The Black Hand by StolenSouls
Rated K+
Prologue
I don't belong in this family.
Not because my grandfather told me this a thousand times. Not even because I betrayed my blood over and over again.
It was because I chose who I was.
And now I'm paying the consequences. The room here is the room I've known my entire life. It belongs to the home I grew up in, the home I ran away from, and the home I eventually came back to.
Except this time, it's a prison.
The Early Years
My last name wasn't even supposed to be mine. After all, legally I was to take my father's last name. Instead, when I was born, I became Jocasta Appolonia Snow. My grandfather saw to that. It was his way of showing my family who was in charge.
Turns out my mother didn't even have time to protest. Because right after I was born, she died. Not before giving me my first name though. It was the same as hers. And for that, I loved her more than anyone in my family-except for my father. After all, it was my father who decided that my education was more important than anything.
"Here in the Capitol, people stuff themselves with food. They also stuff their brains out. But Jo, you'll be something different. Once your grandfather is...unable to rule this country, the council will elect you as their leader, I'm sure. Then you'll show Panem what you're really made of."
My father hated the grand mansion where we lived. It carried an air of wealth and superiority, from the red carpets to the golden panels of the walls. Instead, he took me to the central government building, where he taught me everything he knew in one of the unused offices. From when I was five, I remember sitting at one side of the table while he sat at the other. Rather than teaching me the repetitive material taught at schools in the Capitol, he chose to teach me what students used to learn before the Dark Days:history, geography, sciences, languages. If I ever complained, he would say: "Jocasta, you only have ten years before your brain can absorb information. Don't become like the people here. Learn everything you can." Gradually, the complaints ceased and I started to absorb everything my father told me. Pretty soon learning became my passion, my reason for living in this mundane society. While my grandfather threw parties in the mansion, I shivered at night in the government building while hugging my books. I learned of a time where there was a government in which people chose their leaders. If the people were unhappy with their government, they took it over. It was strange that nothing like that had happened in Panem yet.
Despite everything my father did, however, my grandfather was still the one in charge. Every year, I was forced to watch the Games. Soon I began pretending to doze off in order to avoid seeing the gruesome scenes of death and violence. I started to grow impatient with my grandfather's control. No matter what I did, he always had a problem with it. From studying late at night to not leaving the government building more, I was always a nuisance in his eyes.
"Grandfather," I said when I was ten years old, "why do we still have the Hunger Games?"
My father would have scolded me for that, but at that moment, I didn't care. My grandfather narrowed his eyes at me before saying, "To guarantee that the districts never revert to the Dark Ages."
"But they won't. After all, they still think District 13 is destroyed don't they? Why don't they just-" I cut off after seeing the murderous look on my grandfather's face. I had never seen him so disturbed. He grabbed me by the wrist, and I winced from his iron grip.
"District 13 is destroyed, do you understand girl? I don't want you going on the streets spreading stories like this. From now on, you do as you are told, is that understood?" I tried to shrink away from his grip, but he only grew more impatient, "Is that understood?" I nodded, and he released me.
I never told my father about that conversation. He started to suspect I was hiding something, and finally asked me one day: "Jo, is there something you want to tell me?"
"No, father."
He frowned but didn't press the matter. I felt slightly guilty for lying to him but pushed it aside. It wasn't that big of a deal, after all. Or so I thought. Because the next day, he didn't get out of bed. Instead, he lay there with his face turning red from fever. I started to scream and called every one in the mansion. My father was never sick. Never. Nothing could have changed him like that.
The next week, I was in a black dress in front of a tombstone. The only friend I had in my life was gone. Just like that.
My aunt came in to "take care" of me. Aunt Demetria, as I called her. She would make me study as well, except she didn't show much interest in it. After all, she knew I would learn on my own. The books were the only remainder of my father. To me, they were my life.
