Metanoia - Chapter Fifteen (f.o)
Summary: you will be crowned victor of the 75th hunger games.
Word Count; 10.7k
Warnings; swearing, mention of murder and torture
NOTES: i give reader a last name to fit the world.
uhhh long ass chapter jfc
–
You tap the end of the spoon against the table, “Maybe more gasoline?”
Beetee gives you a look, “I’ve engineered these perfectly--”
“I’m literally from District Two, I manufactured weapons. Just add a bit more gas, and see what happens, it can’t hurt, can it?”
Beetee readjusts the glasses on his face, “I suppose not.” he gets to work, and you scoop some of the carrots onto your spoon, trying not to make a face when you force them down your throat. They’ve gotten cold from how long you’ve been stalling, “You’ve made molotov arrows before?”
“Well…” you make a face, and he turns his eyes to you, “I wouldn’t say that. I’ve… experimented that’s for sure.”
Gale laughs, “What does that mean?”
“It means I’ve illegally made weapons and sometimes started bush fires because of it,” you laugh, “And I’ve never been caught, either.”
“Maybe you shouldn’t be in here.” Beetee mutters.
You roll your eyes, “As if I would willingly do work now. Just telling you to add more gas was a bore.”
Beetee screws the top back onto the arrow, being careless with it to see if it’ll explode or whatever. Which means that you should definitely put some distance between you and the psychopath here, you’re not too fond of being inside of a molotov. No matter how small that arrow is, there will be a ton of fire.
“Give it a shot.” you motion at Gale, “Seriously.”
“It won’t set the studio on fire?”
“You’re talking to the two engineers, here. Go ahead before I do it myself.”
Gale picks up the crossbow, and then takes the arrow that Beetee is offering him. While he prepares everything, you swivel around to face Gale, while Beetee has to turn the entire wheelchair to see.
“I’ve been trying to make a trident for Finnick.” Beetee begins, the two of you watch Gale prepare, the people on the other end of the room have fire extinguishers ready to put the fire out as soon as the arrow is fired.
“Don’t make it look like an actual trident, keep the design as close as possible to the one he had inside of the arena.” you scoop up another spoonful of carrots, “And make it hollow in the middle, it’ll be easier to move around--and you can make it compatible that way too.”
“Ready?” Gale asks.
“We’ve been ready.” you eat the cold, slimy carrots.
Gale fires the arrow, and right when it hits the bullseye, it explodes into fire. The entire target, the wall behind it, mostly the floor and some get onto the ceiling too. The crew runs forward, putting out the fire before it can spread across the entire room.
You look at Beetee, “See? Not too shabby.”
“Know any ways to make them waterproof?”
“Wax, water rolls right off of it. Don’t lay it on too thick, and you’ll be just fine.” You set the empty tray onto the table, “
“They should have sent you down here sooner.” Gale says, coming back over, “Imagine how much faster all of this would have been made.”
“Beetee would have gotten fed up with me, if he isn’t already.” you say, stretching.
“You’re not too bad to be around.”
“You only like me because I make your weapon engineering much easier. I’m able to catch your mistakes before you even make them.” you tuck your legs in.
He ignores what you said, moving on to Gale, “How’s Katniss doing?”
Gale doesn’t give much of an answer, “Recovering.”
“Let me guess, she’s still mad at you?” you raise your eyebrows. For this, he tells you to shut up. You shrug, getting back to the sketch you were working on for your own personal weapon, “Hey, if you can’t see how out of line you were, then that’s your deal.”
“How was I out of line?”
You place the sketchbook on your knee, “Dude, you called her fiance weak for doing what he could to stay alive. Obviously you two are still pretty close after that, but I wouldn’t have made a comment like that.” you pause for a moment, looking at Gale, “Then again, you don’t know what it’s like to be under a microscope, you can run your mouth all you want, because you were nothing but a coal miner.”
Gale practically rolls his eyes, “I know what it’s like, Katniss had to start calling me her cousin.”
“Katniss was the one being watched, don’t flatter yourself.” you go back to what you were doing.
“She’s right.” Beetee chips in, “(Y/n), I mean.”
“Right.”
The sound of boots on cement makes you look up, expecting Gale to be the one walking away. He doesn’t normally like to take shit from you or Beetee. Coming down here is like a safe place, allowing him to vent and blow steam when he gets to test out the new fancy weapons.
Gale stands right where he was before, which means that it’s someone else. And since Beetee can’t walk, you turn around in the chair to see who it is.
It’s Finnick. His hands are in his pockets, with a gleeful smile on his face, “Good afternoon.”
Gale is just as suspicious as you are, “What are you up to?”
“What was I up to.” he corrects, coming to a stop behind your chair, “It’s a surprise.”
Beetee makes a face, and then wheels himself around so that he’s facing the table again. As he gets back to work, you resume critiquing Gale, and Finnick finds where he wants to be.
“Gale, don’t get me wrong, I can sorta see where you’re coming from, but you need to see it from our perspective too.” you drop your leg, “Let’s compare you to Peeta, since you were doing that already by saying you’d never say what you said.
“He had absolutely no clue what the fuck was going on. Peeta didn’t know that there was a plan to get him and Katniss out of the arena, he didn’t know that Coin was planning on using Katniss as a symbol. The only things he did know was what the Capitol fed him to get him on their side.
“And if you still can’t see eye to eye with it, imagine a gun pointed to Katniss’ head. If you so much as step out of line in a way that Snow doesn’t like, he’ll shoot her. It’s not his family, friend or girlfriend that he’s killing, it’s yours. And if you don’t cooperate after Katniss, he’s grabbing the next dearest thing to you.” you lean back in the chair, “And before you say shit, Snow literally did that to me twice. First was right after I won my games and he killed my entire family, and the second time was when we found Tanith dead in a chair. It’s a little different for Tanith, because she was already dead, but he still tried to use her against me.”
“Okay, but what were they threatening Peeta with?”
“His life, for starters.” Finnick says, “And likely his family too.”
Gale doesn’t say anything after that.
“How’s this design?” You offer the sketchbook for Beetee, and he takes it.
“We could probably start this now.” Beetee says, “Mind doing something for Finnick, too?”
“Sure.”
He hands it back, but Finnick takes it before you’re able to grab a hold of it. Sighing, you look up at Finnick, watching his face as he looks over the page, “These are swords.”
“Sai’s.” you correct.
Finnick gives you a look, “But it says right here--”
“--that it’s basically a sword, yes, I know. Normally they’re used to disarm someone--as I showed you before. But I want some that are actually sharp. Blunt force trauma is fun, but what’s even more fun is spilling someone’s guts in front of them.”
Finnick hands the book back, “Sword.”
“Sure.” you cross your legs, “What are you here for, other to annoy me?”
“Keeping an eye on you three for the next couple of hours.” Finnick pulls up a chair of his own, mirroring your stance.
“Sounds exciting.”
Everything falls back into rhythm. Beetee goes back to tinkering on arrows, having Gale use the decoys. And the times he’s not shooting arrows, he’s sitting in a chair talking to you guys. You cough up a couple of sketches for Beetee, hoping that it’ll be good enough.
You might be the one from District Two, but that doesn’t mean you actually put things together. The legal age to actually get into the warehouses is eighteen, and since you went into the games at sixteen and won, you never really had to work. You’ve sat on money for your entire life. The only people that worked were your parents, aunts and uncles and some of your cousins.
Those same cousins taught you how to put things together before your games--obviously. During family get togethers, you’d all disappear for a little while, which is when they’d take the chance. They always thought it was so cool to pass on forbidden knowledge, and have it all be a secret between you guys.
They had this secret stash of gadgets inside of a log, and they’d fuck around with it until it turned into something dangerous. Honestly, the first thing you learned from them was the molotov, and when you threw it on a rock, it exploded and the dead grass around it caught fire.
Cue you all scooping the gadgets into your shirts and taking off behind the houses to get as far as possible. Your older cousin had a backup spot not too far away, you dumped all the shit there and got back to the house in record time. Before the firefighters had even left their stations.
It’s a wonder why you weren’t caught, cause that wasn’t the first time that area specifically had been set on fire, and it wouldn’t be the last either. The firefighters definitely had an idea of why it would always set ablaze, but never pursued it. After a while, they started to monitor the place on extremely hot days, thinking that it was the sun that was starting the fires.
If only they had known that it was a bunch of teenagers doing that shit for fun.
After a while, Beetee gets tired of the arrows and starts over to the crew to begin making the sai’s. While they’re heating up the metal, he gets to making the hilt.
“I feel like we’re doing more work than we have to.” you look at Beetee.
“Do you want it to be fucked up, or do you want it to be done right the first time?” He raises his glasses above his eyes when he looks right back at you.
“The first time.” you sigh.
When you get back to work, Finnick moves in closer, curious as to how you’re designing his new weapon. Every now and then he’ll point out the practicalities, and weighing in on how he would rather it be built.
“This doesn’t even look like a trident anymore.” you hold the journal away from your face, and turn it so it’s long-ways since the entire trident spans over both pages, “It’s basically the opposite.”
“But think of it this way.” Finnick reaches over, touching where the blades of the trident are, “Initial stab, right? But the rest of this does more damage.”
There’s a spear point at the top of the trident, which isn’t the problem. That’s pretty normal when it comes to the design. However, instead of wanting all the other blades facing up and towards it, he wants it downwards.
“And you can even make it compatible!” Finnick grins.
“At least we agree on one thing.” You pass the journal to him, “Go ahead and show Beetee, he’s the one in charge.”
Finnick goes over, and it’s basically halfway across the room, since Beetee is hovering over the crew’s work like a hawk. He wasn’t playing around when he said that he would like it to be perfect the first time around.
“Finnick’s into you.” Gale says.
“You say that like he’s not my soulmate.” you give Gale a look, “Also, I’m not into Finnick.”
“Why?”
“Because I’m not a teenager and I don’t date people right after they broke up with their girlfriends.” you turn back to Finnick to see that he’s discussing the weapon with Beetee and a crew member.
“If there was no Annie, would you have dated him then?”
You squint, “No.”
Gale laughs, but doesn’t say anything because Finnick is heading your guys’ way again. He drops the journal in Beetee’s workspace on his way over, “Beetee will start it tonight.”
“Cool.” you get up, picking up the lunch tray, “Am I free to leave now?”
“Yes,” Finnick says, but he makes a point to stay in front of both you and Gale.
“See ya later, Beetee!” you shout, “Send someone if you need my help.”
He waves, and then goes back to hovering.
Finnick starts up the staircase first, and Gale walks beside you, “Any progress on Peeta?”
