Chapter 1:
I'll Be Home Soon. (Part 1)
Panic is a dreadful and treacherous emotion. It feels like your heart breaking and your stomach dropping, all whilst your mind is trying and failing to sort the irrational from the rational fears. It's at this crucial point that your body betrays you. The simplest of actions, like a heartbeat, or even taking a shuddering breath, starts to physically hurt. You are engulfed by a new wave of anxiety as you realize that, yes, you are panicking. This is the moment where you lose all control of the problem at hand. It's such a futile and counterproductive response. Even more so when you're all alone.
This was what was happening to Johanna. No matter how hard she tried, she couldn't keep the panic at bay and so it engulfed her. Inch by inch, liquid sand pulled her further down. It wrapped around her chest, squeezing tighter with every breath she took. The slightest movement resulted in sinking even faster. With no solid ground close enough to scramble for, Johanna had no choice but to accept that death was the only outcome for her current predicament. Over the last few days the thought of death had never left her. She had envisioned countless possibilities, some quite imaginative and flamboyant, most of them gruesome, but slowly drowning in sand had not been among them.
It all happened so fast and unexpectedly that it almost seemed unfair. How foolish of her to have ever thought she had a chance in winning the Games, or to think she would see her family again. Her brothers, her father, were they watching now? Never had Johanna felt so hopeless and alone as when all of Panem was watching her die.
"Johanna... Mason!" Felix Crain's voice echoed harshly over the town square.
Johanna's world had suddenly taken on a surreal quality, as she saw Felix's pine-green lips mouth the words. His thick Capitol accent made her name sound alien. It wasn't her he called for, it wasn't her name on that slip of paper, it just couldn't be. Numb, she stood in the District 7 square surrounded by thousands of children. Her eyes fixed on the escort and his fluorescent green suit. On the three gigantic screens behind him, Felix was portrayed larger than life, those deep green lips repeating the words - her name, again and again. But Johanna seemed unable to process what just happened. Somewhere in the background a woman cried out.
People nervously glanced at Johanna and the girls surrounding her stepped away, as if bad luck was contagious. Stop it! Stop staring you idiots! Johanna thought, You'll draw their attention. They'll think it's… just then the cameras found her and she saw herself replacing Felix Crain on one of the screens. …me. Her long brown hair, usually tied out of the way, flowed free with a pale blue ribbon keeping it in place. The borrowed dress she wore accentuated her undernourished figure. She barely recognized herself. She was sixteen years of age but the girl on the screen could easily have been mistaken for thirteen.
Another camera had found one of her elder brothers Herod and his wife Helena, who was crying uncontrollably in his arms. It must have been her scream that Johanna had heard before. Not until seeing them projected in front of her did Johanna accept the reality that she had been Reaped.
These kinds of things didn't happen to people you knew; not in her world, anyway. District 7 was huge, so the chances that you would be personally affected by a Reaping were tiny. Both her brothers had survived it without ever losing a friend or classmate and Johanna had never known any of the children Reaped before her.
"Chance of one in a million!" Herod used to say, when she was still too young to take part herself, "So don't you worry your pretty little head about me, Jo."
He and Alexander would head off for the Reaping, joking and laughing and come back in the same good humor. That fun-loving boy was not the man she saw on the screen. Herod's face looked pale and his eyes glazed over, as if all the life and joy had been sucked out of him. Johanna felt the sudden urge to run to him, but before she even had the chance a Peacekeeper grabbed her arm and pulled her towards the stage.
Inexplicably overjoyed that the tribute had been located in the crowd, Felix Crain called out to her, "Don't be shy, my dear! Come up here and show yourself to the world."
Herod disappeared from the screen, replaced by Johanna surrounded by Peacekeepers. As they dragged her forward she looked back in desperation, hoping to see either Herod or Alexander. But all she saw were hundreds of children relieved they weren't her. She received another rough nudge from a particularly burly Peacekeeper persuading her forcefully to continue walking. Stumbling forward a spark of anger rushed through her veins.
Dare do that again, you freak of nature. Johanna thought, as she flashed him a furious look. But she almost immediately changed her mind. Fighting would be unwise, they knew who she was and they knew her family. There was no other choice at this time but to comply. Clenching her teeth and with her eyes fixed to the ground she made her way to the stage. Seeing herself on the screen was upsetting enough but the looks of pity from the other children were excruciating.
