NOTE: For anyone who has NOT finished the entire trilogy, this DOES contain spoilers.
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As I grip the tiny, unsure hand of my son Finn, and the reassuring, strong grip of Peeta's, I stare at the shining marble floor of the airport and wonder if this trip was worth it. Right now, I'm having second doubts about crossing the borders of Panem, the seas, this trip Peeta, and eventually me, were so confident of. I guess it can't be too bad, considering that this country called France has made sure that we have top-notch security and all. But still, why did we have to come along with President Paylor?
I feel a slight tug on my shirt from my daughter Primrose. "Mama, Mama, when can we go?"
"Soon, sweetheart, " I answer somewhat wearily. We're waiting for a woman named Colette, and she was supposed to be here twenty minutes ago.
I let go of Peeta's hand and gaze at the people passing by. A child with a reddish sauce stain on his shirt toddles by. A woman artfully done up, running flustered towards a door. A man with a somber expression walks slowly, a briefcase in his hand. These people are used to nice things, happy moments and have been for a while. They are secure and stable and will be for a long time. And probably watched as the people of Panem were murdered, brutally, each year, without a single fleeting whisper or shocked expression, never calling for aid. I hate them for that. But maybe they never knew. They should've tried though, at least.
A woman almost completely done up in black greets us, interfering with my musings: "Hello. I am Colette. I do apologize for the delay, but-"
"It's fine, " Peeta interrupts, even though to me, it's not. "Go on."
"Yes, well, as I was saying, I am sorry, but let me show you to your quarters. Come, " she continues. I grip Peeta's hand again as she leads us out of the glass doors without a single fingerprint.
I slide into the car, which thankfully doesn't hover, and squeeze my eyes shut. The car smells of-of-roses. Not the sickening, heavy perfume of President Snow's genetically altered ones, which curled up my nose and threatened to choke me, but a softer, sweeter smell, a natural smell, although there isn't a single rose-whole or petals-to be found. But I still hate the smell, which brings back memories I've been trying so hard to shut out of my mind: The spear entering Rue's body, Cato being ravaged by those bloodthirsty mutts, Mags running into the poisonous spray, Wiress's bloody death, Finnick being torn to pieces by lizards, Prim-sweet, wonderful Prim-on fire, a human torch…
I'm covered with cold sweat and the car has slowed to a halt. "Katniss, Katniss, are you all right?" asks Peeta.
"You must know…"I whisper to him, because he does know, should know…
"Yes, Katniss, I do. But look, we're here at the…hotel, " he whispers back.
"A hotel?" I ask. I have never, not once, heard the name "hotel."
Peeta shrugs but says, "Colette says that a hotel is someplace with an abundance of rooms that people can temporarily stay in."
"Oh." Well, this is something new, but the idea isn't shocking or repulsive.
Colette ever so daintily leaps out of the car and says, "Room 121 is where you'll be staying. Ask the people at the desk for your entry card."
Peeta and I nod and I almost immediately take hold of Finn and Primrose's hands. Who can I trust?
We get the plastic green striped card and find our way to Room 121, on the third floor. This place is almost like the Training Center in a way, but this place I like better, for whatever reason.
Peeta opens the wood door, and that's when it hits me. The smell.
It chokes me, consumes me, and brings even more of those nightmarish memories at a rapid pace that I can't handle.
Because on the first bed, so carefully placed-and intentionally, too-is a single, genetically altered white rose