The Girl of Scarlet
After my father died, I soon sunk to the lowest level of existence. Servants had to force food down my mouth to get me to eat. I usually curled up in bed with a book in my hand. Sometimes, if I was stronger, I would go to the government building. Having been to the government building every day of my life, I soon knew the place inside and out. I soon went off exploring the building on my own more often. One day, I ended up in the most forbidden section of the place: prisoners of war.
Usually this place was empty. After all, the Districts usually put traitors to death. But I still checked this place everyday. Just in case. And when I was twelve, I was surprised to see a red-haired girl leaning against the wall in one of the cells.
"What's your name?" I asked. She looked at me and glared. I sighed. Of course. She knew me as President Snow's granddaughter. Everybody did.
But I was desperate for a friend, someone who hated this Capitol lifestyle even more than I did. I ran back upstairs and kept doing so until I reached the cafeteria. I grabbed random packages of food from the shelves. No one stopped me. No one would stop the president's granddaughter. I ran back down and approached the red-haired girl again. "Here," I said. I pushed the food through the bars into her cell. She looked at me suspiciously, but her hunger was too strong. Within minutes, she was gobbling the food as if she hadn't eaten for days. "Thank you," she said, between mouthfuls. I pressed my chance to ask her more.
"Why-why are you here?" I said. She looked down and didn't speak for such a long time that I almost left the room. But then she said, "Stealing."
"You're here for stealing?"
"No. They caught us in the Capitol, trying to steal bread from the stores. I ended up on the run with my brother...They went after us...in hovercrafts. My brother was killed. I don't know what...what they're going to do with me."
"Bastards," I hissed angrily. The girl looked at me in surprise. As if she had thought that I would support them. Never. To go after a girl in hovercrafts. What our government would do to gain control.
"I know who you are," the girl said.
"Who doesn't?" I sighed, "if only my grandfather would keep his mouth shut once in a while."
The girl looked at me as if I were an animal. "But isn't it nice though? Living here?"
"Eating like there's no tomorrow at parties all day? Not a chance."
I think that won her over. Before long, the girl-or Lavinia as I should call her-had told me everything about her. She was born in a poor family. She got her food through stealing. Her brother was really close to her and spent hours with her everyday. The one time they got caught, they ended up running across Districts by foot for weeks. When they were cornered in the woods of District 12, a young girl poacher was there. She had watched as Lavinia was taken by hovercraft and hadn't done anything.
Before long, I was telling my story. When I talked about my dad, something inside me snapped, and I started to bawl. Lavinia patted my shoulder through the bars as I whimpered.
"And then...and then he died and my aunt came and...I don't know why I'm still alive!" One year's worth of grief poured out of me. "I've come close to doing it. I tried putting a belt around my neck. I've tried EVERYTHING! I just..I just can't do it. I'm not strong enough."
Lavinia stood up, staring straight at me. "You're not going to die."
"What's my purpose of living? My parents are dead and I-"
"Panem needs people like you. Are you really going to waste all of your dad's efforts by killing yourself?"
Her words shook my body. She was right. Of course she was. My father...my father didn't fill my brain up only to see it die.
"What do you think I should do?" I whispered.
"Run for president the minute you turn eighteen. The country needs you."
I sniffled and realized how much time has passed. "Will you be here tomorrow?" I asked.
"I hope so," said Lavinia. An overjoyed feeling swept over me. I hadn't felt this way in years. It was as if I was being reborn. Lavinia was my secret. She was a true friend. Maybe I could convince my grandfather to release her! It would take some persuading, but...
I waved goodbye to Lavinia and ran back to the mansion. For the first time since my father died, I entered a soundless slumber.
Two weeks later, she was gone. My heart nearly stopped beating, and I started gasping out breaths. No, I thought, no. He wouldn't have. He wouldn't have needed to do anything with her. Then I started to scream.
"LAVINIA!" I yelled. I ran, searching the empty cells with my eyes. "LAVINIA, where are you?"
"Jocasta! Stop this shouting at one!" I swirled around to see Aunt Demetria standing with her hands on her hips. "Go back to the mansion now." I screamed even louder. Two guards descended down the stairs and grabbed me by the arms. My legs went spinning and hit both of them. Still, I didn't stop screaming until the needle entered my arm.