A bunch of hypocrites, She thought, It's not like any of them are rushing to volunteer. Pity me now and then rush home to celebrate that it wasn't you this year? I bet by the same time next year none of you will remember my name.
It wasn't until she reached the stage that she dare glance up, only to look straight into the silver, gleeful eyes of Felix Crain.
"Up you come, love," he said, as he reached for her hand to help her up the steps. He smelled distinctly of rosemary and his skin glowed in the afternoon sun. Johanna blatantly ignored his outreached hand and got up the stage by herself. If Felix was in any way embarrassed by this gesture then he didn't show it, and happily guided her to the centre of the stage.
Behind him Johanna got a glimpse of the five District 7 Victors, sitting in order of their winning year, Adrian Harding, Leila Kessler, Sylven Burk, Blight Woodrow and Oren Burk. All looked either grimly disinterested or bored. None of them showed any interest in her except for Adrian who caught her eye and gave her a weak smile, nodding slightly. He was the youngest of the victors, winning the Games eight years ago. As a reminder two large scars disfigured his face, leaving him blind in one eye. Without the iris, it created a stark contrast against his dark skin.
Felix turned Johanna to face the crowed and held up her hand in triumph. His hand was cold and clammy. His high-pitched and dynamic voice transmitted from the speaker system.
"Ladies and Gentleman, I give you JOHANNA MASON! Your District 7 tribute for the 71st HUNGER GAMES!"
A faint clapping came from the Victors behind her, but despite Felix's enthusiasm the crowd remained silent. Hundreds of pairs of eyes stared at Johanna, all divided between two emotions. Some relieved, others nervous; still waiting for a name to be drawn from the boys' bowl.
As Felix walked over to the bowl with boys' names Johanna became aware of movement among the crowd. In the distance she caught a glimpse of her father trying to get past several Peacekeepers. A man with a fiery temper, he would often act without thinking. In a desperate attempt to reach her he called out her name. Seemingly in slow motion, she watched him fight off several Peacekeepers in a frenzy of anger before two raised their batons and he disappeared from her sight, underneath the nervous shuffling of the crowd. It happened so fast that it caught her off-guard.
"Dad!" Johanna screamed, pushing her way in front of a surprised Felix, who was still poised over the bowl.
The shock of knowing her father was being beaten - even if she couldn't see him, only the flashing of the Peacekeepers' batons, again and again, with a sick kind of rhythm - with not a single person coming to his aid, made tears swell up in her eyes. Her mind raced a hundred miles a second. How could she help him? Could she help him? Before she was able to do anything someone grabbed her shoulder.
"Get away from me!" she cried out and whirled to face whoever it was, tears blurring her vision but she was ready to hurt whomever it was trying to stop her.
"You'll only make it worse," Adrian advised her calmly, clutching her arm. She found herself staring - glaring - at him.
He must have seen the commotion even before Johanna did. Half-blind and half the weight he used to be, Adrian was still an imposing man to have standing next to you. Helpless and confused, Johanna could do nothing but let the tears run down her cheeks, even as she swiped at them with the back of her hand. Adrian was right, Johanna was well aware of the consequences linked to disrupting the Capitol's pageants. If she ran to her father's aid now he would only suffer more, and she would be thrown back onto the stage. So she didn't move, not even when Adrian returned to his seat. As if nothing happened Felix continued with the Reaping, flashing an easy smile at the crowd and dipping his hand into the bowl. He called a name, but Johanna didn't hear it.
With blurred vision, Johanna watched a skinny thirteen-year-old boy named Faunus Morrell come up to the stage. There were no painful cries from for him. Or maybe she just didn't hear. They must have shook hands at some point but that too was lost in the blur of emotions. Not until she sat alone in the tiny waiting room, praying for her father to burst through the door, was she able to calm herself and regain control of her thoughts. They wont hurt him. Not really hurt him. They need him don't they? For the interviews… Don't they?
Thankfully Herod and Alexander walked in before she had time to doubt herself. Johanna jumped to her feet and Herod wrapped her in a hug, a show of affection so unusual that it left Johanna at a loss for words.
Alexander answered her unspoken question as he gently placed his large hand on her head. "Don't worry Jo, Helena is with him, he'll be okay."