Gale rolls his eyes, you can feel it, “Same as he was before. I saw him before coming here.”
“Katniss still saying no?” you look over.
Gale nods.
“That’s reasonable, I wouldn’t want to go near him either…” you trail off for a moment, and then laugh to yourself.
Finnick glances over his shoulder curiously, “What is it?”
You chuckle a bit, “Out of everyone, I’m definitely last on the list of people he wants to see.”
“Why’s that?”
Your smile is small as you look at your feet, rather than up at Finnick, “I nearly killed Peeta.”
“After the birds? I know--” Finnick says.
“No, after. After you had been pulled out of the arena, did I tell either of you that story?”
Gale says no, which is expected, but Finnick thinks about it before answerings, “We talked about emotion when you first got here, and how intense it was.”
“Well, after I left the lightning tree, my real goal was to go downhill and straight for the cornucopia. I thought that if the jungle were to burn, I would need to take my chances in the middle. On the way, I found a livid Peeta, and a strangely calm Johanna.” you smile, “Peeta started screaming at me instead, and Johanna urged me not to do anything.
“But then Peeta backed me into a rock, so when I got up, I punched him twice. Kicked him a couple of times while he was down, and then Johanna stepped in--” Finnick has slowed down now, he watches you, “--and naturally I knocked her out with a single right hook, since she’s… weak to say the least. She hit her head on a rock on the way down, and I thought I’d finish her off later.
“As for Peeta, it was just him and I.” the smile develops into a grin, “I was about to rip him apart--and I mean minutes from doing it. But then the peacekeepers came and I thought that it would be better to leave the situation as it was.”
“You’re… sadistic.” Gale says.
“I’ve heard it all before.” you say, looking at Finnick.
“At least you didn’t kill them.” Finnick says.
“Peeta knew that I was about to. Doesn’t matter if I did it or not.”
Gale laughs now, “You should go visit him to see what he says.”
“He’d probably get mad at me for not killing him when I had the chance. I’m surprised he didn’t strangle me in that hovercraft.”
“The tracker jacker venom fucked with his head, he probably barely recognized you.” Gale says.
At the top of the staircase, Finnick stops you, “We’ll see you later, Gale.”
“Sounds good to me. I’m going to see Boggs.”
You salute as a joke, getting an eye roll in return. Finnick purposely waits until Gale is gone, and then he moves out of your way, “You’re getting better.”
“At making people like me?” you ask, giving Finnick a look, “You know, a genius once told me that I’m not as dislikable as I think.”
Finnick raises his eyebrows, “A genius you say?”
“Maybe not a genius.” you laugh, and Finnick joins in, “So what were you up to?”
“You’ll see in a couple of hours.”
“Is that why we aren’t getting off on the floor we normally do?” you stare at your feet.
“We’re heading straight for the medical floor to Johanna.”
You stop on the stairs, and Finnick gets a couple of steps above you, “Did you not just hear my whole story?”
“The worst Johanna will do is run her mouth about the fact that you didn’t kill her when you had the chance. And if you don’t believe me, you can ask one of the nurses. We’ve heard her speech a couple of times now.”
“Then can I opt out and go to the dorm instead?” you start up the stairs again.
“You’re really going to leave me to talk to Johanna?”
Your eyebrows draw together, “You’re the one that wants to see her!”
“Come on, we see Johanna and then we go to the dorm right after, I promise.” Finnick says.
You hold out your pinky for Finnick, and with a slight chuckle, he pinky promises you. The two of you resume your journey up the stairs, and then he says, “Unless we talk for too long.”
You press your lips together, not giving him the satisfaction of a reaction. He laughs anyway.
When the two of you reach Johanna’s room, you hang by the door, not really wanting to go inside. You don’t like the look of the room, much less the idea of being back inside of it. Ever since you’ve been granted the freedom, you’ve made a point of not coming back to the hospital--or infirmary--floor, no matter the reason.
The other day, you cut your hand on a blade down in the workshop. The crew had wanted to call someone down to come and take care of you, and you barely stopped them in time. Over your dead body, would you be brought back here to sit and wallow in white for a couple of days.
Especially over something as childish as a cut. So, you found the first aid kit, cleaned out the wound and Beetee stitched it up for you. The crew was a little surprised how calm you were during the entire procedure but the only thing you had to say was ‘high pain tolerance’ after all your years of bullshit.
So being back here makes you nervous. As if someone will pop out from one of the walls and tie you down to a bed for absolutely no reason. You’re perfectly healthy, and the nurses and doctors knew this. Even after you had tests that came back negative for poison in your system, you were required to stay.
Finnick and Johanna’s conversation is surprisingly normal and boring. There was absolutely no reason for you to tag along, except for Finnick’s own request. The only reason why you’re here is to be nice.
As if Finnick’s read your mind, he looks at you, “(Y/n) been helping Beetee out in the workshop lately, designing weapons.”
Johanna’s eyes drag over to you, bored of it already, “She’s being helpful for once?”
You stare at her.
“She’s done quite a lot, Johanna.” Finnick says, looking back at her, “She’s the one that opened the conversation about rescuing you and the others from the Capitol.”
“For her own benefit.” Johanna laughs, “Because she can’t stand being alone. It’s why she’s kept you around so long, you know? Not because she likes you, but because she needs another soul to harvest. She’s like the fucking grim reaper.” she looks at you now, “A heartless murderer.”
You take a deep breath, and then a smile spreads over your face, “I should have killed you when I had the chance. At least then, there would be one less leech on the morphling supply.” you spit, “You deserve everything that Snow gave you, the waterboarding, the near-drowning. It’s a shame that he only kept you alive so you’d suffer and become nothing but another downer on everyone around you.”
Finnick’s head whips in your direction, clearly not expecting the outburst. You’ve been so good for so long, but there’s something about Johanna that just gets you steaming.
“I should have stomped your head into that fucking rock in front of Peeta.” you seethe, “And then I should’ve beaten Peeta to death, because you two weren’t nearly worth sacrificing my life over.” you shake your head, “You’re nothing but another morphling addict. Another victor that couldn’t take the fucking heat. If I were you, I’d just kill myself from how embarrased I’d be.”
Johanna’s been smiling at you the entire time, like she wanted this sort of reaction, and so you finish it off, “It’s probably how Blight felt too.”
Her smile drops, and her hand is reaching towards the needles in her arms before her feet have even hit the ground. You stand your ground, allowing Finnick to get her to stop because she does some real damage to her veins.
“(Y/n)--go!” Finnick’s angry, and he glares at you over his shoulder.
“My fucking pleasure.” you spit, leaving the doorway.
It was worth it. Every word that left your mouth was fucking worth it. Being nice to people is such a fucking chore, especially when it’s towards people who don’t deserve it.
You stand in the stairwell for a moment, thinking about where you’d want to go. But there’s really no place that’s safe if Finnick comes looking for you. The workshop and dorm are an obvious place, as well as the stream you stumbled upon. He’ll check with Boggs and Gale--and there’s no one else here that likes you.
You hate it here.
You thought you would be able to make this place feel like a real home and maybe even like it, but it’s not worth it. This whole place isn’t worth it to you.
Everything inside of you is a frenzy.
You have to go home.
You start up the staircase, knowing that seeing Plutarch and finding a ride would be the place to start. He might not be happy about it, but there’s really no need for you here. You’re not doing anything besides designing personal weapons that Beetee likes and doesn’t like.
Occasionally you’re genuinely helpful with dumb shit, but that’s the extent of it. Other than that, you’re miserable. The freedom you have isn’t actual freedom.
You hop up the last couple of steps, and round the corner to the door to the control room. You practically throw it open, nearly letting it hit the wall, when your hand appears between the crack to stop it.
At your appearance, a few people look over. The only eyes who stick are Boggs, Gale, Haymitch and Plutarch.
“Where’s Finnick?” Gale asks.
“Not his owner,” you go down the steps, eyes on Plutarch, “I want a ride to District Two. Your next hovercraft is mine to take.”
Boggs stands up, crossing his arms, “What about the workshop?”
“Boring, Beetee has it under control.”
“And Finnick?” Haymitch asks, “I thought you were just liking it here--”
“I’m a liar.”
Gale sighs, “Tell us what happened.”
“Johanna and I are going to end up killing each other the next time we come face to face.” your eyes land on Plutarch to see he has an eye on his watch, “So unless you feel like cleaning up a dead body, I’ll take one free ticket to District Two.”
“The next hovercraft is leaving in fifteen minutes.” Plutarch looks up now, “I’ll call in and let them know you’re going.”
“Does Finnick know you’re doing this?” Gale asks, “He’s going to be upset if we have to tell him--”
“It’s his fault for getting attached to me.” your face is serious, and then the smile spreads over your face, because of the irony of that statement. After what Johanna had said… “He’s your problem now, good luck.”
You go up the steps, heading right out the door you came in. You can’t take the staircase to the top, so you make your way to the elevator instead. You press the button, waiting patiently with a smile on your face.
The hovercrafts that they’re using to get the supplies to and from District Two are the slow type. District Thirteen is in no rush to get the crates there, so it won’t be a surprise to you if it takes more than just a couple of hours for you to get there. Or if it makes stops along the way.
The elevator arrives, you pull up the safety bar, and then step inside, pulling it back down. You punch the top floor button with your thumb, then you go to stare as the floors disappear beneath your feet.
At least back home you don’t have to act and lie for the happiness of others. Especially if your first and only stop is going to be your house in victor’s village. And if you need groceries, it looks like you’ll be hunting for food to eat. Or you might actually have to go into town and ransack the already destroyed buildings.
Most of the people that used to own the shops are probably dead, or they won’t be returning back home for a while. The entirety of victor’s village is going to be a graveyard--there might even still be rotting bodies inside of the houses. If the smell is too unbearable, you could always bury the corpses yourself.
It wouldn’t be the first time.
At the top, there’s someone waiting on the ramp. You don’t bother waiting for them to tell you to hurry it up, you start jogging immediately. The faster you get on, the faster you can take off.
“I’m ready.” you say when you get to the ramp.
“Good, take a seat and strap in.” the man follows you in.
--
The whole district is in ruins.
The last time you were here, everything seemed to be in near perfect condition, apart from the obvious looting that had taken place. The broken windows, and the wood splinters in the gravel could be easily looked over. But it’s much harder to see this place as it once was.
Most stores and houses that were made out of wood, and had been passed down from generation to generation have been burned to ashes or their cement flooring. There’s nothing left of them, not the furniture inside, and definitely not the foundation. If you didn’t know any better, you’d say that they were vacant lots.
