The stage was cold. Not in the beautiful, chilly with a hint of warm, mid Autumn way. No, it was cold in the bone crushing, soul rotting, out of body experience type of way.

Amelia had to admit--she loved it. With a giggle, she twirled a strand of perfectly curled hair around a finger. The soft oranges they'd applied to her eyelids contrasted the green just enough to pop, and the thickened black mascara only added to the effect. She licked her lips, tasting the rich, strawberry lipstick. Her eyes scattered about, collecting small bits of information while her body concentrated on looking absolutely stupid. The crowd was mostly quiet, oddly enough, and seemed on edge. A small stain lay on the wooden stage, next to the chair where she'd soon be sitting. Her heels clanked against the floor as her broad strides stole her away from the noise of backstage.

It was a shame. In the years past they had gone all out on the interviews, making the stage glow. This year it was so plain it nearly felt extraordinary.

Amelia twirled about in her pretty orange-red dress. It clung to her breasts and waist only to unfold like petals around her legs. Each rippling strand flowed flawlessly. The sheer fabric added in a chill to her bare legs. To counter the simplistic nature, solid black sequins bordered the top of the dress. It was strapless and didn't reach anywhere close to her knees, yet she made it look as innocent as a peach. Like a dim poppy, she thought, growing from the grave. I am Death.

"Next, we have Amelia Montaigne from District Two."

The woman sitting in a solid gray chair didn't know to be afraid of her. Amelia left the stupid smile on her face and sat down in the chair directly opposite. Quickly, she took in the host's outfit. Bubblegum pink. Made of some type of plastic and cloth mixture. Makes her boobs look fake. Bright makeup, long eyelashes. She giggled again.

"Like, I totally love the dress!" Amelia squealed. Her voice held the perfect amount of ditz in it.

The woman, Wisteria Wiles, didn't care for that. She merely raised a slender arm to snap her fingers. Long red nails. "Ah," she said.

"Like, what's the meaning of this?"

"Meaning?"

"What type of info do you want from me?" she asked, giving a coy smile. It couldn't be helped. Amelia knew she was smarter, stronger, and ninety times better than her. It was a given.

Wisteria's dark red lips pursed as she waited. Amelia wanted to charge her--to grasp her by the neck and demand answers. Her gaze turned to the audience. They spoke quietly, ignoring her presence. Don't they get that I'm the most important girl here? She felt like butchering them. The winner's on this stage.

"What a childish girl," Wisteria said. A yawn fell between each word. Who do you think you're talking to? "So. Montaigne, what makes you think you'll even survive the first hour?"

Amelia's rehearsed giggle rang. "Oh," she purred, "I dunno! I'll find some big strong guys to protect me. I'll make friends and stay away from danger."

Amelia's outward appearance didn't even scratch her surface. She was dimwitted at times, but behind that was a well trained, intellectual mind. The second the Games started she was going to let the bloodshed begin. Her desire for death was a disease that spread through her--she longed to feel the blood under her nails, her hair coiling about her face as a fierce wind blew against her, snarling as she struck her enemies down. The Capitol didn't control her. She controlled it. She wasn't the pawn, she was the Queen.

Wisteria didn't seem to care. She snapped her fingers again, impatient. "You think people will protect you?" A sharp, hate-filled laugh. "You're nothing but a toy. Who do you think you're fooling, Montaigne? Your manipulative concepts won't win the Games for you. Nor will your idiocy."

Anger boiled beneath her skin, hot and thick against her cheeks and chest. "Excuse me-"

The back stage door opened.

It didn't creak or make ominous sounds. No scary footsteps. Just people. A body carried in, just out of the cameras view, and placed across from Wisteria. The crumpled up form of an aging mother with a lovely face and polished green nails.

"Why, look who we have here."

Oh, please. Should I truly care about my damn mother? What will you do? Kill her? It was hard for Amelia not to snort as she let out a small gasp in mock-surprise. "Mommy?"

Shaking her head, the hostess nodded to the crowd. Amelia understood. Her mother wasn't here for her but to help control her.

"Mommy! Oh, I'm so happy you're here! I was just telling them how I'll win," Amelia explained. The men set up another chair and sat Amelia's mother in it. Of course, unless one had seen her dress rise to catch how her feet were chained, or had noticed the silver bracelets that attached immediately to the sides of the chair then no one would ever know she was stuck.

They want me to tell the truth. This woman will probably poison her, or order her death, if I don't play along to the Capitol Games. These idiots! Inside, she laughed at them, scorned them. I'll play, I'll play. But only because I'm in control.

Wisteria had more questions. "You're weak. Tell me, why won't they just kill you?"

"Because I'm me," she said. "No one wants to kill me. I'm sweet, kind, loving...and, I mean, the best kisser. Why kill me? What harm can I do?"

"Honey, you've trained for the Games since you were young," her mother said. Damn you.

She giggled again, "Yeah! But I'm not, like, good."

The act didn't seem to fool Wisteria in the slightest. "Oh, a girl like you can do plenty harm. But a pretty face won't win the Games." With an evil glint in her eyes, Wisteria snapped. Behind her the wall rippled. As if by magic, Amelia caught the slightest glint of a needle as her mother drew in a sharp gasp of air. They stabbed her. No, injected her. Because I lied? Amelia didn't find the irony amusing.

"Oh...only ugly ones? What if I became ugly?" Amelia worked hard to add in that childish, sad effect. Her eyes dropped and she sighed.

Wisteria laughed again. Her long nails scraped against Amelia's mothers arm, leaving a tiny white trail in their wake. If they kill her on this stage, will something happen to me? Shit.

"Should I, like, try and get hurt? Then I'll be ugly! I mean, I mean, like, I'm not so pretty now..." It was impossible to stop talking.

Her mother snorted through her pain, "Right." Shut up! I'm winning people over. Making them underestimate me. Go fuck yourself, whore.

"Tension much? Tell me, and don't lie, what good would it even do for you to live? You seem pretty damn useless."

Amelia broke for a second. Excuse me? "You see this dress?"

There was a pause.

"This is a poppy dress. A poppy is a beautiful flower that grows out of graveyards. They're strong and while they may look and be dainty, they cannot be stopped," she said. Amelia barely remembered the act she was supposed to keep up. Her voice grew softer, more sweet. "I don't want to die."

"What makes you any different?" Wisteria made a good point. So she's not all stupid. But she doesn't know who I am. None of them do. If they did, they'd bow at my feet. I am a Goddess. I am death in the finest form.

Simply, she replied, "Because I'm the best thing in this room. I'm the strongest there is."

A few outliers on the crowd laughed, some even daring to clap.

An eyebrow was raised at this. Wisteria pushed back her sleek hair, "Is that so?"

She smirked. "Of course. I'm--I may seem stupid, and girly, but I want to be fierce. Inside, I'm a poppy. This is my graveyard."

The small claps became a roaring thunder at that. They stood, calling out her name. As they should.

"I'm Amelia Montaigne, watch me grow." She giggled, knowing that her act may have been ruined. I can fix this. "Like, this was totally fun! I love speaking like that."

"Well, it was nice seeing you, Amelia Montaigne." Wisteria stood, giving her a fake smile as she nodded her head to the stage exit.

"Bye! Love you, Mommy!"

The lights faded out as she nodded. Metal scraped against wood as an aging woman was taken away. There was the slightest scream, then nothing.

"Hopefully you'll go far. A girl like you shouldn't die too awful soon," Wisteria called after her.

Amelia grinned as she frolicked off stage. Oh, trust me...I won't.