When I opened my eyes, the first person I saw was my aunt. She immediately took both of my hands into hers and said, "Jocasta, please just listen to what I have to say. Your...your grandfather has developed an interest in you. If you don't listen to me, both of us are going to die."
I didn't have the strength to say anything. My aunt continued, "Lavinia has been made into an Avox." A metal fist punched me straight in my stomach. I couldn't remember how to breathe. "Your grandfather saw to that," she continued, "He thought that you were gaining too much hope."
"Too much hope for what?" I whispered.
"For overthrowing the Capitol." I unsuccessfully tried to shout, yell, scream in protest. I slumped down back into my bed and looked my aunt. She seemed to have started thinking of me as someone worth of her respect.
"It's time you learn the truth about your family," she said, "Your mother was an unhappy woman. When we were younger, she would always ponder her reason for living. She would cry at random moments and say she couldn't live in the Capitol anymore. Your grandfather would try taking her on tours throughout the Districts, but those only made her worse."
"Your father was the perfect match for her. He relied on education for his strength and confidence, even though he was mother was madly in love with him when she was seventeen. It took your grandfather some convincing, but he agreed to the marriage in the end."
"Nevertheless, your grandfather always resented your father. Once your mother died, he was about to throw your father into the streets and raise you himself. I intervened and told him your mother would never forgive him if she were still alive."
"Have you ever wondered why your grandfather has puffy lips?" I shook my head. "He uses poison-along with the antidote-to do away with his enemies. Why else do you think your father became sick at such a random time?"
No.
He didn't.
My father. The one person who hated arguments. The only friend I had ever had-apart from Lavinia.
My grandfather wouldn't have done that.
"No," I said. I shook my head back and forth. "No!" I yelled. I stood up and glared at my aunt. "You're lying!" I shouted. "He was just sick! He was just..." I broke down into sobs. My aunt put her arms around me as I shook in her grip. This was all my fault. Why hadn't I realized it before? The look in my grandfather's eyes...the sudden flash of anger he showed...why didn't I realize I was being too smart-too smart for a president's granddaughter?
My aunt talked to me one last time: "Snow is starting to think of you as a potential weapon-as well as a potential threat. Continue what your father died doing. Take down your grandfather. Unite Panem." She walked out of the room and left the mansion the next day. I never saw her again.
The Games
And so I started.
Snow forced me to stay in the mansion and remain by his side as he conducted his work. I obliged, cheerfully pretending to be the perfect granddaughter. Inwardly, I was scheming plans of vengeance. Slowly, I started to defy my grandfather. I would take half-an-hour "bathroom breaks" to escape his watchful gaze. I would pretend to fall asleep while he spoke to the few people involved in our government, hoping to embarrass him. But deep down, I knew these pranks were childish and did nothing. I needed to plan something stronger.
When the Games started, I started to think of new ideas. I was allowed to watch the uncut footage of the Games. Every time there was a tribute who defied the rules of the Games in some form, I bought the tribute food. That would plant a seed of doubt upon my grandfather's morality. But every time, that failed. The tribute would always die in the early stages of the game. Finally, I gave up...until she showed up.
There was something about her that melted my heart. Maybe it was her song. Maybe it was the swiftness of her arrow as it protected the people she loved. Maybe it was her eyes, always on the watch.
Her kisses didn't fool me though. They were for her survival, not anything else. But the people beside me sighed like fools. How stupid they were. To think that a boy and a girl who were longing to survive just a few days longer would fall in love in a matter of weeks.
I drained my wallet that day. As my wallet became thinner, Katniss and Peeta had fuller stomachs. But it was worth it. Saving two peoples' lives. It was the best feeling I ever had.
When they won, I witnessed my grandfather's frustration. He banged his fist on the table and sent everyone away-except me. I heard him yelling on the phone, "Arrest Senaca Crane! He is to be held accountable for this." I knew this wasn't to be the end of this. Crane would die, sure, but Katniss and Peeta would bear the burden of this mess.
