between the ages of eighteen and twenty-one. It's the third time for me. I've been lucky so far, my name's never come out, not when I was eighteen and not when I was nineteen. Now at the ripe old age of twenty it's my last time.
We are standing in the square in front of the Justice building. All of us who are eligible are standing together. Felicia, my little sister, is standing next to me. I squeeze her hand, trying to give her some re-assurance. She's eighteen, it's her first time. If her name comes out then I know what I must do. I can't see her go through this ordeal, she's so young, so innocent. I can't see her hurt and humiliated. If she gets chosen then I will take her place. She gives me a little smile, her eyes so blue beneath her blonde fringe.
The moment has arrived. Flanked by two Peacekeepers, Mirrie Tolson, the mistress of ceremonies, dips her hand in the bowl. We all go silent as she unfolds the slip of paper.
"Anastasia Quinliven," she announces in a clear voice.
My mouth goes dry. My name! She has said my name. My stomach lurches and I feel suddenly sick.
"No!" Felicia gasps and tightens her grip on my hand. I wrench it free. There is no choice. If I do not step forward then the Peacekeepers will drag me out. There are humiliations enough to come without that. I straighten my back and walk up to the podium. I ascend the steps and look out over the crowded square. The rest of my family are over to the left. I cannot look at them.
Mirrie reaches into the bowl again. She takes a second slip. I see her eyebrows rise as she reads the name and feel a sudden, extra, chill sweep over me. I know it before she says it.
"Felicia Quinliven," she announces.
There is a collective gasp from the crowd, which stills instantly as the Peacekeepers cock their weapons. Felicia looks very pale, very frightened as she walks forward.
"Well ladies and gentlemen," Millie grins, "We have a real first for the Pain Games this year! What a turn up for the books. Two beautiful sisters! We are in for a treat!"
I could hit the stupid woman but that would be suicidal, for Felicia and for me. I force myself to grin although it's the last thing I want to do.
There isn't time for goodbyes as we are marshalled towards the train. We will be back in a week after all, it's not the same horror as it is for the Hunger Games. But it's bad enough. We've all been forced to watch over the years, we all know what's going to happen to us. Felicia clutches my hand again as we take our seats.
"It's alright Flis," I tell her, "We'll look after each-other, we'll be ok."
"I'm not sure I can do it," she murmurs, the misery clear on her face.
"It's just about endurance. It will be painful, it will be embarrassing, but we will survive it."
"No, that's not what I'm afraid of," she whispers, "I just don't think I can hurt anyone like that."
I know what she means. At the Pain Games you are divided into two teams, the Prey and the Hunters. If you're Prey then you're going to suffer, assuming they catch you. But if you're one of the Hunters then it's you who's going to be dishing out the pain. Poor little Flis, she can't kill a wasp without feeling guilty about it and she's never raised her hand against anyone. But the alternative is equally bad, to watch her being punished, to see her in pain. What can I say?
"It's just two days. Two days of hell and then it's over."
It will be over, but I imagine the memories stay with you forever. There's no honour in it, no-one respects you for being a Pain Games Tribute. No-one quite knows what to say when they come back to the district afterwards. At least Flis and I will have each other. I give her hand another squeeze.
The journey to the Capitol seems to take forever. There is a prep team that are pretty insufferable but I guess they have job to do. They've got to make us look as pretty as possible for the games and if that means waxing virtually every strand of body hair then that's what they do. I don't think I've ever been so smooth, they've left me just one narrow strip between my legs. I think it looks ridiculous but they tell me it's all the fashion. Poor Flis, red-faced, told me that they haven't even left her that dignity. We've been measured for costumes but we haven't seen them yet. There's always a theme, to the costumes and the arena but no-one is letting on what it is.
We see the Capitol from the train. It's pretty breathtaking. I've seen it on the screen but you don't get a sense of the size and scale of the place until you see it for real. We are taken from the train and into the Tributes' accommodation. It's only then that we get to meet our fellow competitors. Twenty-four of us, two from each district.
