Thanks for clicking & hopefully reading!
The second segment to the Johanna three-shot! I know there are like a million names and characters that kind of just pop up everywhere without explaining who exactly they are and how they're in relation to Johanna. Sorry about that; I tried to explain them all whenever I could but I didn't want to keep repeating them all, so I trust that you have everyone's names down? If not, here is a list/legend for you guys to refer to if you're confused:
Annaleigh = Johanna's older sister, Declan = Johanna's younger brother, Rhine = Johanna's little cousin, Livi = Johanna's little cousin, Jeremy = Johanna's little cousin
Yes, it's quite sad when there's a legend for all the characters... sorry. Really. I tried to keep it to a minimum, but I really couldn't resist, and it all just came out like a character bomb in your face, with me just kind of throwing characters at you. Oops.
Anyways, not to delay you any longer! I hope you enjoy the chapter!
Disclaimer: Everything belongs to Suzanne Collins.
No, this isn't fair, this isn't right; this is all wrong.
She was done playing their games.
Johanna Mason had won the Hunger Games, and she got what she wanted - to go back home to her family.
And she was supposed to be happy; she has her family and this new big house to fit them all in and enough food to feed them all for the rest of her life.
But Johanna isn't happy. She isn't happy at all.
Not when her family has fear and sadness in their eyes, trying to hide it with their big smiles and fake laughter.
Not when everyone in her district runs away from her, looking back at her with terror and whispering whenever she passed by.
Johanna isn't happy, not at all. She's absolutely miserable, because everything's different now, everyone treats her differently now.
Her little cousins don't play with her anymore - Jeremy, Rhine and Livi scuttle to the corner whenever she enters a room - I'm scared, Rhine, I didn't know she could do that with an axe. I'm scared, too, Livi, what if we become like her when we grow up? Be quiet, Jeremy, she's coming!
Her older sister doesn't want to have the long talks on their bed anymore - I'm busy, Jo, can't you see - and Johanna can see the fright in Annaleigh's warm brown eyes whenever she looks at her.
Her younger brother is always looking avoiding her eye, and Johanna overheard Declan talking to his friend the other day - I don't know who she is anymore; I swear I'm nothing like her.
Johanna hates it, hates the worried glances her parents cast her, or the sad little smiles her aunt and uncle give her.
She used to be what made her whole family smile and laugh. And now - now, she was what gave her parents grief and horror; the reason for the panic in their eyes and the sadness in their smiles.
And Johanna wants to blame the Capitol - and she does, well, a little bit, anyways - but Johanna knows that some of the blame goes to her. For killing the tributes in that manner. For labeling herself as deceptive and sly.
But she had to come home, she had to do whatever it took, and why can no one see that she is just a girl who did what she could to return back to her family?
Didn't they make her promise? Didn't they tell her to do anything it took to come back home?
That's what she did. She did what she could, and she fooled them all, and it worked, and she won. She's home. So why is everybody looking at her like she did something wrong when she only did what they told her to?
So Johanna wanders into the forest for hours and hours - days, even - and stays there. Stays away from her family and their uncomfortable actions with her. Stays away from her own district that hated her, feared her.
Johanna finds a haven among the leaves and green and steady trunks, and she screams and howls like the animal she's become. She kicks and punches and scratches the trunks, feral, and her nails rip away, blood on her hands.
It reminds her only of the blood that spattered onto her body as she killed the tributes, of the droplets of blood dripping onto her hair, of the puddle of the boy's blood that she stood in when they announced her as the winner.
And Johanna screams and cries in the forest, where no one can hear her, cursing the Capitol for taking away everything she had even after she thought she had won.
No, this isn't fair, this isn't right; this is all wrong.
Johanna Mason was just a little fifteen year old who had enough anger to burn down the Capitol. But no, she was more rational then that; she knew better than to go and try and take down the Capitol herself, even with all that they did to her.