The next year was unbearable. I couldn't do anything but sit and wait as Snow ranted about the uprising in the Districts. I couldn't blame Katniss though. She was looking to survive. I would have done the same thing. But deep down, I was boiling. I wanted to remove my grandfather from his position. I wanted to cut off his tongue, just as he did Lavinia's. I wanted to poison his body just as he poisoned my father. I had to stay calm though. I had to be the best actress in the country.
So I pretended to be the sweetest granddaughter he could ask for. I brought him tea to his desk. I would bring him food when he was angry. But every time I did so, I bit my lip to keep myself from vomiting from disgust.
And then there was the party in the mansion. Katniss had just become "engaged" to Peeta. Snow was barking mad to think this would work. Didn't he know half the country was starving? Didn't he care that people were angry? When I was wandering across the room, thinking about what to do, I heard them:
"Maybe we were wrong, Katniss."
"About what?"
"About trying to subdue things in the districts."
I immediately swirled in an odd motion to feign drunkenness. After a minute or so, I dared to look at Katniss. She looked disgusted as she danced with Plutarch Heavensbee. When her eyes met mine, she turned her face in the other direction. Did she know, just like everyone in the Capitol, who I was? If that were the case, my existence would be unforgivable to her.
Months later, I saw Katniss again. This time, however, I knew for sure the rebellion wouldn't end. Even if Katniss died, there was too much anger. Every revolution my father had nailed in my head came to light now. There would be no stop to this. Not even if both Katniss and Peeta died.
I closed my eyes and tried to think of what to do.
The Last Stand
When they came to the dungeons, I was waiting for them. Peeta, Enobaria, Johanna, Annie. They didn't deserve to die. They had no sufficient reason to in my eyes. And I wasn't going to let them.
I stopped eating breakfast the day they came in. Instead, I would split it up into portions and smuggle it to them. Johanna and Enobaria would grumble or glare at me if I gave them food, as if Snow told me to do so. Peeta and Annie, on the other hand, would thank me. Gradually, I started cutting down on my meals as I extended theirs. After all, they needed the food more.
The one advantage the rebellion offered was that my grandfather was too busy to care what I was doing. He was always locked up in his office, filming a message for Panem or directing orders to someone. Everyday I draped a black cloak on my shoulders and smuggled food to the prisoners. Sometimes, I brought damp towels if they had been tortured during the night. I tried to think of every thing I could do to defy my grandfather. Keep Peeta living as long as possible. Make sure Annie's eyes were open in the morning. When the Rebellion showed a tape of Katniss, I told Peeta exactly what had happened. I didn't know if he understood me though; his blue eyes were out of focus, just like most prisoners of war.
Ten weeks later, they came. The people behind the rebellion. I saw them break into the dungeons. And of course, I gave them the keys to the cells while hiding my face in my cloak. But my grandfather had removed most measures protection from the dungeons. He had put the tracker jacker venom into Peeta's mind. All my fault. I hadn't done what my father told me to do so long ago. Reforming Panem? Becoming its leader? That wasn't going to happen. There was only one thing I was living for: the rebellion.
Before they left, I said, "Don't give it up. Please don't!" The tall man, Katniss Everdeen's cousin, looked at me darkly. For a second, we fully understood each other.
"Never," he said. And then they were gone.
I stood there panting for a minute, an hour, perhaps? Finally, I felt like screaming from both joy and fear. I ran out of the cells and through the halls of the government building. "SMACK!" I ran into someone so hard, that I toppled us both to the floor.
"I'm sorry!" I cried. "I didn't mean-"
The person turned around, and I see my grandfather's snake-like face.
"Grandfather," I said, trying to keep my voice normal, "I thought you were in your office."
"How does it matter?" he said, taking a step towards me. "How does it matter when you don't see me the whole day? How does it matter when you helped them and betrayed your own family?" he said coolly.
