"I'm sick of this. I'm going to get water." Johanna says, heading towards the area with the Jabberjays.
"No!" I call out. "They mimic the people you love." And no one should have to hear what I just expierenced.
"Don't worry about me. They can't hurt me." She looks from me to the jungle. "I don't have anybody left that I love." And with that she disappeared into the area of the arena I knew I'd never be coaxed back into.
Just then Peeta and Finnick appear by my side, staring after Johanna. "That girl is a piece of work." Finnick says, before sighing and taking a seat next to Beetee on the beach. Peeta grabs my hand. "I wonder what she means by there's no one left that she loves." I ask, letting Peeta pull me to the beach with the others.
"All I know," Finnick pipes in. "Is that whatever her story is I can only imagine the kind of people who could care for her. They must have had very brave souls."
Peeta sighs. "I guess we'll never know her back story." He shrugs. "I'm not sure I even want to."
"Back story? You want back story?" We all give a start as Johanna appears soundlessly. She had a bucket of water and looked like she was about ready to rip off someone's head. I could see Finnick even move slightly in the opposite direction. "Well since we're all being so friendly and getting to know each other, here's some back story for you." She slams the bucket down and stares at all of us. "My mother had complications giving birth to my younger brother. They didn't make it; both died. Then my older sister and brother are both sent as tributes to the Hunger Games. They didn't stand a chance. Then I'm chosen and win. Finally I think life's taking a turn for the better. Wrong. Apparently the capitol didn't like the whole weak and helpless turned wicked killer stint I pulled during the games so, while I was still in the arena, they kill my father. Say he had an accident; a tree fell on him. Like that could've happened."
"What do you mean? Couldn't a tree have killed him?" My curiosity gets the better of me and I can't hold my tongue any longer. Isn't possible that like the coal miners facing death by mine explosions that the people of District 7 who work with trees could be smashed by one? Johanna's expression is one of bitterness as she stares me down. It also shows traces of annoyance. Like me even asking about trees falling on people is beneath her answering. But she continues.
"I'm from District 7. Trees are our life. Paper this, lumber that. We know how to handle ourselves in the forests. So, no, a tree couldn't have killed unless some force," Johanna put a strong emphasis on the word and we all knew she meant the Capitol. "Intervened, then he would've survived." She shakes her head and pauses for a moment. "So I come home to the only person I love – possibly ever have loved. My grandmother. And all's going well until the Victory Tour. I make it to the Capitol and President Snow has a very special plan for the latest Victor." She seemed to cringe at the memory. "But I tell him there's no way I'm becoming one of his love puppets. Well, that's not exactly what he wants to hear. It's about this time that the Capitol decides that maybe the weak and helpless victor should be taught to take care of herself. And they execute my grandmother right in front of me, for some stupid reason." Johanna's voice falters slightly. She exhales quietly before she's back to her usual demeanor. "That's why the Jabberjays don't bother me. Because there is no one left I love. Friends? I don't even like people. I don't need anyone. Besides, Snow would just kill them anyway. So that's my story. Happy now?"
Johanna scoffs loudly before standing up and separating herself from the group. She heads down to the water and everyone in the group avoids eye contact with one another. There's an awkward silence that seems almost unbearable until Finnick speaks up. "She may end up dead for saying all those things, but you have to give her some credit for her gall."
And deep down I know she's right. I have Prim and my mother. Johanna has no one. And yet she still lives to see another day. President Snow could not have been more wrong. Johanna wasn't a weak and helpless girl. She was a strong, intelligent woman and, above all, a fighter.