When this wild world
Is a big bad hand
Pushing on my back
Do you understand?
Calling moon and moon
Shoot that big bad hand
It'll drag me to your door
And I won't see you no more
Moon and Moon - Bat for Lashes
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The first time he sees her in the woods, he has no clue what power this starved, shy girl will have over him one day.
Growing up in District 12, there is no room for pity, but when he hears her broken whisper, his heart aches a little for the girl whose name he can not quite catch.
.
It becomes routine so quickly, the woods their home, their hiding place for secrets, providing shelter, food and a friend. For the both of them.
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The day he realizes he minds, that the thought of her with anyone else but him causes an unfamiliar but venomous rage to boil inside of him, he lies awake all night, letting every memory he has of her flash by.
Looking for signs he might have missed.
.
He is brave, and he knows he has courage. If not, he would not be risking his life every day in order to provide for his family. But every time he tells himself that today is the day to take a step, a small one – he does not want to scare her away – he finds himself back home at night with no progress made in between.
What he is so afraid of, he does not know.
.
The image of her storming onto that stage burns itself into his memory forever.
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It is sick, and he knows that. Begging for Effie Trinket to announce his own name. Not caring that it would mean his certain death. He just begs for a few more days with her, maybe the opportunity to protect her, and to give her a better chance to return back home. Not in a coffin, but alive.
When his name is not called he knows he can not volunteer the way she did for her little sister. If the odds have not chosen him there will be no forgiveness if he abandoned his family, and hers along the way.
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It seems like the wrong place, the wrong time. But the three words that have lingered on his lips for so long are whispered in a choked sob before his encouragements – that she can do this, that she knows how to kill – have faded into silence.
His arms wrap tightly around her, pulling her flush against him, whispering promises to look after her family, to wait, while his fingers are buried in her hair, messing up the braid, feeling her shivering skin.
He knows it is his last chance to say this, to do this. With the Games being a constant threat lingering all year, it still had never really occurred to him that he might find himself in a situation where he had to do and say this out of pure desperation, because there was no time left.
She is an excellent hunter, knows how to survive in the wilderness, is so strong for her age. Although his words had said differently, he knows that she is not a killer, will need too much time to understand and accept that there is no place for compassion and morals in the Games, and that the odds… would never be in her favour.
His encouraging words are nothing but a final string of hope that he has to dig out from places so deep he fears he might collapse right here, in front of her, knowing this will be the last time to touch her, hear her, actually see her and be with her.
The shudder that runs through his veins as the brief thought enters his mind how long it will take until he has to watch this girl he loves so much die on screen leaves him almost immobile, his arms tense around her body.
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It takes all his self-control not to scream when they pull him away from her, from her confused, teary smile, her lips parted as if there are more words she wants to utter.
But their time is up.
.
The girl on fire.
It seems like an odd choice, and his insides burn with rage as he has to watch her in those clothes, in that place, holding his hand, a person foreign to him. He looks for hints of the girl he had gone hunting with until just a few days ago, but he finds nothing.
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He feels no hate towards the baker boy as he sits there, proclaiming his profound feelings for her. He does not know what to make of it. Of the shocked expression on her face, the sincerity in his eyes, the enthusiastic response those few words arouse from the masses.
It makes him sick.
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What is true and what is not? And if a lie is pushed so much into the eye of the public, does that make it true at some point?
Can the star-crossed lovers who never spoke to each other before really fall hopelessly in love with each other if it is proclaimed every hour of every day?
Is he supposed to believe he never had a chance, even if her little sister's name had never been picked?
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There is no room for romance in the Games, only for violence.
But the comments, the lingering shots, the close-ups, the hopes, the hypocritical pity for the star-crossed lovers from District 12 might make the audience forget that there can only be one victor.
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After a week, hope carefully blossoms, fragile and lonely in the dark turmoil of his mind.
She made it this far. Maybe the odds are in her favour after all.
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He sits by the small, calm lake from sunrise until the moon illuminates the night sky the day the two pale coffins arrive on the train.