But she still had her anger. So she took it out on herself, scratching away layers of skin, biting deep into her bones, shredding away at herself.
Johanna Mason - the animal that was Johanna Mason when she won the Hunger Games - was destructive. And when she couldn't destroy others, destroy the ones she hated; she destroyed herself.
She went on a rampage, curling up on the forest ground, bleeding. She threw rocks at trees and swung her axe at the trunks, howling to the wind and crying with the rain. Johanna stomped into her home and gathered all the eggs she had every collected for her little cousins and crushed each and every single one of them in her fist, satisfying in the way the juice dribbled from her hand.
But it wasn't enough. It wasn't ever enough. Nothing would put out the anger she had for the Capitol - she was supposed to have a happy life with her family and she was never supposed to have killed with her bare hands and no, this wasn't fair, this isn't right; this is all wrong.
But even though Johanna's hate for the Capitol burned endlessly, the hate she held for herself completely consumed her.
She hated how she killed the children. She hated imaging their parents watching as she killed their children. She hated the blood that she couldn't wash off her hands. She hated seeing their eyes in her nightmares, and hearing their screams throughout the day.
Johanna hated how she caused all of this, caused her family to tear apart and caused families across Panem to fall to pieces. She hated how her little brother didn't have any friends because of her, and how Johanna could never tease Declan for having a girlfriend now. She hated how her older sister's boyfriend left her after he saw Johanna kill those children, and Johanna hated how she couldn't comfort Annaleigh at night while she cried because Annaleigh didn't want to see her anymore.
Johanna's rage and hate consumed her from the inside out, and it coursed through her veins like blood; like the blood of the tributes before she killed them.
There was nothing she could do to put out this anger and this hate. Not when she bled or cried or screamed.
Johanna seized the kitchen scissors and locked herself in her washroom, staring at the reflection in the mirror.
The girl in the reflection had bloodshot eyes filled with loathing and misery. Her long, chestnut brown hair lay in dirty strands, covering her face; the girl's face waxen and sunken.
Johanna lifted the scissors to her head, glaring at the reflection in the mirror, as if daring the girl looking back to do it.
Johanna grabbed a handful of hair and slowly closed the scissors over it. The long brown strands fell to the floor lightly, tickling her toes.
She cut each fistful of hair slowly, tears pricking the back of her eyes, watching as the long brown tresses wafted to the floor.
She cut until the hair was too short for her scissors to reach, and she was left standing in her bathroom, surrounded by her brown locks of hair on the floor.
The tears started flowing, despite her best attempts to stop them.
Her head felt lighter, but the weight on her heart did not.
In fact, as if it was making up for the weight her hair used to have on her head, all the thoughts and possibilities came rushing into her head, making Johanna sink down in her grief.
That girl had a little brother at home that only she could tuck to sleep.
That boy was the only reason why their parents kept on waking up every morning to this world.
That girl had a best friend whose older sister died in the Hunger Games, too.
All the possibilities, the scenarios, came flooding into Johanna's head, and there was nothing she could do to stop them from coming. Johanna curled up in the corner of the washroom and cried, the tears sliding silently down her cheeks, making no sound.
The children and their hopes and dreams. Their future and their family. Their friends and their memories.
Johanna took them all away when she killed them, and she couldn't handle it, couldn't handle the weight of this burden that they placed onto her shoulder when they put the victor's crown on her head.
So she cried and cried in the corner of her bathroom, because that was the only thing she seemed capable of doing.
This isn't fair, this isn't right; all of this is wrong.
.
Johanna hated the Victory Tour.
She hated going to the districts, seeing the faces looking up at her with disgust and loathing for what she did. She hated seeing the family and friends of the people that she killed, and she hated watching them celebrate her arrival like she was some sort of celebrity worth worshipping.
And every night, every district, every second - it reminded her being back in that dusty arena with blood on her fingers and a weapon in her hands.
Johanna hated the parties and she hated the stupid Capitol citizens with their stupid pills. She didn't want to join in on the festivities, and they might force her participate, but they can't force her to have a good time.