For once in my life, my tongue deserted me. When I ended up in the same cell as Peeta's, I didn't protest. I didn't say anything the next day until when they came and shaved my auburn curls off. My mother's beautiful hair on the ground. The sight of it drove me mad. I started screaming in the cell and scratched the walls. I repeatedly banged my fists on the walls until my knuckles bled. I screamed and screamed until I ducked my head into a bucket of water.
The sight of my face calmed me; I saw a girl with no hair and hazel eyes. My father's eyes. He wouldn't be screaming like me. He would try to think of something.
I bit my knuckles hard, until my hands became red. Then I started to calm down. I found a nail on the ground which I used to etch messages into the walls. Everything my father taught me about arts, history, science went on the walls. Gradually I started to tire of this, and I entered a slumber.
A guard woke me up in the middle of the night. "Put these on," he said, handing me a pair of metal earrings. Earrings? What could he want with those? I put them on my ears, deliberately not screwing them on completely.
The next thing I knew, I was blindfolded and placed in a chair. Someone pulled a switch, and I felt an electrical current travelled through my ears. I screamed, louder than I ever have in my life. The current didn't even stop. I started kicking in random directions and yelled for them to stop. I didn't plead for mercy though. I would never do that. If I had screwed the earrings on, my ears would be burning.
Eventually, one guard said, "That's enough", and it stopped. The metal vision of my dad kept me from passing out from pain. Someone said, "Wow, she lasted longer than the red-haired girl." My stomach flipped. Lavinia. He killed her off. A strong smell of roses purged the air. Then I heared his voice:
"If you ever betray me in any form again, the penalty will be death. I am a man of my word. You are an educated girl. Have some sense."
Happy Sixteenth Birthday Jocasta
I woke up early in the morning that day. There was nothing to do. I had failed everyone, failed my mother, my father, my aunt...and myself. I wasn't even strong enough to take my own life.
If I had succeeded, I would have protested when my grandfather posted children outside the mansion to protect himself. Instead, I just watched. There was something wrong about this. And I did nothing. I just pressed my face against the window of the mansion, praying for this to be over.
Then the first bomb struck.
That woke me up.
My grandfather didn't start the bombs. He was planning to surrender and escape the Capitol. So if he didn't, who did?
Then I saw him. Running. Panicking. Trying to escape the mansion.
And I wouldn't let him.
My dad's face flashed in my mind, accompanied by my mother's and Lavinia's. I ran, ran until I reached the control room on the top floor of the mansion. All the doors were electronic. I started to slam my fist on buttons. All the doors started to close. Through the cameras, I noticed my grandfather barricaded in his bedroom, pounding on the doors. I didn't know what I was doing; I just kept on slamming buttons and pulling alarms until someone grabbed me from behind.
They handcuffed me and put me in my grandfather's room. They didn't ask me who I was and what I was doing.
I was relieved though.
Because I didn't know the answers to those questions myself.
Mission Fulfilled
Katniss is a ghost as she enters the room, shaken by the death of her sister. I remain in the wardrobe where I have been ever since my grandfather and I were arrested. We haven't spoken to each other; after all, what is there left to say? The clothes in my wardrobe muffle my hearing, but I hear one sentence which tells me everything: "The idea that I was bombing our own helpless children instantly snapped whatever frail allegiance my people still felt to me."
Oh Katniss. I want to reach out to her as a friend, just as I did for Lavinia. I want to reassure her that my grandfather, for once, is not manipulating anyone. But I can't move. My legs refuse to do so. So I sink into the array of clothes, doing exactly what my father feared.
Father, I'm so sorry. So sorry I never became leader of this country. I'm sorry I went after Snow for personal vengeance. I'm sorry for everything.
Minutes, hours, days pass. On the evening of the execution, I want to yell at my grandfather. Instead, all I manage is, "You...you killed my father."
He looks at me. "I won't deny it. You've always known too much."
"He-he didn't do anything-"
"Yes, he did. He implanted ideas in your mind, ideas which would have destroyed this country. Abolishing the Hunger Games-you know what the rebels live. This country needs the Games for order."