If they couldn’t burn, then they were bombed. Chunks of cement and brick have now joined the mixture in the gravel. The roofs have long since caved in, and just one gust of wind makes the walls shudder. All it would take is one more bomb dropped in this area, and it all would come crashing down.
The air around you is hardly breathable too. Before you had stepped off the hovercraft you were given a mask--not the same gas mask that you’d used during the tribute center invasion--and a pair of sunglasses that would help you see through the debris and smoke.
It’s almost like fog, but so much worse. It’s smoke from fires that can’t be put out, and it’s from the bombs that are from your own district. The loyalists and the rebels are still fighting over this place. Katniss’ visit here hadn’t done much good, in fact you’d say that it made it a lot worse.
As you wander through the streets towards victor’s village, you come up with a lousy plan that’ll likely get you killed.
Coin had thought that sending Katniss here was a good idea, but it wasn’t by any means. Katniss got a bullet to her ribs, which bruised a ton of them, and put her right back into a hospital bed. They clearly didn’t think about what would happen if you mix people who don’t mind the games, with someone who’s leading a rebellion.
You’ve seen the speech, and as heartfelt as it was, it’s not what they want to hear.
Here’s the way you saw it at first; this girl from the poorest part of District Twelve is kicking up a rebellion that’ll likely destroy the system that’s making District Two rich, and the favorite. District Two thinks that they’re going to get everything taken away from them. Their houses, nice clothes and furniture, the good paying jobs.
You would all much rather send in the two kids a year--mostly because your children are prepared ahead of time, and therefore the career districts have nothing to lose--than take the risk of getting everything taken away. The Capitol absolutely adores you guys, with all that you supply them.
So, instead of having the girl that’s leading the rebellion try and convince the loyalists that they’re on the wrong side. You have someone who’s lived in the same luxury as them do it instead. How is Katniss supposed to understand how you all feel? She despised the games, while the rest of you adored it.
The outsider districts don’t understand the need for luxury and favoritism. They’ve lived on the hated side of the Capitol for a long time. The Capitol expects them to underperform in the games, so that’s why they don’t ever see the spotlight until they get a winner.
Anyway, you’re going to get to your house, change into something that says ‘living in luxury’ and then march your way to the justice building. There, you won’t ask for any sort of protection but an escort there instead. You won’t carry any weapons, you won’t pull on a bulletproof vest.
If they shoot you, then they’ll have made their choice very clear.
The gate entrance to the village is all sorts of broken. You barely push the metal door open, and the entire thing falls apart in your hands. You have to prop it up against the fence, being sure that it won’t fall over before you move on to go inside. Then, you waste no time with a quick jog through.
The fountain in the first part of the village is dry. The cement is no longer grey, it’s black from the amount of fire that must have washed through here. On the tiles that line the bottom, there’s melted coins. You’re tempted to reach in and pick one out when you realize just how bad of an idea that is.
You continue down the stone brick path after that, taking in note of every house that you pass. The doors are slightly ajar, most windows seem to be shattered, and a couple are burned down to the foundation. Most still stand though, Sorcha, Enobaria, Brutus, Tanith and Zavian’s seem to be in good condition.
As for Lyme, her house is completely gone. You have an idea that it might be because of the fact that she’s helping the rebels, and some of the loyalists must’ve gotten behind their lines to come and burn hers down specifically. As for the others, there must be a bigger story behind it.
As you come into the third part of the neighborhood, you cross your fingers as you hope it’s not like Lyme’s. You just want a moment inside of a clean house, to be able to go upstairs and find out that there’s running water. Then you’ll take a shower, get dressed in fancy clothing and put on makeup as if there isn’t hellfire around you.
It takes you a moment to find it, because all the houses in this section are still standing. And then you realize that your house is the only one that looks fresh. It hasn’t been touched by all the ash and smoke, it’s still as bright white as the day you received it. Perfect condition.
No windows are broken, the wood and cement show no signs of it being on fire at any point in time. The door is shut tight, a little stuck so you have to rattle the handle until it comes loose. You swing the door wide open, standing in the doorway as you wait to see a mess.
But it’s clean. Of course, the house has collected dust, but there’s no blood. There’s no broken vases, or stuffing all over the floor. It’s how you left it.
You shut the door behind you, locking it for good measure. As you go inside, you can’t help but to look around and gape like you’re on a house tour. Nothing has been touched, which is the part that baffles you the most. Both the inside and outside are great.
For a moment, you’re not sure why you’re so surprised that nothing had happened--apart from the fact that the whole neighborhood is disgusting. And then you remember the last time you came home from the games. With the house torn apart with dead bodies frozen in time.
“He seriously fucked me up, didn’t he?” you ask, laughing to yourself.
The house does smell pretty bad though, and the scent only gets stronger the more you head towards the kitchen. You have to plug your nose, strictly breathing in and out through your mouth, blinking away the tears that form in your eyes. It’s just so strong…
Going through the doorway, you take your time to look for anything that might be off. There is nothing, but you’re sure that it was coming from here specifically, and the second that you test the water with a breath of air through your nose, you gag. You go back to breathing through your mouth, even though you can taste the toxicity.
It’s not gas, that’s for sure. It’s something else…
The kitchen, the smell, the fact you haven’t been here--it’s the fridge. The food inside of the fridge and the cupboards are likely rotting. You can picture the mold in your mind already, and you shiver a little. Deciding that it’s better not to investigate further, you head straight upstairs instead.
On the way to your room, you can’t help but to pop open the doors and take a look inside. It’s just the paranoia now that’s making you do this. You don’t think you’ll find anyone in here, it’s just the thought of someone maybe hiding and waiting for you. A house like yours shouldn’t be in perfect condition, not after everything that’s happened.
And yet, there is nothing. Not even in your master bedroom, and not in the bathroom either. Despite this, you also lock your bedroom door, stripping on the way to the bathroom. And when you get inside of there, you lock that one too. For a second, the water in the shower runs cold, but then it turns warm.
While you let it heat up a little more, you take a look at yourself in the mirror for the first time in a couple of weeks. The mirrors that they have in District Thirteen are practically useless, they might as well not have them at all. You can barely see your face in them, and they’re permanently fogged over. At first, you thought that there was a protective film, until you realized that they were just shit quality.
Your fingers dance along the scars that cover you from head to toe. You turn your body to get a better angle, only to be disappointed when they continue. You force yourself to lean onto the counter, even though you’re so incredibly uncomfortable now, but curiosity is what’s fueling it all.
Then you’re able to see that the spider bite scars exist on your face too. They’re faint though, not too noticeable. What is noticeable, is the fact that there’s a scar that’s right beneath your eye. It’s so small that you can see it, even with you leaning over the counter.
You wipe the fog off the mirror, hopping onto the counter. You’re basically pressed against the mirror with how you’re seated as you desperately try to see what the fuck is beneath your eye. Wiping the mirror again, you take your chance to see.
C.S.
Your face twists as you back up, trying to think of who has those initials. Much less who would leave it on you like they’re marking their territory. You slide off the counter, rubbing beneath your eye, wishing that it’ll just go away, but it won’t.
Then it clicks, and you almost wish it hadn’t.
Coriolanus Snow.
You stare at yourself in the mirror, mouth hanging open as you watch the fog take over the mirror again, and your naked figure is covered up as a result.
He marked you. Snow fucking marked you like you’re his pet.
Your hand has swiped the vase off the counter before you’ve realized it. It isn’t until it’s shattered, when you’re jumping out of your skin. Even then, you’re still captivated by the amount of rage that’s running through your veins.
“Motherfucker!” you yell, digging your nail into the spot, gritting your teeth when it hurts. But it has to go. It has to be defaced. You won’t be seen as his. You don’t belong to Snow.
It’s a relief when your bare nail breaks skin. Though, more pain spikes in that one spot, and even in your eye a little bit. You lean on the counter, squeezing your eyes shut and giving yourself a moment to recover before you head into the shower.
You can’t fucking believe this.
--
You had always told yourself that you would be saving this dress for an occasion that you’d never be able to replicate. No weddings, funerals or parties. No victory tour, no get together, no reaping. You had to save it for something that would be groundbreaking, something that would change the game altogether.
At first, you didn’t want to pick it up for even this. Then you remembered that you have a chance of dying, and thought that was an event you’d never be able to replicate. Because you’d be dead.
And now that you’re walking to the justice buildings, holding the dress up so that it doesn’t get caught in the gravel and what lies inside of you, you’re beginning to see that you’ve got to make it count. Not the dress, but this entire encounter. If they don’t end up killing you, they’re definitely not going to let you come back again. Not peacefully, at least.
All you have to do is make them hesitate. Make them think for the rebel’s side for a second. That’s all you need. A moment of apprehension that they’ll never be able to take back. And since you’re pretty good at playing devil's advocate, this will be a walk in the park.
Seeing a sudden blast of dust and dirt heading your way, you make a home behind a building, aiming the umbrella you’re holding towards the corner that’s closest to you. It takes a moment before the dust storm comes through. The rocks pelt the plastic, and they attack your bare legs.
Since the umbrella is see-through, you’re able to tell when it dies down. You don’t wait to make sure that it’s over completely, because you never know when another gust will roll on in. At some point in time, you recognize the streets that the scouting group had brought you through, so you take that carefully.
You’re still fairly surprised that Paylor and Lyme hadn’t taken your statement of a survey group into consideration. And if they did, then that didn’t last as long as you thought it would. It’s literally only been two to three weeks since you were here last.
You guess that just means that they can’t spare the people as much as they could before. Which says a lot--that they’re losing the battle they swore that they’d be able to win. Coin said in one of her speeches that it wouldn’t be easy, and it would take a while. And here you are, thinking that you’ll be able to change their minds in a day.
“Watch this.” you smile to yourself.
You go around a corner, only to stop dead in your tracks. Standing right in front of you are some pretty armored people, holding a gun pointed straight at your chest.
“State your name and business.”
“I see Lyme’s upgraded her shitty guards.” you give him a smile, “(Y/n) Rosecelli.”
He lowers the gun, “You’re supposed to be in District Thirteen.”
“It’s not as glamorous as it seems.” you say, continuing your way down the alley, “Quite boring. Is Lyme in the justice building?”
“Yes, I can bring--”
“I’ve got it.” you cut him off, leaving him behind you.
“I wouldn’t recommend going that way.”
“Whatever!” you shout, going right out.
The steps to the building are pretty wrecked, but there’s just enough stone for you to be able to go up them. You hike the dress up a little higher, stomping your heels when you step, as you try to get the gravel and glass off your shoes. The people standing outside the building seem confused at first.