And there was no way in hell that Johanna Mason was going to celebrate what she did.
She didn't know what was wrong with this world, not when all these people were celebrating the deaths of twenty-three innocent children and the making of monster for one. Johanna didn't know why these people liked watching others die and laughed when they squirmed.
It wasn't human - these people weren't human at all - and they were all revolting and disgusting.
And the worst part was that Johanna was their newest idol.
This isn't fair, this isn't right; all of this is wrong.
.
As if Johanna didn't hold enough repulsion for the Capitol and its ways, she is introduced to another one of their sick forms of entertainment by President Snow when she turns sixteen.
And she tried, god, she tried to do it for her family.
But she couldn't.
The way he grabbed her, the very way his skin touched hers made her sick. From the tattoos on his face to her unnatural luminescence of his bright yellow eyes; the way he pushed her forcefully to him and the way he looked at her.
Johanna couldn't do it, couldn't handle it.
And it wasn't because she didn't love her family - she loved them despite their glances and fear - but her anger and repulsion took over her. She hated the Capitol, hated everything they did, hated everything they made her do - and she couldn't sit still and let one of them kiss her and take advantage of her.
No, Johanna Mason couldn't do that; couldn't kiss someone who loved watching her kill, and dishonour her family and district and just repay all the dead tributes by turning into one of the people that sent them to their deaths.
So Johanna broke out of the man's horrific grasp, ran to the train station and took the first train back to District 7.
But when she rushed to her home in Victor's Village, she was greeted by a stony cold silence.
Peacekeepers, everywhere in her house. Standing in a straight line, blocking her view of everything.
Before Johanna could do anything, or even open her mouth to question what was going on, four Peacekeepers grabbed her. She fought and kicked and bit, but the Peacekeepers had iron grips and they held her down like they were trained to.
They shackled her to a chair, her hands and feet chained to the legs and arms of the uncomfortable wooden chair.
Johanna screamed and yelled and protested, but the Peacekeepers ignored her, continuing in their robotic movements, not looking human at all.
Johanna screamed and shouted, until they brought out her aunt and uncle. The both of them were shackled and gagged, terror in their eyes.
All the screeches and curses died in Johanna's throat when they slit their throats.
Their bodies fell down, heads knocking together, the chains clanging. The blood seeped into their white, new carpet, staining it red.
Johanna could only open her mouth, only to have no words come out.
Her aunt and uncle, who always praised her for being such a sweet, hardworking girl. Dead, so easily. They loved their children and they loved her and Declan and Annaleigh just like they were one of their own.
Dead. Gone. Lying in a puddle of their own blood. Just like that District 1 boy when Johanna killed him. The Peacekeepers slit their throats just like how Johanna did to that District 1 girl.
The Peacekeepers dragged the bodies back into the room that they came out off, leaving a trail of sticky blood behind them. Somewhere in the house, a door slammed shut, and Johanna could hear screaming.
Mommy! Mommy!
Oh god, no, no, get them out, please, the children shouldn't be seeing this!
Johanna could hear the children's loud wailing and sobs, crying hysterically. She could hear Rhine's loud screams and Livi's heartbreaking sobs and Jeremy's wails.
The Peacekeepers returned, this time with Johanna's father.
"No, please, no, stop!" Johanna screamed hysterically. "I'll do it, please, don't, I'll do anything, please -"
The tears were pouring down her face now, and she could barely see through the tears.
"No, please, daddy, I'll do it, I'll do it, just stop -"
But the Peacekeepers didn't listen, and they did what they were here to do.
Slowly, agonizingly slow, they killed Johanna's father, slicing through his skin and bones with the kitchen knife. His blood poured onto the floor, and his cries escaped his mouth, despite his attempts to hold them in.
Johanna watched, watched as her father crumbled to the ground, watched as he died in front of her, watched as he took his last breath.