As I look around the group I notice something that I've never been aware of before; there is no girl who couldn't be described as pretty. In fact the girls from Districts One and Two could be described as truly beautiful. How can this be? Surely the random nature of the Choosing should give us a complete mixture of looks, the plain as well as the pretty? It starts to dawn on me that something other than chance has played its part. Maybe we have actually been chosen. The thought brings me no comfort at all.
We do the introductions. I'm trying to weigh them up. Rachal, the younger girl from District Ten looks just as scared as Felicia, her beautiful auburn hair pulled back in a pony-tail, her face as white as a ghost. I try to give her a warm smile but all she can manage in return is an anxious grin that fades immediately. The beautiful girl from District One is not just beautiful but arrogant as well. Her name is Yasmin, and she gives me a sneering look as we touch hands. I have a feeling that she's going to be delighted if she ends up a Hunter. You see it every year - there are those who are reluctant and there are those who enjoy the chance to hurt others. She's definitely one of the latter.
There are brief interviews to do, nothing like those for the Hunger Games, but the Capitol folks still need to know who we are, who to place their money on, who to support. I try to be as neutral as possible, not to show any fear, not to show any emotion at all. Felicia is brave too, putting on a smiling face for the audience, doing her best to seem young and innocent. I'm proud of how strong she is being.
I watch Yasmin's interview. I wasn't wrong about her. She is supremely confident and is looking forward to what lies ahead. She is sure that she is going to be a Hunter and when she is asked how she feels about administering punishment her reply is simply to smile. I hate her already.
Back at the accommodation we are taken to the training hall. You can't train for the Pain Games, all you would be able to practice is running and hiding and I reckon that's pretty instinctive already. No, we're here to be split into the two teams - the Hunters and the Prey. I know the cameras are recording the event so although I stand next to Flis I don't take her hand. She knows I'm there beside her and that's enough.
It's Mirrie making the announcements again.
My name is the fourth to be drawn.
"Hunter - Anastasia Quinliven."
I think I am relieved until Felicia's name comes out of the bowl three picks later.
"Prey - Felicia Quinliven." I know this is what Flis would prefer but it makes my stomach lurch again. I so wanted us both to be together. Now we are on opposing sides. Now I must try and hunt her down. Hunt her down and hurt her. That's what they want me to do, but I know I will never do it, I will never hurt Flis whatever happens.
We don't have a chance to speak before we are ushered away. Hunters in one direction, Prey in the other. We are taken to our rooms to be dressed in the costumes for the arena. My stylist, Ginta, is waiting for me.
"Oh well done you," she gushes, "It must be so horrible to start as one of the Prey, knowing that you might stay that way for both days. Start as a Hunter and if you're lucky you might get through entirely untouched!"
"My sister is one of the Prey," I say through gritted teeth.
"Oh that's to your advantage!" Ginta says, "You'll have a good idea of the sort of places she'll choose to hide, and I bet you can outrun her too!"
She's trying to be encouraging, but her insensitivity is so monstrous that I don't know how to reply. I stand silently as she helps me to dress. It's an unusual sort of costume, not as outlandish as some we've seen in the past, quite normal in fact, if a little old-fashioned. It consists of a long fully-pleated skirt, a shiny satin blouse fastened with a silver brooch at the neck, high-heeled court shoes (which will be a devil to run in), and opaque black stockings. The only surprise is when Ginta takes out a pair of glasses.
"I don't need those," I tell her, "my eyesight's perfect."
"I know, it's just for the look," she says, "they are clear glass."
I put them on and find that she is right. She turns her attention to my hair, pinning it up into a rather severe bun. When I look at myself in the mirror I look ten years older than I am. I frown.
"Oh that's perfect!" Ginta exclaims, "The stricter you can look the better!"
When Ginta is finished a man in medics dress comes into the room. He tells me to stand still whilst he inserts something into my ear. It's something small and slips down right inside.
"What is it?" I ask anxiously.
"Nothing to worry about," he tells me, "just a small sensor array and a comms link, it's how they'll talk to you in the arena. Don't try to get it out; you won't be able to and you'll only damage your hearing trying. I'll remove it for you when it's all over tomorrow."
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