“Excuse me.” you say, moving right past them as you head through the doors.
You take the stairs up, still having an iron grip on the dress. You won’t let it down until you’re standing in front of rebels. You swear on everything.
You pass a third set of guards on your way inside of the meeting room that they had used the first time. When the door pops open, you can see a familiar face on the hologram screen. Alma Coin.
Paylor and Lyme look over simultaneously to see who’s entered the room.
“(Y/n)’s here.” Lyme says, standing up now.
“Good.” Coin says, “Won’t you join us?”
You make a face, stepping inside and shutting the door. You don’t head that far inside, sticking rather close to the door, but still in sight of the camera.
“Finnick’s been looking everywhere for you.” Coin tells you calmly, “We just broke the news to him.”
“And?” you ask.
“He’s disappointed that he went through all that trouble to throw a party for you.”
So that’s what he was doing earlier. Throwing you a party, and for what? God, you can’t imagine the headache you would have had through the whole thing. Fake a smile, pretend to like it. The only parties you do like are the types that go on inside of the Capitol.
It’s all lavish there. The foods are delicious, the sweets and the sour foods. The drinks they have that you swear are going to make you dehydrated, but you drink anyway. The people there are always so friendly, even when they aren’t. They’re so stupid and naive that it makes it enjoyable to be around them.
Not to mention they worshipped you.
“Am I supposed to care?” you ask, crossing your arms, “Can’t be a very good party with your district. The entire thing is probably being attended by a total of ten people, and the food and drinks are twenty years old. I’m not missing out on anything, trust me.”
Coin bites her tongue, smiling, “Maybe it’s best that you’re back in District Two, then.”
“I’m done talking to you.” you give her a mock smile, turning to Lyme and Paylor, “I’m going to solve this whole loyalist problem for you in a second. Do you want to send a camera crew with me just in case it works?”
Lyme’s confused, “No offense, but what makes you think it’ll work? Especially with your mouth?”
“Cause I know you guys have been approaching it all wrong, and rather than having a second person fuck it up for you ingrates, I’ll do it myself. I may be selfish but I’m also open minded and have a way of words when I’m not being a complete bitch.” you look at Coin, “And if it does work, you don’t get to say you planned it at all. I’m not Katniss, and I won’t be easily manipulated.
“On top of that, you’ll also owe me a shiny, brand new apartment in the heart of the Capitol. Otherwise you can take that propaganda footage and shove it up that ass of yours.” you point to Lyme and Paylor, “Camera crew, now.”
You leave the room after that, and Paylor approves the camera crew, asking one of the people in the room with them to go ahead and gather the people. In the meantime, you take a look at yourself in the nearest bathroom. Your makeup and hair are still how you left it, and the dress isn’t that dirty either.
When you get outside, there’s people already waiting to take you to the tunnels. And for their protection, they’re bringing volunteers with them. As for you, you’ll be out in the open just as you asked for.
“I live in luxury.” you tell yourself, raising your head a bit, “I belong in the Capitol. I am a loyalist. These rebels have no idea what they’re doing.”
You take the train tracks straight to the tunnel. The mountain has long since collapsed, which drew out most of the loyalists. And with Katniss’ speech after, a few surrendered. But there’s still plenty of people inside of there.
“I don’t know if we can follow you inside.” one of the girls tells you nervously, “It’s dark and unhealthy in there. If they begin firing, we’ll be the first to be brought down.”
“No, I will.” you say, “They’ll likely let you all live. If those cameras zoom well, keep as much of a distance as you can spare.”
The girl nods, “We trust you.”
You press your lips together, because it’s a first, “If I reach for my dress and turn my body like I’m going to run, you should take off immediately. I don’t plan on running, but I will if it gets too risky.”
“We’ll keep an eye out, I promise.”
Inside the tunnel, it’s even dirtier than you expected. Nonetheless, you all push through. The camera crew and the couple of armed people have masks over their face, but you work right through the dirt and smoke filled air. Even if you put a mask on now, you’ll have to take it off to talk anyway. There would be no point to it, you’re going to breathe in the air whether you like it or not.
“Stop!” A voice shouts, and you all come to a halt.
“Stay here.” you tell the crew.
Lights turn on, you cover your eyes for a moment as you blink through, trying to get adjusted to them. When you lower your hand, you can see that there’s several people ready to shoot you, and what looks like hundreds of people ready to back them up. The lights are coming from the train right in front of you.
“My name is (Y/n) Rosecelli, I’m here to speak to whoever is in charge, face to face.” you move forward, but stop a little bit after that, not wanting to push your limits.
Someone appears on the top of the train, an automatic rifle in his hands, “You shouldn’t be in here.”
You drop the dress down now, “No, I shouldn’t. This place is unfathomably filthy, and I can’t imagine how hard it is to breathe the air in here. What’s your name?”
“Jovian.”
“You know why I’m here, right?” you ask, crossing your arms, your eyes wandering over all the people waiting to see what happens.
“It’s pretty obvious, which is why I should let you know it’s not going to work, and you should leave while you can.” he tells you, “Or I’ll just make an example of you, just like how we did with Katniss.”
“Except Katniss is still alive in District Thirteen, you didn’t actually kill her.” you tell him, “Healthy as a horse, she was up on her feet the same day, ready to come right back here and give you guys a second chance.”
They won’t know you’re lying.
“We should’ve gone for her head.”
You ignore that, “There’s a big difference between Katniss and I, though. Katniss grew up in the poorest part of twelve, and I grew up in what was arguable once the richest parts of District Two. And then I won the games and got more money than I knew what to do with, and she didn’t have any time to get to realize her luxury.
“Because of this, she’ll never understand what you’ll have to sacrifice if you do take part in the fight. You’re putting everything up for a gamble. Your house, your clothes, furniture, a family. And you’d have to do it without knowing the outcome of a rebellion.”
Jovian nods slowly, “You get it.”
“Of course I do, I was once a Capitol pet too, and then Snow ended up killing my family, and then my friends on top of that.” you motion with your hand, “And I saw the type of people that we were supporting all this time. They’re nothing worth supporting, Jovian. I can promise you that.”
Jovian shakes his head, “What if you lose, huh? The district is already in deep shit because half of us are rebels, what if there’s a chance that the people who don’t fight with you, get rewarded?”
You snort, “You think he’s writing down names? You think he gives a shit if some of you were helping, and the others weren’t? All he’s going to see is that District Two had tried to help the rebels, and suddenly we’re all fucked. So why not give in? You know what will happen if there are no more hunger games, no more districts, no more districts versus the Capitol bullshit?
“You’d be able to live wherever you want--the Capitol, here, any of the other districts, places that were off limits, maybe even in some of the arenas that had gone untouched. You would work if you want to, and have a million kids without worrying about teaching them how to fight.
“There would be no more worries, Jovian. You’d still get to live the same, but it would be that much more freedom. And even if you wouldn’t want to live in any of those other places, you’d be able to visit them whenever you want. Take a vacation to the Capitol and come home to a sturdy house. And for anyone who hasn't found their soulmate because they exist in a different district, you’d have a greater chance of finding them.”
The silence that fills the tunnel is surprisingly calm, it isn’t as tense as you thought it would be. Jovian is obviously thinking all of this through.
“But we can’t win this without District Two. If we get those warehouses pumping out weapons, we’ll win this, guaranteed. It’ll be difficult, as all wars are, but we’ll win for once. We’ll get the justice we deserve, Snow will pay for all the shit he’s done.” you insist, “If you guys come with me now, there’s no hard feelings.
“There’s food, water, clothes, medicine. All you’d have to do is come with us now, and we’ll get you cleaned up, one at a time.”
Jovian looks down at you, “And you can promise us this?”
You look behind you, straight at one of the guards, “Get Paylor to confirm this.”
It takes a moment, but when her voice comes over the tunnel, echoing, saying all of what you said is true, you can’t help but to give a hopeful look to Jovian.
He takes in a deep breath, “Okay.”
“That’s just you, though.” you look to all the others, past the lights, “How about you guys? Are you willing to fight?”
“Will you be fighting with us?” someone yells to you.
This question you weren’t expecting, but you find yourself nodding before you can catch it, “Every step of the way.”
“Then sign me up.” A girl starts coming forward, behind her trails a couple of kids, they come in a line, all holding hands. She walks right past you guys.
It takes a moment before others start breaking off in groups. Jovian gives you a look, “These are my people.”
“They’re our people now.” You correct him, “And they’re going to be safe. Pack the hurt into the train and get this baby moving out here.”
You turn around, heading towards the camera, “Is it still running?”
“Yes.”
You look straight into the camera lense, “Twenty-three kids have died every year for the past seventy-four years. That’s one thousand, seven hundred and one kids that have died in the hunger games. Nearly two thousand of your kids have gone into an arena, scared and alone.
“They wouldn’t know where their next meal would come from, they didn’t know if they would get sponsors or if they were worthy of them. They likely shivered and starved and were dehydrated down to their very last days. And while it was happening, all they could picture was their blue face in the night sky, signaling another fallen tribute.
“And you’re telling me, that now there’s a rebellion happening--one that will stop a cycle of heartless and meaningless murder--you’re not going to help? You’ll finally be able to have kids, and not worry about training them the moment that they’re born. No more staying up all night worrying that it’ll be your kid picked during the reaping.
“But we can’t get there if you don’t help.” You then lean a forward, “And Coriolanus, if you’re watching, I’d like to let you know that I found the scar you left on my face. You can mark me all you fucking want, but I haven’t done your bidding since I was sixteen. How’s this for calming down District Two?”
You stand up again, “For those of you who don’t know, my name is (Y/n) Rosecelli, I won the sixty-sixth hunger games when I was sixteen. I’m from District Two, and I have to admit that I have lived in luxury since the day I was born, and coming to terms with a rebellion that has ruined my whole lifestyle, isn’t easy.
“However, if I can see past all my greediness to realize that it’s unfair that I can live in luxury and others live in dirt, then you can too. There will be no more inequality, everyone will be able to live in a stable environment, and if you don’t want that, then you’re just as ill as Snow is.”
You turn to leave after that, hiking up the dress in the front so you don’t end up stepping on it and make a fool out of yourself in the process. It’s a couple of moments before the others are scrambling to follow.
“Are you really going to fight with us?” The girl asks.
“I said I would, didn’t I?”
She’s quiet for a moment, “You just don’t look like you’d been into that type of thing.”
You look at her, “Don’t be fooled by the dress and makeup. I’m a lot more than a pretty face.”
“We’ll have to get you fitted for clothing, then. You can’t march to the Capitol in a dress.”