I love you, Jo, and you'll always be my little girl. Please don't cry.
Johanna sat, chained to the chair, watching as they brought down her family one by one, killing them in a new way, listening to the screams of her remaining relatives as they dumped the bodies in the same room.
They dipped her mother in the bubbling pot of acid that they took out, and she was nothing but dry bones with skin hanging off by the end of it.
I'm sorry mommy, I'm sorry, this is all my fault and I'm sorry that everything's my fault.
Johanna watched as her mother's smooth skin peeled away, as her brown eyes, pink with tears, widened in horror as she reached closer and closer to the bottom of the pot. Johanna watched as her mother's face contorted in agony, inhumane screams of pain leaving her lips.
Don't be sorry my little bird, we all make mistakes. I love you, and I'll love you forever.
They brought down Annaleigh next, and Johanna could hear her sister's struggles as they tried to drag her down to the living room. But the Peacekeepers overpowered Johanna's older sister, and Johanna was forced to watch as they beat her with the lamp and the fireplace poker and the chair.
No, please, stop - I'm sorry Lei, I'm so sorry, I never meant for this to happen and now you'll never get married.
She was nothing but a bloody pulp by the end of it, purple and black bruises covering her soft skin, tears falling uncontrollably from the eyes that used to be so warm, her brown tresses coated in blood.
It's not your fault, Jo, and I'm sorry for avoiding you. You're the best sister I could ever have.
Livi, drowned in a bucket of water, her little six-year-old body thrashing as they held her head underwater, her screams and cries coming out as gurgles.
STOP, stop, stop, don't do this - she's only six years old, she doesn't deserve it, please, take it out on me.
Her body was lying on the floor, strands of honey brown hair framing her sweet face, bloated and puffed with the water in her body.
What are you doing, no, stop, I don't like this, I want mommy and daddy, stop, no -
Little Rhine with tears still falling from her eyes as they wrapped their large hands around her throat and squeezed, her small pink mouth open in a silent scream, a gasp for air.
No, I'll do it, I'll do anything, please, not her, she's barely nine years old, I'll do anything you ask of me for the rest of my life.
Her skin was a sickly grey, her hazel eyes staring into space, never even seeing the day she would turn ten years old.
And no, Johanna screamed and cried and pleaded as they brought down her family, one by one, for hours and hours, until there was nobody left. They tortured the last of her family and they made her watch.
She watched as Declan cried out in agony when they broke all of his bones, howling in pain.
I love you, sis, I'm so proud to be able to say I'm your little brother.
She watched as they killed her youngest cousin, Jeremy, watching as his little four-year-old body twitched and spasm after they force-fed him poison.
What are they doing, Jo? I don't like this, is this just a game? This isn't fun, Jo! Make it stop!
And when the sun rose, the Peacekeepers finally unlocked her from the chair she was chained to and left the house, leaving Johanna all by herself in her large house with nine dead bodies.
They scattered their bodies into every room, leaving blood trails everywhere. Everywhere Johanna looked, she saw the dead body of another person she loved or the blood of the family that loved her, too.
As the sun rose, Johanna fell.
Johanna collapsed onto the floor, crying the tears that had been flowing from her eyes ever since the night started. She saw blood on her hands, and she screamed, not knowing whose body it belonged to.
She couldn't do it, and her weakness caused her family the sentence of death. Johanna's one moment of weakness and pride cost her whole family their lives, and it was her fault.
If only she put her anger aside. If only she bottled her hate and disgust.
If only Johanna Mason was stronger.
But she wasn't, she wasn't strong at all, and she was a liar and a fool for ever thinking she was.
Her family stared back at her with judging, hateful, empty eyes, and their screams and cries echoed in her ears.
The house, which had been a few hours ago, a symphony of screams and cries and pleads, was deathly silent.
And in Johanna's opinion, that made it all the worse.
She crumbled as the weight of the blame and burden and truth collapsed onto her shoulder; knowing that it was completely her fault that anyone she loved - anyone she could ever love was dead.
