Mimzi Garrison: Unknown Soldier

Unknown Soldier by Breaking Benjamin

Full of fear

Ever clear

I'll be here

Fighting forever…

Mimzi Garrison (22) D5 Citizen

Hello. My name? What's in a name? Isn't it just something that is received at birth? The moment you're born and your parents are rejoicing of the birth of their child. Half of the mom, half of the dad created into this one being. Theirs.

I go by Mimzi. Mimzi Garrison. I do not know who my parents are; I do not know anything about my past. It is empty, missing.

It all started when I awoke in a vacant room, a jail cell of sorts where the walls were etched in tiny ticks and discoloration filled every inch of the walls encasing me. The floor beneath my figure was grainy, ash strewn across the small space. I brought dirtied hands to my face and gasped as the feeling under my fingertips was sunken, the skin lying thinly on my cheekbone.

My mouth and throat were dry, my sinuses clogged and I felt myself floating. My eyes began to cloud and the room was spinning, primal screams echoing throughout the halls as my eyelids drooped and fell as metal clanking was heard…

I was instituted in a mental hospital in the Capitol, finding out as I reawakened to a psychiatrist who asked me series of questions I had no answer for. Family members I had no recollection about. I was scared, so scared that I began to shut down emotionally and just sat there, trembling.

"What is my…name?"

"Your amnesia is severe, it doesn't matter now."

"But… what will I call myself."

"Anything you wish…"

I was a blank slate, no emotion other than fear and worry permeating my thoughts. I was alone, no one could understand me. I found out I was only sixteen at the time, spending the next two years in that damned place. Undergoing intense therapy and rehabilitation for my knees that were bashed into a million pieces that I found out to be the reason for my passing out earlier.

Not one memory was ever recovered, my amnesia permanent and unrecoverable.

I moved to District 5 were I worked in a power plant, soon becoming a higher up as I diligently studied physics and chemistry finding myself being of use in a world that had wiped my experiences and life in my first sixteen years of life.

Just last week however changed. A phone call that would send me into a new line of work, part of the national entertainment that I was spared from. The Hunger Games. This Icelynne Winterrose had called to inform me of a new Gamemaker position of sorts that had opened and recruited me to fill in. I complied and was soon escorted to the Capitol, the place where all my troubles began.

The Hunger Games had been something I had read about, in a book at the mental hospital's library that embellished what the Capitol does for the Districts, sending a tribute of two teens to fight on television in front of Panem to the death. Several picture depicting what the Games truly were staggered me. The violence and bloodshed sent me to slam the book shut and run back to my room, the images lingering until the next morning.

Here I am now, a Gamemaker and soon a killer…

"Ms. Garrison?"

My head shoots up and spot a petite blonde with big, round blue eyes accented with a myriad of colors from black to pink that comprises of her eye makeup all the way to her dress. She smiles and saunters over, her pink stilettos clicking against the marble floor.

"It's so nice to meet you! I'm Izzy," she exclaims as she shakes my hand. A small group of young adults file in through the large doors and head over, smiling and laughing.

"I'm Mimzi."

"Welcome to the Gamemaker team!" She gestures toward the four people behind her. "This here is Icelynne." The blonde waves, the corners of her mouth twitching into a nervous smile. "Next to her is Ky." The athletic male smiles, his dark green eyes dazzling. "This is Lucina." The woman sneers, her red eyes sending chills up my spine. "And that's Hunter." The tall brunette merely nods and fixes his tie.

"I'm Mi-Mimzi."

They all say hello, each shaking my hand. The small group of them seem so inviting as the five of us walk through hallways to a large dining room adorned with gold and silver décor, the large oak table frilled with silky lace and expensive silverware.

"Welcome to the Echo mansion," a booming voice sounds. Our heads snap to the small hallway in which a young woman with beautiful light green eyes enters her curly red hair down and cascades down her slim figure. "I'm President Seraphina Echo." She walks over to me and smiles.

"It's a pleasure to make your acquaintance." I curtsy and make my way to a chair that reads, 'Reserved for Mimzi' in curvy cursive. My body seems to form perfectly in the chair as the cushions form around me.

The four others sit across from me and begin to talk in hushed voices as President Echo sits at the far end of the table, her eyes bright and full. My eyes begin to wander to every inch of the magnificent room, pictures of past Presidents hung in a row on one side. The last being the beautiful ginger who embellishes a red robe and a golden tiara, a wide smile written across her slim face.


The doors swing open and within emerge a young man and a small boy who look weary and out of breath as both pant softly in the now still room. Their eyes are clear, the beautiful kind which read emotions clearly and are hard to look away from. The young boy's green eyes soften and he begins to hide behind his father. The young male chuckles softly as he pulls the young boy from behind him.

"We kinda got lost…"

The small boy nods and lowers his head. President Echo gestures them to the seats next to mine, the man taking his seat beside me. I feel the heat begin to travel to my face as his cologne reaches me.

"I'm Caleb Bronx," he states as he gestures his hand to himself and then his son, "and this is my son, Demetri."

The small boy's eyes widen, clear green filling the room and the corners of his lips turn up. He quickly darts his head down again, fiddling with the cloth napkin.

"Mimzi and Caleb, you are the new recruits for this Quarter Quell. I assure you, these other individuals will help guide you along the way," President Echo soothes as she points to the empty chair beside her. "And my son, Calloway. He's currently at District 12 at the moment, but you'll make his acquaintance sooner or later." She laughs and turns her attention to Demetri. "How old are you, Demetri."

"Six," the small boy whispers as bowls of salad and soup begin to make their way in front of us. My eyes widen at the delicacy of the lettuce and various vegetables added to make a quite colorful entre.

"Six! Ah, my daughter is six also." She smiles and relaxes into her seat. "She should be here momentarily…"

As soon as she finishes the doors once again fly open and a small girl with long, straight red hair makes her way to the table, her aqua blue eyes watering. "I'm sorry…"

"It's fine, Joylena. Take a seat."

The young girl takes a seat beside her mother and her eyes dart curiously around the table, her eyes landing on mine. "Mommy, who are these people?"

"These are our new guests, Caleb, Mimzi, and Demetri", she gestures to Demetri and smiles at her daughter. "Demetri here is staying with us."

Joylena's head jerks up. "Really?!" She gives a warm smile to him, her expression joyful. "Can we go to my room?"

President Echo chuckles softly. "Of course. I'll send your meals up." She turns to Caleb. "If it's okay with you, of course."

"Ah, yes. It's fine." He laughs and waves his son off, winking at him as the small boy looks back for a second and continues out the corridor with Joylena who has the faintest of smiles across her gentle features.

The door closes silently and we return to our meals, the atmosphere haunting. It all seems… fabricated. Among the luxurious décor and seemingly stable family lies something to be inspected. The small group of people that I must call co-workers are unstable, the deep, dark emotion in their seemingly bright eyes.

But most of all… I can't seem to forgot about those beautiful blue eyes. Bright, interesting, dark…

A/N: Next up is the first part of the Train Rides :)

What did you think of Mimzi?

Always, Domi