Relieved, Johanna let herself relax - if only slightly. The worries of her father's safety had been so overpowering that she almost forgot her own situation. But an awkward silence followed. All three stood there, unable to speak, as if by refusing to acknowledge her Reaping it would somehow be less real. Both her brothers, young men in their twenties, were loggers like her father. These were proper working men who didn't show emotions. The best way they knew to deal with painful situations was to ignore them.
But that wasn't going to work this time.
Herod, the least stubborn of the three siblings, broke the silence. Still holding Johanna's shoulders he pulled her close again.
"Come back, Jo," he whispered. "Don't you dare even think of doing anything else."
Johanna felt the pain in his voice. His arms tightened around her, making her feel small and frightened, but safe.
"At this rate you'll suffocate me before I even have a chance to go, you dimwit," she joked weakly to stop herself from getting to emotional. She almost choked on her on words. Maybe that'd'be better.
When he finally did let her go only pride stopped her from rushing back into his arms.
Alexander glanced at the door. "We don't have much time," he said. He was right, at any moment a peacekeeper could come in to take her away. He turned Johanna around to face him and looked her straight in the eyes. The look he gave her reminded her of when they were children, when he would let her play soldiers with them and the other boys.
"Jo, you know I'd trade places with you if I could, but I can't, so please listen," he said. Alexander had always been the more practical one, always the general in their war games. Calm and serious, he began to throw all the advice he had at her, speeding up as he went along, becoming more frantic with every word.
"Don't get into a fight unless you have to. Don't trust anyone. You've seen the Games. There are no friends in there."
Even though most of it sounded obvious it meant the world to Johanna. He, at least, believed in her.
"You've never let anyone get the better of you, so don't start now," he continued. "You're stronger than you look and a hell of a lot smarter than anyone else I know. You can do this Jo."
When the Peacekeepers barged in both brothers tensed up. They would protect her if she asked, Johanna realized. But she walked over to them without a fuss. What would be the point of getting them in trouble too? No matter how terrified she felt she wasn't going to let her brothers down. Before leaving she turned to them one more time.
"Tell Dad that I'll be home soon," Johanna said, forcing a smile.
The train raced silently through Panem's desolate landscape. Within ten minutes the fences of District 7 were mere specks on the horizon. They reminded Johanna of a game she used to play with her brothers and their friends. They would all gather behind Mister Finley's shed, from where they had a good view of the fence, and then dare each other to get close to it without being seen by the guards. If they got spotted they would all scatter and run back into town as fast as they could. Guess I won, she though as she watched the fences disappear.
She remembered that once Alexander got all the way to the fence and touched it, only to be knocked out cold by the shock. When it happened all the other children ran back to the town except for Haden and Johanna, who quickly went over to Alexander. Back then they thought themselves lucky that they were able to get Alexander away without being seen. Looking back now Johanna realized luck had little to do with it. The bastards knew full well we were there. They just let it happen to teach a bunch of kids a lesson. Probably laughed as we tried to wake him. They're probably laughing now, seeing two kid head out to die for their entertainment. Well, we'll see who's laughing when I get back.
Johanna was sitting the lounge along with Faunus. She had taken a seat as far away from him as possible. The small boy sat curled up with his arms around his knees, occasionally whipping his nose on his sleeve. He's not going to start crying is he? She though nervously as she saw him glance at her.
"Your father okay?" he mumbled shyly.
Johanna shrugged. She'd rather not have to think about that anymore.
"Are you scared?" Faunus asked. His big brown eyes scanned her features for some kind of support.
Don't do that, she though. We're not supposed to be friends.
"You know, kid," she said, hesitantly, "its probable best if we don't get to know each other. Get my drift?"
Faunus nodded and buried his face into his arms and knees. "Sorry," he said softly.
Johanna rolled her eyes and sighed as she slay down on a sofa more comfortable then any bed she ever slept on. Don't feel sorry for him Jo, nothing good can come from it.
"Good we're all here." She heard Felix proclaim happily as he walked into the cabin. Both tributes quickly sat up straight. This was what they had been waiting for, their mentors. Two Victors, Leila Kessler and Blight Woodrow followed Felix into the room. Johanna felt a pang of disappointment. For some reason she had assumed that Adrian would be her mentor, probably because he had helped her on stage. Great, so it's either the Princess or the Sloth.
"Johanna, Faunus these are your mentors, Leila and Blight. I'm sure we will all get along wonderfully." Felix said, with a clipboard in hand on which he scribbled notes. Then he started rattling on about a schedule and responsibilities, at which point Johanna zoned out.