You end the conversation, not saying anything else to her. What she said is obvious, you know that you’ll have to be dressed properly. Hell, you know what’s happening in the Capitol at the moment.
Nothing slips past you. You hear everything when it comes to secrets. You knew Johanna had been waterboarded because she failed some sort of swimming test, nearly took down a couple of people during her panic. And you knew that her and Blight were a little more than friends too.
Just like how you know that the Capitol is turning into a whole trap. Snow is planting these pods—as Beetee called them—that are near impossible to keep track of. Snow is pulling in the Capitol citizens closer, allowing him to plant more pods. Hundreds of them, every single day.
Which means that if you go out there with the other volunteers, there’s a good chance of a million things happening to you. You can’t even think of what the gamemakers would put into the streets of the Capitol. All you know is that it can’t be good.
They might as well throw in every single project that they’ve ever created since they won’t be able to use it against you all in the future. And in that case, you might not want to be in the streets of the Capitol after all.
Right when you leave the train station, there’s a giant dumpster waiting for the people leaving the tunnel. They’re forced to give up their weapons so that they can pass into the team of medics that are waiting. As you get closer, you’re able to see that there’s no struggle. Most give up their weapons without a fight, but some are a little hesitant to do so.
You and the camera crew pass by it easily, none of you are holding a significant weapon, and if you are, you’re all rebels anyway. They’re not worried about you guys turning on them, it’s more like the newly rebels that are just coming out of the tunnel.
Past all the disarming, is the group of medics that wait for everyone who makes it past the tunnel. It takes a bit for you and the camera crew to get through the dense crowd that only gets bigger. Just before you break the last line of people, you can hear the train’s horn, warning everyone that it’s coming.
Then, you get through.
Waiting on the other side of the crowd is Lyme, with a particularly impressed look on her face.
“Maybe we should have sent you in, initially.” Lyme says, “You did it effortlessly.”
“If any of you had bothered to tell me before sending Katniss in, I would have told you it was a bad idea.” You take a look behind you, “And by the way, this is a perfect example of what you should do when it comes to the Capitol citizens.”
“Want to be put in charge of that?” Lyme offers.
Your head whips towards her, “I will not play devil's advocate for them. That’s your fucking problem to sort.”
“It was just an offer.” Lyme says, but you’re already leaving towards the justice building again. Lyme’s quite taller than you, so it takes basically no effort when it comes to catching up with you, “While you were gone, Coin had someone flown in.”
You can’t help but let out a snort, “Oh, whoever should that be?”
After what you said to Coin, it’s no surprise to you. She would pull some bullshit like this to make you angry. It’s just her little form of payback.
“He’s waiting at your house.”
You look at her, “You had him escorted to my house?”
“He wouldn’t shut up about it. Gave him basic instructions to get to victor’s village, and then told him yours is the only one that hasn’t been touched.”
“Speaking of which, why is that?” you fix a curl that’s fallen into your face.
“Honestly, no clue.” Lyme says, “Good luck with Finnick.”
“Right.”
Lyme and the camera crew break off when you reach the justice building. From there, one single person brings you as far as they’re allowed to go into the town part of District Two, and then they head back to where they had been standing before you stumbled along.
You’re nearly home when your feet start to ache from the heels. And if it weren’t for the fact that the dirt is mixed in with glass, you might have taken the heels right off and walked barefoot the rest of the way. Before the rebellion, you definitely would have done that. Regardless of how people would feel about it.
Victor’s village still looks shitty, there’s not much to expect from it in the first place. It’s not like it’s going to have changed in the past hour or two. Although, you thought that you might find Finnick poking around in the abandoned, charcoal black houses.
Through the first arch and into the second reveals your perfect house. The door is shut--so it looks like Finnick knows his manners--and you don’t waste time going inside.
Swinging the door open, you make a point to slam it shut when you get inside. You don’t even move from the doorway before you’re tearing the heels off your feet, massaging them one at a time. Then, you head upstairs to your room.
If Finnick wants to speak, Finnick can come and find you. He invited himself to District Two, he was able to find your house, he’ll be able to find you.
Or rather, the other way around.
Finnick’s lounging on your bed when you walk in. In his hand he holds a book with your face on it. You can’t help but roll your eyes--that book was forced on you by Snow. He thought it was a good idea to draw in more attraction to you. And unfortunately it worked, and after that, you spent a couple more weeks than you were meant to, inside of the Capitol.
Of course, it ran short when everyone heard about your sour attitude, no matter what time of the day it was. People revoked their… reservations, and you were forced to go home.
“Welcome.” you say bitterly, opening the wardrobe doors and tossing your shoes inside, then you unzip the dress from the back with little to no problem.
“So the friendliness didn’t last long.” Finnick sounds amused, but when you turn to look over your shoulder, you can see that it’s not how he’s feeling. There’s a hint of a scowl on his face, maybe some touch of annoyance.
“Thank god.” you hang the dress up, then you close the wardrobe door and move onto the bathroom.
You tear off everything that you wouldn’t normally wear. The bracelets, earrings, rings. The only thing you leave is the necklace Tanith gave you, otherwise it’s all gone. And as soon as you get into the bathroom, it’s tossed into the jewelry drawer, which is absolute hellfire to sift through.
Finnick follows you to the bathroom, and watches as you remove the makeup, unphased by the fact that you’re half naked again, “Did you actually mean any of it?”
You pause for a moment, “Mean what? What I said to Johanna? Every word, she fucking asked for it. Antagonizing me and all that, she should have seen it coming.”
“The apology.” Finnick clarifies.
“I meant that, yes.” there’s no hesitation.
“That’s all I wanted to know.” he turns and leaves the bathroom.
“So now what?” you call, “You’re going back to District Thirteen?”
Finnick laughs, “Dream on.”
You roll your eyes, “It was worth a shot.”
“Your house smells like shit, by the way.”
“It’s the kitchen, feel free to clean it out if it bothers you that much. I just figured that this house would be blown to bits the second Snow gets a chance because of what I said.”
“Speaking of which.” Finnick comes back, he’s got some clothes for you hanging over his arm, “The front lines?”
You scowl at him a little bit, “Did anyone ever tell you it’s rude to go through someone’s clothes? And yes, the front lines.”
Regardless, you pull on the shorts and shirt after tossing the makeup wipes away. You unpin your hair, letting it all fall into place unnaturally, which causes you to just pull it right back up into a ponytail anyway to keep it out of your face.
“I was hoping you wouldn’t say that.”
You side-eye him, “Let me guess, you’re coming along?”
Finnick smiles, “You know me better than I thought.”
“No, you just have a thing for following me around, so I figured. Just like how Lyme didn’t even have to say your name, and I knew you came.” you grin a little, “How was the party, by the way?”
“Surprisingly boring without you there.”
“You’re saying that I’m entertainment?” you ask.
“The best.” Finnick smiles.
92 notes
·
View notes
Belamour - Chapter Eight (f.o)
summary: they say the odds tend to favor those who need them. well, they were wrong.
warnings; swearing
wc; 7.8k
NOTES: i give reader a last name to fit the world.
–
“Okay, but you have to expand on that.” Allio says, motioning to Trink and Lennox while staring directly at you. There’s a look on his face that says ‘can you believe them?’ and honestly, you can’t. They’re so vague, it’s like they want you two to keep on asking questions.
“I don’t think we do.” Lennox says, “In fact, I think the conversation should stop here.”
“Okay.” Trink snorts, “You’re just mad that I’ve brought it up again.”
Lennox doesn’t even deny what she’s saying, nodding right along with raised eyebrows. He clearly wants her to shut up, but Trink has no intention of actually doing that. So, she pauses from sharpening her knife for a moment, and looks dead at you and Allio. This makes Lennox roll his eyes.
“I give up.” he mutters.
“Good.” Trink doesn’t even look sorry, “Here’s how things actually went down--”
“It’s the wrong version of the story!”
“I thought you were giving up.” you say, which causes you all to start laughing.
Lennox’s face is a light shade of red, but he crosses his arms, and then motions for Trink to start. Trink gives him a white smile, and turns back to you guys.
You continue organizing everything inside of your backpack, not really wanting to have things be a mess on the inside. You and Trink will be sharing this bag, and Allio and Lennox will be sharing the other. Just so you all aren’t carrying your own separate things.
As soon as you and Allio are done, you’ll all be heading off and into the woods for a few days. This, of course, leaves the cornucopia up for grabs, but since you all weren’t able to do this properly on the first day, you decided to make up for it. On the way into the forest, you’ll stop at the pond for a quick refresh of water and then you’ll be walking the rest of the day.
The chances of you guys catching anyone is slim. The island looks huge, and since none of you have experience out here, it’s going to be a while before you become accustomed to the land. And it’s a little worrying that you’ve spent several days inside of the cornucopia. It just means that the other tributes know what they’re doing out there.
There’s only twelve tributes left in the games. The four careers--you guys--Finnick, Thyme, Blaire, and five others. You think one of them is Mac, from District Seven, and you’re not too surprised that he’s survived this long. He scored fairly high, but he’s not career material at all--and neither are you, you think. Out of all the districts, you think that only three of them have two tributes left in the games.
District One is Lennox and Trink, and they’re very obviously still alive. You’re alive, and you don’t remember seeing Finnick in the sky at all. So there’s another batch, and you think, you’re not entirely sure, that District Eight is the third district. You hope that you’re remembering that correctly.
Although, you’re not sure if it actually matters how many districts still have two tributes. In fact, you think that the count of the amount of tributes that are still alive in total is the important number. Eleven people alive, not counting yourself. The games are already halfway over, and with how the death’s have been going, you think that it’ll be over in no time.
Trink clears her throat, letting you three know that she’s about to begin her story, “I’m a senior, and so is Lennox. And back home, we’re semi-popular because we play sports together after school, and it’s why I look like this.”
Alarms start ringing in your head, because there is no way that she’s that strong and buff looking just because she’s playing a couple of sports throughout high school. With arm muscle like that, she’s had to have been lifting weights or something like that. Better yet, the best explanation for why she’s obviously so beefed up, is because of the private training academies there are in the career districts.
As far as you know, there is none in Four. Then again, you live in such bad poverty that you wouldn’t ever qualify for a place like that. Either you have to pay to get in, or you have to take a portion of your victory royalties and pay them off to the place. In all honesty, you’re not sure if it’s worth it at that point.
Of course, being able to know how to fight and defend yourself and having so much confidence in winning is a nice mindset. Makes you prepared, blocks out all that hesitation and panic that happens most of the time. But on the other hand, it’s plain cheating.