"You're wrong." I stand straighter than I have for months. "No, it doesn't. This country needs unity and love. And I will-"
"Will Coin bring what you speak of to Panem?" he interrupts.
I hesitate and say, "I will make some use in my life. For a person if not for a country." I know the answer to his question. But I won't admit it. I can't bring myself to admit that I-indirectly but nevertheless-helped this woman, who killed children pointlessly without blinking an eye.
When they take my grandfather away, I don't say anything in farewell. He doesn't either.
I witness the execution on the television. Coin is dead. Snow is dead. Better for Panem, at least. How ironic it was that Katniss was able to fulfill my father's dream, the dream of a man from the Capitol. A prisoner guard enters the room as I stare at the television. "This way miss." I detect a resentful tone beneath his polite words. Does everyone in Panem hate me now?
I enter a grand, vast room with people aligned on seats. I notice a man wearing a judge's robe in the center. "Sit down," the guard orders. I sit down as I hear the words of the judge:
"We gather here for the trial of Katniss Everdeen, charged for assassinating President Alma Coin. Does anyone have anything to say for the defense of the accused?" No one says anything. Then I hear Haymitch Abernathy cry out, "She was mentally traumatized!"
"And this prompted her to kill the leader of the rebellion? When the Capitol was the force behind the bombs?"
Haymitch yells out more protests, but it's clear that his argument is ineffective. The judge asks for any other comments. No one speaks. No one says anything for the girl who started the rebellion and led the people of Panem through it. No one is thinking for her, only themselves. Don't they know that the penalty for this crime is death?
"Those in favor of conviction?"
Before I know it, I yell, "WAIT!" The guard flashes me a warning look, but it's too late. After all, I was probably brought here for my own trial. There is no point in my silence any more. I stand up and face the judge: "I have something to confess."
He stares at me. I stare back.
"Katniss Everdeen was innocent. I manipulated her into assassinating Coin. If Coin was out of the way, my grandfather would have still had a chance of regaining power."
My words have the desired effect. People start shouting, screaming terrible things at me. Someone slaps me straight on the face. The judge decides that Katniss Everdeen is mentally ill and should be sentenced to treatment. Two bulky guards drag me to the prison cell where Lavinia once resided. I don't squirm or protest, only close my eyes. I dimly hear the guards that I am to die in twenty-four hours. So much for my father's efforts, his pains...
Someone rattles my prison bars. I open my eyes and find myself staring into Peeta Mellark's face.
"What are you doing here?" I say.
"You were the one who gave me the food, weren't you?" he says. I nod.
"And now, you...you lied to save her, didn't you?" Peeta says. This takes me by surprise.
"How-how did you know?" I stammer.
"You looked around before you got up. Not to mention, you spoke very fluently. If you were telling the truth, you would have stammered or broken down."
I don't know what to stay to that. Peeta looks sadly at me. "Why are you doing this?" he says.
I force myself not to spill out everything about my life; he won't be able to take it. Instead, I say, "All this time, I was trying to get revenge. I was trying to reconstruct through hatred. And it didn't work. I have nothing to live for now. But Katniss does. She needs to live more than I do. And you need her. Enough reasons?"
Peeta's look of grief and sadness surprises me. "Jocasta-"
"Just promise me one thing. Don't tell Katniss about this. She won't be able to handle it."
"I-"
"Please?"
He sighs. "I promise."
"Good." Peeta turns toward the hall and disappears in the darkness. For once, I feel the same joy I felt when I talked with Lavinia-the happiness of friendship.
They come for me in the morning.
I hear angry murmurs and shouts from the crowd. Outrage that the granddaughter of the former president would do this. Shock that such a person confessed. Sadness that their Mockingjay was manipulated by this "Capitol scum."
I cling onto the fact that I'm doing something worthwhile in my life. That I'm saving someone who does not deserve to die. That I'm saving our country from a possible revolution. And that I'll be seeing them again: my father, my mother, Lavinia.
"Stand here."
I walk to the platform. The gun turns towards my chest.
And fires.