This isn't fair, this isn't right; this is all wrong.
.
"I told you the consequences of refusing my offer, Johanna." President Snow said, without even looking up.
Johanna didn't know what she was doing there, in the President's office. She had to do something, she couldn't just sit in her bloody, broken home and do nothing. But she didn't know what made her go to the Capitol, let alone demand an audience for President Snow.
It was hard for her not to kill him in that moment.
"Did you think that I wouldn't do it?" President Snow asked, his ice-blue eyes boring into her hard brown ones. "Did you think that you were a special exception to my request?"
Johanna stood as still as stone, tight lipped and glaring daggers at the man who ruined her family - who ruined so many families - trying to control herself from killing him.
"You are a fool, Johanna Mason." President Snow smiled wickedly. "Your strength is admirable, but your own stupid actions are the only things to blame in this situation."
Johanna curled and uncurled her fists, her fingernails drawing blood. She gnashed her teeth together and listened to them grate; she couldn't kill him now, despite the fact that every fibre of her wanted to - there were guards everywhere, and Snow was smarter than to let an angry victor into his office without a defense plan.
"And though I have thoroughly enjoyed your pleasant stay here in my office," President Snow says, "I must ask you to leave, Johanna. As President of Panem, I'm sure you'll understand that I am a very busy man."
Johanna didn't move, only continued scowling at him, imagining all the different ways she could kill the man in front of her. And Johanna knew that his death would be the one she felt no regret, no guilt, no grief, no sorrow for.
"You should go home, Johanna." He smiles cruelly. "Perhaps you should spend some more quality time with your family - you did win the Games for them, no?"
Johanna hissed underneath her breath, and willed herself to be strong - or as strong as she could be in this state.
"I'll celebrate the day you die." Johanna says, her voice shaking with anger and fury, glaring at him.
And without another word, Johanna left the Capitol and boarded the train back to District 7, back to her empty home, to the grief and the guilt that weighed her down.
This isn't fair, this isn't right; this is all wrong.
.
Johanna lived in the forest.
She couldn't stand being that house, not even after she buried the bodies and cleaned the blood away.
Not when she could still see the faces of the people she loved and killed. Not when she could still feel the blood on the floor when she walked, or heard the screams in the rooms.
Johanna retreated to the forest and slept underneath the stars, only returning to the empty home for food.
Johanna mentored the Games, and she did a terrible job of it.
She couldn't think straight when she was at the Capitol, and she couldn't stand seeing the kids train and fight. Johanna couldn't see past her blinding anger and the advice she gave was bad, and she knew it.
The other mentors looked at her with pity in their eyes - news traveled fast amongst them about the offer - and Johanna hated the pity almost as much as she hated herself and the Capitol.
She refused to speak to anybody, victor or citizen - and she watched her tributes die, year after year.
"Maybe you should try a little harder next year." Finnick Odair, one of the mentors for District 4 suggested after her second tribute died in the bloodbath.
Johanna was already sick and tired, and being at the Capitol did not improve her mood. The last thing she needed was Finnick Odair - the Capitol's icon and golden boy - to try and give her advice on what to do.
"I'm doing the best I can." She hisses underneath her breath.
"It's just a suggestion."
"Do you think," Johanna says venomously, "that just because you're the Capitol's golden boy, everything you do is perfect and amazing? The last time I checked, nobody from District 4 won ever since your half-assed victory."
Finnick did not back away from the seething victor's brown eyes, nor did he flinch when she snapped at him. Instead, he stood tall and looming over her, with patience and no intent of moving, making Johanna hate him even more.
Finnick stared back down at this furious victor, at the eyes that held pain like his own, at her haphazardly shorn brown hair, at the slight trembling in her lips.
"The Capitol broke us all, Johanna." Finnick said softly. "There is no winning."
And Finnick left Johanna staring, speechless.
