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Scar stared at his reflection in the mirror. Tall, tan and muscular, he was the picture of health. The picture of a perfect District 1 Tribute. A Victor. Inspecting every inch of his body, he was proud. He had grown a lot in the past year, he had become a man, with stubble coming in nicely, which he decided to shave to keep a youthful look. The small scars across his body, trophies of his training collected over the years, formed a flattering constellation of battles won. He played with his hair, trying to decide what hairstyle to go with for the Reaping, staring at his face up close and trying out every possible combination before settling on a half-up half-down look which allowed him to keep the charme of his longish hair while keeping his bangs out of the way. He wanted all of Panem to see his face clearly when he volounteered.
“The face of a Victor, that’s what you have!”
He said to himself, since he had no one there to give him a pep talk. His friends were surely waiting for him outside, so they could get to the Reaping together, where he’d walk in triumph to the stage.
“I volounteer as Tribute.”
Scar practiced the sentence, fine tuning his intonation as he had been for his whole life. He had always known that someday he would be a Tribute. All his life he had trained for that moment. Practiced swordfighting, knife throwing and, his favorite above all, archery. Since he was young he’d been a prodigy, never missing the shot. All the weapon training in the world would not have been enought though, so he had practiced survival skills aswell, starting fires and finding food. He had studied plants and animals to recognise poisonous and dangerous ones, as well as the previous Games, for strategies, patterns and tricks that the Gamemakers liked to use.
“I volounteer as Tribute.“
He had become an orphan young, he barely remembered what his parents looked like. But he’d gotten lucky as he’d quickly been taken into the training program for District 1 Tributes, and now that he’d finally requested to be allowed to go into the Games, and been approved, he felt that all his hard work was paying off. His trainers, his Mentors had looked at him proudly when giving him the news. He never missed his parents because other people were proud of him, and now it was his time to prove them right.
“I volounteer as Tribute.“
He looked down at his hands, strong and still, secure in their grip like they were when holding a bow, Scar imagined himself in the Games, running after other Tributes, taking the final shot. He wasn’t afraid. Life was that, kill or be killed. He knew by the end of his Games he would be a killer, but that didn’t phaze him. 148 people before him had won the Games, 148 people had become Victors, and all of them were killers, still they brought glory to their District and lived a lavish life amongst the Capitol. The people who raised him had told him he’d fit in well there, maybe he could even become a spokeperson for District 1, what an honor that would be.
“I volounteer as Tribute.“
There was nothing more to change, Scar was ready, he had been ready for a while now. Still he couldn’t bring himself to leave that bathroom. Was he scared? Had he grown scared of his biggest dream all of a sudden? He couldn’t. But they had warned him that he might, that after all he was walking into a death game willingly. His trainers had given him tips to cope with the emotions, even if what really bothered him was that he was feeling them in the first place.
“I volounteer as Tribute.“
He took a deep breath and steadyed himself on the sink, staring into the mirror, his own eyes staring back at him, not a hint of fear showing, despite what Scar felt. A deep breath, he imagined the glory and the praise. Another deep breath, he imagined the comfort and the love. One last deep breath, he knew this was his destiny, so he wouln’t throw it away. He wouldn’t be scared. He spoke to his own reflection one last time, seeing the crowd and all of Panem in front of him instead.
“I volounteer as Tribute.“