Where Adrian had looked at least like a survivor, with his battle scars, Leila and Blight seemed like the last people you would want to have standing next to you in a fight. Leila was a woman in her late twenties, she was dressed from top to bottom in the latest Capitol fashion. From her feathered eyelashes and powdered blue wig, to her bright blue pencil dress and laced pink gloves. Johanna tried to recall what she knew about her, which wasn't much. She's the only female Victor we have left, that must be why she is always a mentor. But she has never, in the last 11 years or so, brought a Tribute home. Which makes her a lousy mentor. At least Blight brought Adrian's back, which must counts for something I guess.
Blight was a man in his forties with large dark circles under his eyes, his blond hair was unkempt and his face unshaven. He walked as if his limbs weighed a ton and he seemed to always be chewing something.
Felix smiled at the two tributes, "You know, your both very lucky to have such experienced mentors this year. Anyway," Felix clapped his hands, "we have decided that we will keep the boys with the boys and the girls with the girls. It's always more fun that way."
Figures. Just as I was getting used to the idea of Blight.
Blight let himself fall into a chair next to Faunus but Leila said a few muttered words to Felix and turned to leave the cabin again.
"Hey! Aren't we supposed to talk about stuff?" Johanna called out to her.
"Are we?" Leila asked, raising an eyebrow. "And what might this stuff be?"
"Um... I don't know, like tactics and stuff?" Johanna said confused.
Leila smiled a very fake, Capitol, smile. "Tactics? Well, have you ever seen a Hunger Games?"
"Of course," Johanna said, rolling her eyes, Well, if we're going to be sarcastic. "Us common folk back in the districts do get treated to the occasional glimpse of it. Once in a while."
"In that case you've already seen all the tactics you need to know. And I really can't think of any other stuff we would need to talk about." And with that Leila left the cabin, leaving Johanna slightly stunned.
"Is she always like that?" Johanna asked, looking at Felix and Blight.
"Don't worry too much darling," Felix said taking a seat next to her. "I'm sure she's just tired. You'll have plenty of time to get to know her over dinner."
But dinner wasn't much better. Leila spend all evening sharing the latest gossip with Felix at the other end of the table. As the two sat together it was almost impossible to tell which one looked more Capitol then the other. Not once did Leila even look into Johanna's direction unless it was for a passing of bread.
That night, as the train raced through Panem, Johanna lay still on the largest bed she'd ever seen, staring out the window. Through it, the passing scenery created dancing shadows on the ceiling. She felt uneasy. Since she stepped on the train she had experienced more luxury than ever before in her life. Part of her suspected it to be a ruse to distract them from what they were heading towards; certain death.
She heard voices coming from the compartment next door, too muffled to hear what was being said but loud enough to keep her from her thoughts. It sounded like Faunus and Blight, probably discussing tactics. Something she and Leila should have been doing. At first Leila's absence hadn't bother Johanna too much, what on earth could a preppy princess like Leila teacher her anyway. But lying in that gigantic bed, hearing the voices of Faunus and Blight made her think. Maybe she was missing out? Were there Games secrets that she wasn't being told? And Leila did win the Games once, so she must know something. Why didn't she like her? Had she already given up on her? Never-ending questions raced through her head, preventing her from falling asleep.
In the early hours of the morning Johanna gave up all together and left her cabin for a walk. As she approached the lounge a flickering of light drew her closer. Inside she found Leila curled up on the floral-patterned sofa watching television. In her hand she held a drink, blue nails curled tightly around the glass. At first Johanna didn't even recognize her without all the Capitol attire. With her long red hair loose and wearing simple black trousers and a shirt Leila looked like any normal person. Better fed than most people Johanna knew, but without a doubt more District then Capitol. Maybe, Johanna though, she had judged her a bit too much on first impressions.
Johanna entered the lounge. On the television they showed reruns of the reaping with two capital hosts commenting on the looks and chances of each tribute. Johanna couldn't quite tell if Leila was watching it or just gazing into the distance, lost in thought. Not sure what to do Johanna was about to leave again when Leila looked up.
"Oh, it's you." Leila said without much enthusiasm. She stretched out like a cat and took as sip from her drink. "Not much of a sleeper, are we?" she asked. There was a certain tone of disdain in her voice.
Johanna shook her head and sat down in one of the leather chairs, hoping she and her mentor might actually get to talk.