Districts One and Two have it going on, and everyone knows that. Even the Capitol knows that there’s something suspicious going on inside of the districts, they just do nothing about it. Why? Because they’re favorites. They make the stuff that the Capitol likes the best. Which is jewelry and all that other bullshit.
For Trink try to pass it off as school activities is dumb. Everyone knows what’s going on. You just have a feeling she just doesn’t want to admit it out loud. After that, it’ll be confirmed and President Snow might just have to take actual action in shutting it down. Then again, he doesn’t seem like he would do that.
Those districts are the least resistant and most compliant with what the Capitol demands. Anything that the citizens want, they’ll deliver. Because it’s keeping them rich and on top of it. Keeps their victor’s villages plentiful and their poverty rates down. Nasty ass cheaters.
“Lennox had this thing with a girl going on. He wouldn’t admit it to anyone, not even to me. But I’m smarter than that and caught on pretty quickly.” She says.
“Right.” Lennox says, there’s no intention for him to keep quiet, “That’s why you were so shocked when I finally told you.”
“I’m a great actress, what can I say?”
Lennox is laughing, “Bullshit! You’re a terrible actress. Fuck that story, do you two want to hear the time she was recruited for the school play?”
Trink’s eyes have narrowed dangerously and she’s pointing her finger in Lennox’s direction, “You shut up.”
“Then you shut up.”
“Lennox and the girl went into an empty classroom one day during lunch--”
“Shut up!” Lennox shouts.
Allio’s laughing, you’re zipping up the backpack with a smile, and Trink is having a hard time getting out the words, “It was a connecting classroom. There was a door to get to the classroom behind it for whatever reason.”
Lennox’s wiping his face, “No--”
“And in the connected classroom, was an english class taking a quiz, and the teacher in that room is so damn mean. Lennox and the girl start going at it, and I mean they’re getting into it--”
“Okay!” you laugh, “I don’t need the details.”
“The girl moaned his name once, and the entire class on the other side heard them. But no, Lennox and--what was her name?” Trink turns and looks at Lennox.
“I’m not telling you.”
“It starts with something fancy…” she’s snapping her fingers, a look of realization comes over her face and she’s looking smug, “Yeona.”
“Oh fuck off.”
“Shut up for a second. Lennox and Yeona didn’t realize their mistake, even after there was giggling on the other side of the wall. Yeona moaned again, and that’s when the teacher on the other side had enough. One of my friends in the class at the time had sworn that they all thought it was teenage boys.
“But Miss whatever her name is, slams the door open and they’re caught red-fucking-handed. Butt naked--”
“Not butt naked!” Lennox is shouting, “Neither of us were naked!”
“Her shorts were pulled down to her thighs, Lennox. And your fingers were in unholy places. Maybe you weren’t butt naked, but she sure as hell was.” Trink moves her hair out of her face with her pinky nail, “Anyway, the teacher gave them both months of detention, and Lennox still has a lot of hours to make up. And it spread all around the school. And Yeona and Lennox are supposed to be grounded as hell.”
“I warned you.” Lennox says, “I’ll tell them about the school play.”
“Oh no, you won’t.” Trink is pushing herself to her feet, “Open your mouth and it’ll be full of sand.
You have a feeling that it’s not an empty threat, with how one hand that’s behind her back is full of sand, with a steady stream slipping between her fingers. Lennox doesn’t seem focused on her hands, more of the fact that he’s getting a chance to push her buttons.
“It was middle school, and she had bangs that were super fucking--”
His mouth is open wide, and she takes her chance. She wasn’t lying at all, she grabs a fistfull of Lennox’s brown hair and with the other hand, slaps the sand into his mouth. His eyes widen, and she lets go of him. He starts coughing, sand blowing out of his mouth and flying onto Allio.
“Dude!” Allio complains, face twisted.
Lennox is leaving the cornucopia, spitting out chunks of sand. Every time he bites down, you can hear crunching, which makes you cringe and gag. You can’t imagine the amount of bacteria in the sand, and how gross and dry it tastes.
“Bitch!” He coughs out, Trink looks satisfied and she’s dusting off her hands.
“Are we ready to go?” Allio asks.
You get to your feet, hoisting the backpack up and offering it to Trink. She takes it without a single complaint. After it’s around her shoulders, she picks up her sword and the rest of you follow suit, with the exception of Lennox. He’s now using water as mouthwash to clean out the sand.
“It’s stuck in my teeth.”
“Stop chewing.” Allio says.
“Thanks, genius.”
After that, the trip into the woods is fairly quiet. As usual, it’s about an hour’s walk to the pond. On the way, you four are sharing stories. Allio, Lennox and Trink share the most, since they seem to have a lot and are more enthusiastic than you are. You ask questions to keep them talking, but that’s about it.
They talk mostly about their family. Trink is an only child, so she has only her parents to worry about. She claims that they’re not very strict because they’re extremely proud of her and how far she’s come. She says that they deserve a nice place to live, and can do more than just retire with the victor royalties.
“We’d be able to get my mom a nice studio, a different room for each of her hobbies, and my dad will finally have a bigger desk for when he comes home. I can already picture what my room will look like.” She says, bouncing on her toes.
A room for each of her parents' hobbies? A whole office? You bite your tongue even though you want to tell her how lucky they’ve been. You’ve got a total of three bedrooms and one bathroom. One of the rooms is a graveyard, and the other two are shared between two people.
You wouldn’t necessarily say it’s cramped, because you’re lucky that you have a room away from your brothers in the first place, but you still don’t have your own space. You’re sharing it with Alyssum, and the room is the size of that walk-in closet back in the Capitol. Even then, that closet was huge.
And it’s not like you can even afford that place, even with both of your brother’s working overtime most nights. In all honesty, you remember the nights after you put Alyssum to bed, and you three gathered at the table to talk about the possibility of either selling the house to downgrade, or to sell your dead parent’s expensive jewelry that took them years to collect.
Most of them being heirlooms, others being gifted to them. All of them holding some sort of sentimental value that sparked the question of whether or not it would be morally right. In the end, you’ve never sold anything but you’ve cut it close plenty of times.
If you were to win, you’d get your own room, with brand new clothes and Alyssum would get all sorts of developmental toys. Reed and Mox would finally get their own rooms, which they’ve never had in their lives. Even before you were born and the third bedroom was empty, they had no choice but to share a room.
You’ll have a secure place to live, you wouldn't have to worry about rent anymore, you’d always have good food on the table, and would be able to afford the expensive things that Allio, Trink and Lennox can already get without the victor royalties. You bet that they’ve never had to go hungry some nights.
The conversation is sour on your part, and you slowly stop asking questions and instead find a particular interest in the sleeve of your jacket. They don’t seem to notice, continuously trading stories between each other. In what feels like forever, you’ve finally reached the pond and you’re loading up on water.
It’s a brief moment there, none of you need to stop yet. The sun is about to be in the middle of the sky, it’s still well before noon. You pick your things back up, and take the backpack from Trink, agreeing on trading it every other hour. After that, you’re right back to walking.
You’re all basically on the same path you took during the first day to get to where you’d stayed the night at. Had you all kept moving, you’re sure that Eytelle would still be alive and you’d be more used to the woods. Now, you’re not, and you’re beginning to see how many obstacles are poised throughout the trees.
The greenery looks suspicious, so you keep away from any leaves that vaguely remind you of poison ivy. You don’t think that the gamemakers would put something like that out here, especially not in what’s supposed to be a tropical-esk island. The cliffs that the pond was semi-hidden in, eventually dies out to a hill.
The only real cliff on this island is the big one that soars above all the trees, and can be seen from anywhere on the island. You wonder what’s on the other side of them, will it be ground or water? And what sick twist will be laying at the bottom? It could be a number of things, and all you hope is that you don’t get caught in it.
Unfortunately, the conversation doesn’t stay on them. Trink notices that you haven’t offered up any sort of information, and it immediately because of a blizzard of questions that you can hardly keep up with.
“What’s it like in Four?” Lennox asks.
“Busy.” you say, “And huge. My prep team said that we smell like fish, sweat and salt water, if that helps any.”
“What’s your family like?” Trink asks.
Yes, back to the family topic. Trink is an only child, Lennox has a younger brother, and Allio has a big family, similar to yours. He has an older sister and three younger brothers. And he even offered up information about Eytelle too, she has a younger brother and sister.
“Two older brothers and a younger sister.” you say, you feel vulnerable. Giving out information like this gives them a chance to use it against you somehow.
“Parents?” Allio asks.
You grit your teeth, “Dead.”
You’ve got their attention now, especially Allio. You know the question is coming before it even forms on his tongue, “How?”
He’s sadistic. Out of the four of you, you think that you’re the most dangerous kill-wise, but Allio is… demented. Asking questions on how people died and what it looked like. He might not have killed anyone, but that doesn’t mean he didn’t just sit around and watch and enjoyed it.
“Childbirth and drowning.”
“I thought you guys were supposed to be good swimmers.” Allio remarks, there’s a smug look on his face. Trink and Lennox are beginning to look uncomfortable.
“We are.” you look at him, pressing your lips together. “And a good example of that is the girl from Twelve.” the look on his face is fading. That’s right, you might have convinced them that you didn’t kill her, but you swam out of the depths of the pond and you’d do it again, “If you don’t believe me, we can go back to the pond and test the theory.”
There’s no answer.
“That’s what I thought.” you snap, looking back down at your sword.
You wonder if they’d be upset if you made a jump at Allio. He’s getting on everyone’s nerves, not just yours. This morning might have been full of high spirits, but he nearly killed Lennox just because Lennox tried to wake him up. There’s tension building, and it’s like a rubber band. It’s going to snap right back in your faces if you don’t stop it in time.
Hmm.
“Got any high school stories?” Trink finally asks, and you take the opportunity to launch into a story that lasts around thirty minutes.
Allio is quiet, stone-faced and sour looking. But the other two are in a light mood and laugh along at the right times and ask questions to keep it going. By the time you’ve finished the story, they’re begging for another. Lennox says that it’s funny, but not nearly as good as the Trink and the play story.
This time, Trink doesn’t shut it down because ‘he’s a fucking moron, might as well let him explain it badly’. And Lennox really does try his best to explain everything, but what’s funnier is watching and listening to Trink mock him and make faces. She’ll ‘uh huh’ and ‘right’ at the perfect moments, deadpanning and rolling her eyes.
By the time the sun is well, well past noon, Allio seems to be lightening up again. Trink begins to complain that her feet hurt, and it’s reasonable since you’ve all been walking for hours. You take a break at some tree beneath the shade, trink a minimal amount of water and hope that there will be another pond or stream somewhere close.
