A/N: WOW! Thank-you all for those amazing reviews! I never expected that kind of reaction to this story :) You are all incredible and the support means so much! Please, keep them coming guys!
So this next chapter is longer and flashback-y at some points, whoo!
Anyway I won't keep talking, on with the show!
Note: Flashbacks are italicized and the timeline is a little different in this story, so I promise it's intentional and not a mistake. Also, please excuse my mistakes this story is unbeta'd currently but if anyone is interested, let me know!
Disclaimer: Don't own anything, damn it :|
It's there again, that overwhelming, constricting feeling of nausea, dizziness.
No, there must be some mistake. It has to be! Prim is one name in thousands, it's not possible! I'm sure I'm close to either hyperventilation or passing out but before my mind can comprehend what I'm doing I'm moving forward, pushing through the crowd, desperately trying to reach Prim. Just as I emerge from the mass of people I see my tiny sister, her shining blue eyes and elegantly braided hair. She looked…strong, walking down the aisle towards the stage but I knew it was just a façade. I knew she had resigned to what she believes is her fate but this isn't what her life is supposed to be like.
Prim shouldn't be made to slaughter innocent children all for the Capitol's sick idea of entertainment. Even if the odds are in her favour and she makes it out of that damn arena, she should not have to live with the scars that will be etched into her body…her mind. She's only twelve years old! I run after her, hundreds of shocked eyes trained on me but I don't care,
"Prim!" I scream out to her, she looks back at me with her eyes widened in shock and then terror but the Peacekeepers flanking her push her forwards again. Two other Peacekeepers are suddenly right in front of me, their arms hooking around mine attempting to pull me back but I struggle against their grips and the words escape my mouth without a second thought,
"No! I VOLUNTEER!" I hear the sharp intakes of breath, the gasps as all eyes lock onto my panting form. I push the two Peacekeepers off me easily thanks to their now dumbfounded state, "I volunteer as tribute!"
I hear my heart beating in my ears, it's deafening but at the same time, I've never heard silence like this before. It's broken by Effie's shrill voice,
"Lovely! Come up here, dear!" She beckons me forward and I robotically begin to walk towards the stage in a sort of daze. I'm broken from trance when I feel Prim's arms fling around my legs, latching on as if she could physically keep me from moving. She's screaming and crying, her tears soaking into the skirt of my dress. I try desperately to shove her off me, trying to detach her arms from my body but she's begging me now,
"No! No! Katniss, you can't! You can't go! Please!" And she just squeezes tighter.
"Prim, let go. Let me go, now!" I say rather harshly, my sister's shrieking had me on the brink of tears and that is the last thing I wanted. I didn't want the Capitol to see that I was scared, that I was vulnerable and weak. I was about to open my mouth to tell Prim to get off again but I don't have to. Gale is crouching down in front of Prim and myself, he pulls her away from me and up into his arms. She starts thrashing around wildly, her small fists beating on his chest but he ignores her. He forces a steady voice, "Up you go, Catnip."
I nod slightly at him, my steely resolve returning and as I walk up to the stage my sister's voice drowns out. It's like my mind is shutting it off, the emotion I feel towards my sister's screams and I can't help but feel that the first step to becoming a tribute has been completed: emotion? There must be zero of it to survive these games. That's what made them so horrific, in order to survive even one day your humanity has to be switched off, it must be non-existent.
I finally reach the stairs, climbing them robotically before making my way to center stage to stand next to none other than Ms. Trinket. How I hated her chipper voice at this moment.
"Bravo! That's the spirit we're looking for! Now what's your name dear?"
I swallow, "Katniss Everdeen," I reply holding onto my steady voice.
"And I suppose that was your sister Miss Everdeen? Didn't want her to steal all the glory?"
I don't reply because I'm sure at this point all that will come out of my mouth is insults and profanities. They weren't to see how affected I am by their Hunger Games. So I square my shoulders and stare out in front of me, looking at nothing in particular.
"Well, lets give our very first volunteer a round of applause."
Effie begins to clap on her own as every other person in the audience is deadly silent. Then I see a girl in the front row, no older than thirteen, raise three fingers to her lips and then extend her arm out in front of her, and then every person in the crowd follows all kissing three fingers and holding them out for me. I didn't expect this reaction at all, it was so unlike Twelve to be defiant and rebellious and yet here they were. Every single person in the crowd had three fingers extended to me, even the gamblers so now I was really close to tears.
"Well, on with the boy tribute now, shall we?" She is too excited about this. About the prospect of sending two children to their almost certain death. She walks over to the other spherical bowl, the one containing the names of potential boy tributes and sticks her hand in. My head drops down to the floor slightly, awaiting the inevitable name-calling. And then she's reading out the name in animated voice,
"Peeta Mellark!"