"Why are you watching that?" she asked nodding at the screen. Having to go through it once had been torturous enough. Johanna couldn't imagine wanting to see it again.
Leila looked back at the television as if she just realized it was still on.
"There is only one channel, and I don't like silence. A lesser of two evils I guess," she said and finished the last bit of liquor left in her glass. "You should watch it through and see the competition. I, however, will try and go to sleep." And with that she got up.
Johanna couldn't help but suspect that Leila was trying to avoid her again. With images of the District 9 tributes flashing before her eyes she gathered up the courage to ask the question dominating her mind.
"How do I win?" she blurted out just before Leila left the room.
Leila turned around. "It very simple darling," she said with a smile. "Don't. Die."
Johanna couldn't help but snort with frustration at the obvious answer. "But how?" she asked, desperate to get some real information. She didn't want Leila to leave. She wanted answers, some real help. Wasn't that what a mentor was for? To give guidance and help you survive?
Leila sighed sharply and came back to sit on the sofa's armrest. She faced Johanna, eyes scrutinizing, though never making eye-contact.
"You want some genuine advise? Do yourself a favor, when you're on that platform and they start the countdown," -for the first time Leila looked Johanna in the eyes- "step off it." She said this with absolute seriousness, a dead look on her face.
Shocked, Johanna refused to believe what she just heard. "Are you nuts? You want me to die?" she demanded in flash of anger.
But Leila just shrugged her shoulders and got back up. "Everyone dies, darling," she said calmly. "However, you get the choice. Quickly or slowly? Your pick."
Johanna wasn't having any of it, furious that her own mentor would suggest suicide. "I'm going to win!" she announced stubbornly, as though that made a difference.
"Are you now?" Leila said, raising an eyebrow and smirking.
The mocking tone in which she did aggravated Johanna even further. "I might not look it, lady, but I can defend myself. I'm not a lost cause, however much you may think I am. I can win!"
There was a trembling in her voice, a tingling in her eyes and she felt her heart pounding in her throat. She was angry and upset but Leila showed no sympathy for her tribute.
"It's not about defending yourself, girl. It's about wanting to go home and wanting it more than the kid standing in front of you."
"I can do it!" Johanna almost yelled.
"Really? Are you sure about that?" Leila seemed to have lost her patience. The glass was gone from her hand now, discarded on the floor. "What if it's just you and Faunus at the end? Can you do that? Or some twelve-year-old, crying for her mother? Can you do that, girl? Because if you can't, then you're just wasting my time."
Leila turned and walked out of the room, leaving Johanna speechless with anger. Angry that Leila didn't believe her. Angry that she had given up on her before even giving her a chance, but most of all angry because with just a few words Leila had managed to bring her close to tears and it made her feel weak. For a long time, Johanna sat frozen on the couch, trying to come up with something to call out that would make her mentor that she wasn't going to die.
Nothing came to her.
Johanna let herself fall deeper into the chair. On the screen the District 8 tributes for this year's Games waved at the crowd. Both must have been close to eighteen and the commentators seemed quite positive about their odds.
"Of course the older ones always stand a better chance," one of the invisible men proclaimed.
"How very true, Plautus," the other added, voice syrupy-sweet, "but then we mustn't underestimate the little ones. I refer, of course, to District 4's Finnick Odair, who was a mere fourteen when he won his Games."
"Correct, correct, there is always a tiny chance for an deviant," Plautus replied, "and those usually make for the most rewarding Games to watch. Don't you think so?"
"Everyone loves an underdog," his colleague replied cheerfully, "and, of course, the odds that go with it."
Both men chuckled and the scenery changed to that from District 7. There Johanna saw herself on stage. Tears rolling down her cheeks. They had cut out the part of her father being beaten, so now it looked like she was crying because she had been Reaped. She looked small and helpless, and the commentators agreed.
"We see them every year don't we? The one who has already given up." Plautus observed, clucking his tongue disapprovingly.
"I'm afraid you're right," his colleague agreed, "and would you just look at the fragile state she is in. Someone please give the girl a biscuit! I don't think we will see much of her after the first day."
All this should have discouraged Johanna even more. Instead her mind came to life. If all the other tributes had been watching this then every single one now underestimated her. She might not be the strongest tribute but growing up in a house full of men had made her tougher then she looked. She had the element of surprise on her side. And with or without Leila's help she was determined to win.
I'll get back home, no matter what it takes.