As soon as your feet stop aching, you’re back on your feet for a brief moment of time. It’s so short because of how fast the sun is setting. You all agree that it has to be the gamemakers, and decide to try and find a place to stay for the night. It’s just meaningless wandering for a while, until Trink spots something through the trees.
“Is that a fucking house?” Lennox asks, and then the four of you are running up to it.
Without a warning, he’s kicking down the door, and you’re all squinting into the shack. There’s no one inside, and it doesn’t even look like anyone has stayed here either. It’s a good sign, you don’t have to sit outside for the night. The moment that you’re all shutting the door, and Lennox is sitting in front of it to keep it shut, you’re growing tired.
So, quickly you eat the squirrel and a few crackers with the others. There had been no deaths today, so there’s no recap to worry about, and you’re all in the clear to sleep. You’re sure that you won’t need your jacket to sleep tonight, but there’s wind whistling through the cracks in the window pane, and you decide that you’d rather be hot than cold.
You use your arm as a pillow, hand on your knife at all times. The moment you begin to drift off, you can hear the light patter on rain on the wooden roof. Tomorrow will be wet, and you’re glad that you didn’t leave the jacket at the cornucopia after all. And because the noise of the rain is so mesmerizing, you’re falling asleep quickly.
Again, in the morning, it’s clear that Allio isn’t a morning person. Lennox had switched out in the middle of the night with him, and he clearly wasn’t happy about it. You can still hear the howl of the wind, which makes you all hesitate and debate on whether or not you should go out there.
You have no problem with the wind and rain, it’s whether or not it’s a tropical storm that has you concerned. You’ve been through plenty of rain storms back home, in fact, you think you might thrive in the rain. And you’re sure that Finnick is beginning to realize this too.
But despite this, the others decide to stay inside the shack. Lennox remarks that it’s a good thing none of you had actually stayed at the cornucopia, otherwise you’d be drenched and freezing. So, Lennox and Allio go right back to sleep and you’re left to stay awake with Trink.
“How long do you think that the storm will last?” she asks, picking at the wooden floorboards.
You look at the window. It’s dirty on the inside, already making it hard to see through, but with the rain constantly pounding on the other side, it makes it that much harder. You tilt your head, purse your lips as you try to think. The sky doesn’t look that dark from as much as you can tell, but that doesn’t really mean anything.
And you’re on an island, and the rain might be gamemaker-engineered. Could mean a number of things. It could last for days, and at that point, you’d all be flushed out and be shit out of luck when it comes to hunting animals and fishing, just fueling starvation. But on the other hand, it could all be some scheme for a fight.
“Depends on the circumstances.” you close your eyes, leaning your head up against the wall, “A load of things could be going on out there. I’d say that if it’s the gamemakers that’s doing this, it’ll hopefully be done in a day or two. Which just means that we should ration out the rabbit, crackers and other stuff carefully.”
“I’ll keep that in mind when I’m eating.” she says, you open your eyes to see she’s got a small, teasing smile on her face.
The two of you fall into silence, and eventually you’re being dragged under again. You’re not all that surprised, sleeping in the sand might feel like a perfect bed, with how you shaped the sand. But it’s not exactly comfortable, and you’d much rather have something like the wooden floor boards. Even if they’re hard.
You’re tired. There’s rain on the house, and you can make the whistling of the wind sound like a song. Your last thought before you fall asleep is how you think that it’s a perfect time to be well-rested.
The next time you wake up, it’s to your boot being nudged. Your fingers fly across the floorboards and to your knife in the same instance that you open your eyes. It’s the others, the rabbit is displayed in front of them, clearly they’re ready to eat. You look at the window, rubbing the sleep from your eyes. The storm has definitely calmed down.
“Did I miss anything?” you ask, scooting towards them and sitting up.
“Don’t know. It was really loud out there for a while.” Allio says, you’re fairly surprised that he’s talking to you.
“It’s barely a drizzle out there. We’re going to eat and then take a look into the sky to see if anyone’s died.” Trink says.
Of course, you slept the day away in the shack. You can’t be upset at it, and you have a feeling that tonight will be your turn to stand guard. You go ahead and help the others distribute most of the rabbit fairly, and when you’re still hungry, you eat a cracker and drink some water and insist that you won’t eat anymore.
Since you’re all well-rested, you all play some stupid game to pass the time. When Lennox starts yawning, they call it a night. You take the shift, and sit against where you had been sleeping before, which is on the far side of the room, away from the door. You listen as they all start to settle down, and their breathing becomes more spaced out.
And then you have the urge to pee, and manage to remember that you all were supposed to watch the sky. You tuck the knife into your belt and take your sword with you, zipping up the jacket to your chin and throwing the hood over your head. When you step out of the shack, you’re extremely quiet with how you shut the door, in order not to wake them.
It’s definitely not that late into the night, and it’s still raining lightly. You lean against the sword, staring through the tree leaves, into the sky. It’s a long silence, and you begin to believe that maybe you all had missed it after all. And then the Capitol symbol is appearing in the sky, and the anthem is starting.
Finnick and Blaire are still alive, their faces don’t appear in the sky. But the girl from Six appears, and no one follows after her. Such a big storm for one little person? You hope the gamemakers don’t have some underlying plan going on.
You take care of your business, and slip right back into the shack undetected. After shutting the door and making sure that it won’t be coming loose, you take a seat in your space, and spend the rest of the night there. Sometime during the middle of the night, you’ve pulled out the rope that’s buried deep into the backpack, and spend mindless time tying it and untying it in various knots.
Trink is the first to wake when the sun rises, since the sun rays are landing on her face. You offer to switch spaces with her, but instead she says that she’ll take the small amount of time before the others awake. Now, it’s your turn to take a small nap. It doesn’t last more than a couple of hours, which is fine. A power nap here and there won’t hurt.
When you’re all ready to go, you go right back into the woods. The grass and leaves on the ground are still slippery because of the rain, but there’s a comforting smell coming from the plants. There’s no complaints between you all, and for hours, it’s just silence between you all with the occasional chatter.
You’re all just mostly thirsty, wanting to find a pond or something with water. The deeper you wander into the trees, the more you realize that there’s going to be absolutely nothing. You can’t hear rushing water, and you’re too far away from the beach to go and drink salt water.
You don’t bother to break this news to the group, figuring that they’ve come to this conclusion, themselves. In the meantime, you continue to drink your water in measured time and hope that this isn’t making it worse on you. Allio says that you all should have set out some tarp and collected rain water, but it was quickly dismissed by Trink.
The water likely wouldn’t have been good to drink, and the idea really went to shit when he said that you could’ve used whatever came off the roof of the shack. Allio’s back in a sour mood after that, muttering, “Why am I always the bad guy?”
You bite your tongue, not wanting to tell him that he’s typically the one to start fights between you all. And just because someone cancels out his idea, doesn’t mean that it was a direct attack to him. You have a feeling that he gets the most attention back home, which is a hard transition.
It’s about another hour of wandering before it begins to dawn on you all for real. The arena has become hotter, the sun beats down on your backs, and at this point sitting in the shade is doing nothing. Lennox tells you that he’s out of water, and after a very small sip of yours, you give him the rest.
And then it’s done for Trink and Allio.
“How far back to the shack?” you ask, wiping the sweat from your forehead. You almost wish that you could take off the shirt and get away with it, but there’s no doubt that your brother’s back home will be losing their shit.
Then again, it’s for survival. You don’t want to drop in some useless heap on the ground because of heat stroke. Honestly, you’ve always hated the heat. Spring time is the best in District Four, because it’s not too hot and it’s not too cold, either. You begin to lose interest during the summer because that’s when you begin to sweat more, and the house feels awful to sit inside of.
No air conditioning, which makes for days at the beach to try and cool yourself off, only then do you get sunburns and have to spend the days inside, anyway. It’s miserable, trying to get away from the heat. When you were a kid, your mother used to give you and your brothers a fair chunk of change to go down to the ice cream parlor on heatwave days. You’d get to buy ice cream in exchange for a cold, air conditioned building. And Caspian and Calandra would always join you three.
And you wouldn’t be kicked out for hours, when the sun would finally be setting. Thank the owners, and then you’re all going back to the house. By that time, mom would have dinner ready and it would always be something naturally cold to ease the hot feeling you’d all have.
It’s the same thing for winter time, except with cold instead of the heat.
“Hours.” Lennox says, Trink is fanning herself with some large plant leaves, and it doesn’t look like it’s helping much.
Allio is fairly unbothered, he’s got this smug look on his face, “It’s not even that hot.”
“Shut up.” Lennox snaps, “It’s at least a hundred degrees in here.”
“And I’ve felt worse.”
Trink glares at him, “Shut up.”
You lean your head back against the tree, eyes closed. In no way are you tired, there’s just a pounding headache going on in your head. Your mouth is dry, and this is just the beginning of the three day process of dehydration.
Someone breathes in like they’re getting ready to talk, but they’re cut off by a chiming. Your eyes open, you lean forward to look out to see where it’s coming from. Lennox is on his feet, arms outstretched towards the gift from sponsors. The gift is fairly big, and you recognize it as a feast almost immediately.
Lennox sets it down in the middle of you all, popping open the lid. And immediately, you can smell all the delicious food inside, none of them actually have steam coming up. Cold food. And the bottles of water that have condensation running down them.
“Here.” Lennox passes off a piece of paper to you, “Read it.”
He begins to divide the food evenly, and it looks like cold cut sandwiches and water. You can’t see what’s under them just yet, but you know there’s more. There’s always several layers to a feast sponsor gift like this. And it really would be stupid to eat it all at once, and you think they know that too.
You look down at the paper, reading over it the first time around. This was a conjoined gift, from multiple mentors and sponsors, “‘A gift from us to you. Happy Hunger Games, signed Gloss, Enobaria and Anchor’.” You lay the paper aside, you recognize all three of the names.
It’s funny, since they’re all technically in order of each other. Anchor won before Enobaria, and Gloss won the year after Enobaria. And then after Gloss would be Cashmere, his own sister. This year will be the decider of whether or not it’ll be another District One or Two win, or a Four.
“Thank you.” you say, and the other’s chime in as well.
Trink and Lennox work together to split two sandwiches in half to make four. And then pawn them off to you and Allio. You’re free to take a cold water bottle for yourself, beneath the sandwiches you can see all sorts of fruits and vegetables that are undoubtedly fresh.
Obviously your mentors were trying to keep the foods as cold as possible to try and combat the heat. You can appreciate that, you feel like Anchor and Enobaria have the best idea of what it’s like to exist in heat. You sip on your water every now and then, not wanting to drink it all up. In no time, the sandwich is gone, though.