My head snaps up at the sound of his name and I pray that I heard wrong or that it was just a bad dream. My eyes are frantic now, and I should probably be more worried about revealing Peeta's and my secret but right now I'm beyond caring. Besides, every single person's face was now turned toward him, the boy with the bread; my boy with the bread. My steal grey eyes immediately search for his only to find they're focused solely on mine. Internally, I look baffled, I don't show it as the façade of us being strangers is now firmly put back into place. He looks fearful but strangely more than that, he looks…relieved.
I suddenly feel the urge to vomit but I swallow the bile that's risen in my throat. I felt faint and right then I wanted nothing more than to scream at the universe and ask why it was doing this to me. It was inflicting the worst kind of pain on me and I didn't know how to cope with that
I was unprepared for what came next. The onslaught of emotions I suddenly feel are overwhelming. The most immediate one was guilt. During this whole time I hadn't thought of Peeta at all, not once. Maybe it was some form of self-preservation, maybe I couldn't bear the feelings of betrayal I would have when I stepped up to take my sister's place. In this moment I have no idea who I hate more: the Capitol or me. I was so consumed in myself that I didn't once wish or pray to any God that he wouldn't be chosen. To pray and hope the best part of me would stay safely in District 12 where no one could harm him.
Instead the boy who holds my heart and has since the first time we spoke is now walking towards me, as a tribute in the Hunger Games. Where we will be forced to fight to the death.
The rain was almost torrential, falling down in relentless icy sheets. My small, frail body was soaked to the bone. My father's old hunting jacket did nothing to keep the rain off me. My hair, free of its usual braid, stuck to my face and my sopping clothes clung to my body. My arms were full of old baby clothes that used to belong to Prim, I had unsuccessfully tried to sell them at the Hob.
The three of us had been living on nothing but boiled water and mint leaves for the past three days. As a result of my failure to provide food for my family, my sister was wasting away: her once sparkling blue eyes looked tired and desolate and she looked far too old as a result of her hollow cheeks. My mother remained in the same state she had for the past six months since my father's death and I was left, at fifteen years old, to take care of and provide for my family. And I had done nothing but fail so far. In that moment I had never felt more miserable or alone.
I dropped the clothes I had been clutching to my chest into a puddle as the smell of freshly baked bread from the bakery wafted through the air. The scent was so intoxicating that my feet began walking towards the back alley of the bakery. I spied a couple of trashcans and decided to take my chances in the hopes of finding any food scraps. I opened the lids of each one only to quickly realise they were all empty. Before I had the chance to place lid back onto the last bin, the baker's wife came out the back door and started screaming at me to leave at once.
She said something along the lines of, "I'm so sick of you Seam brats pawing through my rubbish! You should just starve to death, the lot of you!" She even went as far as to threaten me with the Peacekeepers finding out. I backed away from her then but I didn't get very far as I realized I had failed once again. I collapsed to my knees underneath a tree about thirty yards away from the bakery, I honestly intended to leave but my legs just couldn't seem to move. And then I did something I've rarely done at any stage in my life: I began to cry, my legs pulled up to my chest, arms wrapped fixedly around them and head resting atop my arms.
I'm not sure how long I'd been sitting there when I heard the back door of the bakery crash open loudly. At first I thought it would be that woman to shoo me off again but when I heard her screeching voice yelling at someone else I lifted my head out from arms and looked in her direction. I recognized the boy in front of her, all I knew was that he attended my school in the same year level, but I didn't know his name. We were too different; I was from the Seam and he was of the merchant trade. Unlike me, I think he had quite a few friends, he was always wearing this boyish grin on his face and I think he was genuinely liked by his peers. That was all I knew of him after years of schooling together.
He was of medium build, looked to be only a few inches taller than me but his body was more built than a lot of other boys our age, I assumed it was from all his years working in the bakery. He had dark blonde hair that fell in loose curls, some of them long enough to brush against his long, dark eye lashes. His straight nose, angular jaw and full lips only enhanced his already attractive features. There was no doubt in my mind that the boy was good looking. I wasn't blind, obviously and I knew that many of the girls at our school noticed as well. Currently, he was wearing a powder blue t-shirt that clung to his muscular torso snugly, grey chinos and a white apron wrapped around his hips.
I presumed the vile woman standing in front of him was his horrid excuse for a mother. The only way I could come to this conclusion was their eyes, they were the exact same colour blue. Only the woman's were cold and vicious as she screamed and gesticulated vigorously. But his azure eyes, were warm, gentle, kind and currently strong in his defiance. Not once did they stray from hers, never backing down; challenging her.