Once again, Johanna remembered Snow's offer, and how he mentioned that other victors were given the same proposition. How stupid was she to not piece it together - Finnick Odair obviously took the offer and went through with it, unlike her.
Through her hate for him, Johanna could not help but to admire the strength that Finnick Odair had to follow through with the deal; the strength that Johanna could never have.
He said that there was no winning.
And Johanna knew that either path they were given was one filled with hopelessness, leading only to destruction. Nobody won against the Capitol, no matter what they did.
This isn't fair, this isn't right; this is all wrong.
.
The memories hit her like a bomb, exploding when she least expects it.
The dinner table, when Declan would make silly faces and Rhine and Livi would laugh, Jeremy trying to do the same. Her mother would smile and chastise them, and the whole family would laugh.
Early in the morning, when Annaleigh would kiss her cheek before going out to work at the paper mill; watching her aunt and uncle carve as she waited for her dad to walk her to the forest.
They hit Johanna, and every single time a happy memory resurfaced, a terrible one would quickly follow.
Her mother's skin sizzling as it peeled off, the sound of Declan's bones breaking; the thud of the bodies and the pleads that fell to deaf ears as it echoed throughout the house.
Johanna would remember the strangest details throughout random periods of the day; the exact shade of Jeremy's eyes, the dimple of Livi's left cheek, her aunt's whistling. They hit her like bullets, all the little things that she'll miss.
Annaleigh's ticks, Rhine's freckles, her father's callused hands, Declan's snores.
And in her nightmares, they all came back.
Their dead bodies, strung up and marching towards her, looking like they did when they just died - her mother's bones and unseeing eyes, the pale grey of Rhine's skin, the gaping hole in her uncle's throat. They marched towards Johanna, and she couldn't run away or turn away from their soulless eyes.
They spoke in an eerie, monotone voice, saying the same words over and over again.
All your fault.
And Johanna would see the Capitol man reaching for her, the tributes pleading for mercy, the blood on her axe, President Snow's ice blue eyes.
The giggles turned to wails, the laughter into screams, and the playful shrieks into pleads. The sweet, charming smile on Jeremy's smile turned into the cavernous gash on the District 4 girl's stomach. The gold in Livi's hair merged into the lustful neon yellow eyes of the Capitol citizen, hissing at her.
Her mother. Her father. Her aunt and uncle, and her three little cousins. Her older sister and her younger brother. The five tributes that she killed.
All of them, they died because of her.
They haunt her in her nightmares, and Johanna gets a restless sleep - opting to not fall asleep at all. The only time she even managed to sleep was when her body completely shut down, needing sleep desperately.
And even in the day, Johanna could see them all. Their screams surrounded her, and they came for her.
She couldn't erase them from her memory, and she couldn't forget their last moments before they died. The anguish and loss and hate pressed down on her, until she couldn't breathe.
The only way Johanna knew she was still breathing and alive was when she screamed, trying to rid her head of everything, of all that she's done in her life.
She wishes she never existed. She wished she never lived.
Johanna Mason spent her days in the forest, in bitterness and rage, screaming questions and wishes and curses to the trees and the wind, but no one ever replied.
This isn't fair, this isn't right; this is all wrong.
Thanks for reading!
Yes, I'm at it again with the reoccurring line, but with a different reoccurring line, if that makes any sense. I figured, if I did it to the first chapter, then I might as well do it for the next two. I hope you guys don't mind the weirdness of it all.
So yes, lots of Johanna angst in this chapter! What do you think about it? Again, I know, there are a bunch of characters, but they will be appearing in the next chapter as well, so it'd probably be best if you got them all down. Sorry ): And I know I kind of extended it quite a bit with the Peacekeepers-killing-Johanna's-family part, so I apologize for that, too. I couldn't really stop myself from trying to describe everything. Sorry!
Anyways, if you have any suggestions, feedback, comments, or questions, please feel free to leave it as a review! They are always appreciated and welcome and of course, it's nice to know that you're reading.