Even with all the nice food and cold water, the arena is still hot. You agree to give yourselves some more time before getting up and going. Lennox shuts the lid on the gift before Allio can reach over and grab more, and passes it off to you and Trink to put in your backpack because he thinks you guys have the most room.
You share a look with Trink, because that’s obviously not the reason. You go ahead and find space for it in your backpack anyway. Wanting to keep the water from your water bottle cold, you dump the remaining water into the metal thermos in hopes that it’ll work. The others think that it’s smart, and do the same thing.
With no garbage can around, you throw your water bottle at Lennox as a joke. He gives you a dangerous look before throwing his right back at you. It doesn’t hurt much, especially when it’s the bottom that hits your forehead. As you go through this, Trink says that she can juggle, and suddenly you’re giving up your bottles to watch her try.
It’s not the best, but she wasn’t much of a liar.
“If circuses still existed, you’d be the perfect act.” Allio says.
You can see the anger that flashes through Trink’s eyes. Before Lennox can lean over and restrain her, she’s launched across the picnic that you’ve set up, hands wrapped around Allio’s throat. You and Lennox get to your feet in a scramble, not liking the fight that’s going on.
Grabbing a hold of Trink’s shoulder, you place your foot on Allio’s chest to keep him down while you yank her off. With the help of Lennox, the two of you get Trink off of him.
“Get the fuck off of me!” Allio huffs, “Fucking bitch.”
He pushes your leg off of him, which causes you to stumble and fall into the grass. Trink is brushing the dirt off of her jeans, but she’s glaring at Allio, “Try me.”
“I did.”
She stands up again, and Lennox is placing himself between her and Allio, “Take a breather, please.”
“Beat the fuck out of him for me.” she snaps, and then swipes her sword on her way out.
It’s just you, Lennox and Allio still beneath the shade. Once again, you get to your feet, feeling a little pissed off yourself. He had no right to push you like that, not after you basically saved his life with Lennox. He should be thanking you, but instead his face is red and he looks like he’s going to attack one of you.
“Chill out.” Lennox says, “Seriously.”
“It was a fucking joke. Guess the bitch doesn’t know how to take one.”
“Or you don’t know how to read a room.” you suggest.
His eyes turn to you, “Yeah, I don’t know how to read a room. Fuck off, you’re fifteen, you have no idea what you’re doing. You’re not even going to win.”
“Watch your fucking mouth. You’ve got two people that don’t like you. If I were you, I’d start walking.”
Allio is puffing up, Lennox slaps his hand on Allio’s chest, keeping him from going at you, “Go back to the cornucopia or chill out.”
He doesn’t say anything else, you sweep up the backpack and pull it over your shoulders. Lennox does the same with the other backpack, and after getting your weapons, you’re alright back to walking. Lennox says that you guys should take a wide circle and go back to the cornucopia, since it’s clear that the forest is dense and you haven’t come across anyone so far.
You walk beside Trink, who's on the far left, and Lennox walks with Allio, who’s on the other side.
“He’s getting on my nerves.” she mutters.
“Mine too.”
She looks at you, “What did Lennox say to him after I left?”
“Told him to chill out, and I said a few things too. He wasn’t very happy.”
“I bet not. Hopefully that’s put him into his place.” Trink picks at her nails. Which is still covered in nail polish, just like yours.
Your nails have seen better days. There’s dirt beneath them, the polish is chipped in the corners. You can only imagine what they’ll look like in a few days. Better or worse? You’re just lucky there isn’t dried blood beneath them.
The heat begins to lessen up by the time the sun is setting. It still feels like it’s eighty degrees though, and you still slowly drink your water. Somehow, you all manage to circle back to the shack, which is still incredibly empty.
None of you are really hungry tonight, still mulling over what had happened earlier in the day. Allio tries to take the night shift, but the answer from all three of you is no. Lennox says that since he’s the one that’s most indifferent to the situation--Trink rolls her eyes--he’ll watch over all of you.
There is no rain on the shack tonight, instead the wind howls and acts like it’s going to break the wooden structure down. It makes you feel like you’re all on the verge of another storm, but you can’t see the gamemakers doing that so soon. It’s obvious that the rain and the heat was their making. They’re trying to break you guys.
It worked, for the most part. The four of you didn’t pass out from heatstroke, obviously but it did raise the irritation. You figured that would happen anyway, you’re sure that the fact that you haven’t run across anyone over the course of these days, haven’t helped at all.
Tonight, you don’t wear the jacket when you go to bed. You keep the backpack guarded behind you, and fall asleep with one arm through the hoop, and the other with a knife clutched in your hand.
When you wake, you figure out pretty quickly that you’re the first. Lennox definitely fell asleep at some time last night. You sit up, a quiet yawn coming from you, stretching your arms and setting down the knife. Your arm is still hooked around the backpack strap, and when you finally stretch the joint, it’s stiff.
You know almost immediately that you have to pee, but take the task of checking on the backpack first. You figure that it’s going to be fine, because there’s no reason for it not to be. But you find it unzipped, and when you pull back the fabric in a panic, the entire feast of food is missing.
The metal pot is gone, and so is the spare knife that you brought just in case you lost the first. And as far as you remember, none of the others brought a knife, and they know that you brought the spare. There’s only one person who’s been going at everyone lately, too.
You turn, eyes glared at Allio, who’s got his back to you and is still sleeping. You lean over, swiping his half-full water bottle and throwing it at the back of his head. He gasps, hand flying to the back of his head, “What the fuck?”
Lennox’s eyebrows draw in, awake now. He stretches his arms out in front of him and opens his eyes. Trink has turned over halfway, squinting and tired looking. Allio has sat up, and a staring contest has started between you two.
“That’s what I should be asking. Where the fuck is the food?”
That’s got everyone waking up.
“What the hell do you mean?” Lennox asks.
“The food is missing, all of it.” You pull the backpack around, and throw it so that everything spills out, making an incredible amount of noise and getting your point across, “Where is it?”
“Does it look like I have it?” Allio snaps.
Trink’s awake, she’s sitting up and reaching for the backpack that the boys were supposed to be carrying. Lennox passes it over to her, and she unzips and begins to go through it.
“You probably ate it all.”
“We don’t know that.” Lennox says, but he’s on the fence, you can tell with how his eyes keep shifting to Allio.
Trink clicks her tongue, and then slowly pulls out a container of grapes. All eyes are then turned on Allio, who’s turning a deep shade of red, “You planted that on me.”
“Why the fuck would I do that?”
“You said it yourself yesterday! Don’t play stupid.”
You lean forward, “With that logic, Trink should be suspect too, but she has no reason to steal. You do, filthy ass pig.”
His nostrils flare, “Listen--”
“No! You listen!” you grab the container of grapes, hurling it at Allio, “After the shit you’ve pulled in the last twenty-four hours, I have a good reason to believe this. And the fact that one of my knives is missing is weird too. And by the way, I’ve been asleep all night, I have no fucking clue about you.
“Honestly, you could have gotten up after Lennox fell asleep to rummage through the bag, eat all the fucking food and save the grapes for later.”
“One of your knives is missing?” Trink asks.
“Yeah, I brought a second one in case I lost the first. You guys know that.”
Lennox is nodding, face hard as he turns to Allio, “Empty out your pockets.”
“You can’t be serious!”
Trink’s zipping up the boy’s backpack, “Got something to hide? If you don’t have it, you shouldn’t be getting defensive.”
Allio sends a nasty glare your way, standing up from where he was sleeping only minutes ago. He plunges his hands into his pockets and turns them inside out, all of them. Even his jacket, which he turns the hood upside down for.
“She’s accusing me and doesn’t even have proof.” he snarls.
“The grapes aren’t good enough proof?” you ask.
He motions to Lennox, “He could have placed them in the backpack, did you think of that?”
“Except I didn’t.”
“You were up all night last night watching the door, you’re telling me you didn’t get a bit hungry?” Allio’s squinting at him.
Lennox moves the jacket that’s laying over his lap, revealing a packet of crackers that he had grabbed for himself. You’ve watched him go through it over the course of these days. And Allio, seeing the packet, turns an even darker shade.
“This is dog shit!” he finally yells, grabbing his sword.
You three almost have the same reaction, fingers reaching for your weapons. But Allio leaves the shack, slamming the door hard enough to make the building shudder. It leaves you all in silence, and it’s not long before Lennox is looking at you.
“Did you wake up at all last night?”
“No.” you shake your head, “I woke up with the strap still around my arm, and my knife near my other hand. If you could take a guess, what time did you fall asleep last night?”
“Early morning.” He’s shrugging, shaking his head lightly too, “the sky was beginning to lighten up, but there wasn’t a sunrise.”
“Did he look awake?” Trink asks.
“No, you all were out cold.”
You press your lips together, gathering all of the contents of the backpack, back inside, “What if someone came in last night?”
It’s a cold silence this time, neither of them speak a word and you’re fairly sure that they stop breathing too.
“Why would someone sneak in and not kill us?” Trink asks.
“The door creaks too.” Lennox says.
You zip up the bag, and then look at them, “The door doesn’t creak if you’re careful with it. The night of the storm, I got up to pee and the door didn’t make a sound when I opened it or closed it.”
Trink’s looking at Lennox, “And a cannon would go off, wouldn’t it?”
Lennox’s nodding, thinking.
Eventually, Allio comes back to the shack, and by then you’ve got all the food piled up. You divide it again, disappointed that you won’t be having half a sandwich again today. But it’s better that you don’t, you think. Once you’re done eating, you pack up your stuff and just leave the garbage in the corner of the room.
It’s back on track to the cornucopia. In just a few hours, you’re replenishing your water at the pond. Lennox suggests hunting as much as you all can on the way back to the cornucopia, which means splitting up. But Trink says that there hasn’t been a single animal in the few hours it took you to get there.
However, you can see movement in the pond.
“Leave a backpack with me, I’ll just sit here and fish.” You hold out your hand for the one that Trink has. With no problem, she swings it off and hands it over.
“Don’t want company?” Allio asks.
You look at Allio, “Do you want to eat tonight or not?” you snap.
“Let’s go.” Lennox pushes Allio slightly to get him moving.
“See you in a few hours.” Trink says, “Be safe.”
“You guys too.” you wave, and then wait for them to leave completely.
After that, you place the backpack firmly next to you, and then get up to grab the fishing pole from the bush. Once you sit back down, you mess with it to get it to be comfortable in your hands again. You lay out a sheet of plastic, and then grab out your water bottle to use it as the reel.
It’s just a waiting game now.
60 notes
·
View notes