For the first time, since my father's death, this boy who had curly, gold locks and shining blue eyes gave me hope. Something about his strong posture, tensed jaw and rebellious eyes made me want to fight for something again. What that was I wasn't quite sure of but it was there, somewhere in my heart, nagging at me to keep going; to have faith. I could make out what she was saying now, the rain had silenced most of her other words to me.
She was yelling, "Feed it to the pigs you stupid creature! No one decent would ever buy burned bread!"
At her words I finally looked to assess what was in the boys arms. He held two loaves of bread that were very slightly burnt on one end of each loaf. He said nothing in return and this only seemed to infuriate her more, I pulled in a sharp breath when her slap landed swiftly on his cheek and echoed throughout the alleyway. I could see the large bruise forming already, the area around it turning bright red but he didn't even lift his hand to his face just kept staring at her intensely. I realised disgustedly that he must be used to this, to the cruel words and strong blows dealt to his body. I shuddered at the thought of this boy getting beaten for something as small as accidentally burning bread.
His mother disappeared inside the door at the sound of a customer ringing the bell and it slammed shut behind her. The boy exhaled in what looked to be relief before he turned his head back to the bakery door as if to check that no one was coming outside. It was then, that those warm blue eyes glanced at me and he began walking towards me out in the rain, his blonde curls straightening and sticking to his forehead much like mine. I began to panic and found that my mind was racing, why was he approaching me? Was he going to come shoo me off as well? What? I started to shrink back into the base of the tree the closer he came to me, my arms closing around my legs even tighter than before. Then, he was less than a foot away from me with the bread still held in his arms as he crouched down to my level, his cerulean eyes boring right into my grey ones from underneath long eyelashes. I found myself short of breath at the sight of how breathtakingly beautiful and kindhearted his eyes were.
He gave me a small smile that evoked a strange feeling in my stomach before reaching out to grab my cold hand in his trying my best to ignore the tingling feeling that it evoked. I could do nothing but stare at him in shock with my mouth hanging open in confusion as he unfurled my tightly balled fist and placed one of the warm loafs of bread in it. He did the same to the other and it wasn't until he had stood up from his crouched position that I could actually comprehend what he had done. But I was so startled by this foreign gesture that I couldn't form any words in my head so I just continued staring at him guardedly. He gave me a tiny but melancholy sort of smile before he turned to walk away. He stopped suddenly, however, after only a few feet and turned back to me. He stood there for a few seconds seemingly warring with himself internally before he obviously decided to say what he wanted. It was hard to make out what he said with the rain being so deafening but I heard it nonetheless,
"I'm sorry, Katniss…about your dad."
I gasped at his knowledge of my name, thanking the heavy rain for causing its inaudibility to his ears. But it was the words that preceded my name that had me reeling in shock. He said them with such sincerity and kindness that my eyes flittered up to search his for any hint of fabrication. But they were filled with such a genuine look of anguish and sorrow that my eyebrows flew to my hairline in shock and confusion. He turned and hurriedly walked back towards the bakery in the pouring rain disappearing through the door only seconds later.
The confused look on my face remained there for a long time after he'd left. I couldn't understand it. Why did this boy who I barely knew selflessly burn bread and get beaten to save my life? Only that wasn't the part that shocked me the most, for the first time when someone gave me their condolences and apologies in regard to my father's death, I actually believed them.
I watch that very same boy as he climbs the steps leading to the stage before standing to the right of Effie. When she tells us to shake hands, we turn towards the other and take each other's right hand shaking it firmly to their eyes but reassuringly in ours. I was glad for the forced gesture, I need nothing more right now than to feel Peeta's comforting touch, his eyes so full of love and adoration that no one but I am the recipient of. For just a brief second we were alone again, in the woods wrapped in each other's arms where no one could harm us. For a split second we were free of worry and trepidation and were just being. I'm brought back to reality however when the anthem of Panem begins playing in the square.
As soon as the anthem is finished the two of us are ushered into the justice building by Effie and into separate rooms on opposite sides of a long corridor. My head whipped around to see the door being slammed shut by a Peacekeeper, only to see it open again as Prim sprinted towards me. I bent down to her level just in time to catch her as her tiny arms wrapped around my neck in a vice-like grip. I pull back to look at her, her cheeks are stained with the tears she had been shedding only moments ago, her eyes were puffy and her skin a blotchy red.
I stroke her face soothingly as I promise that I will try to win for her.
"Gale will bring you game and you can sell cheese from your goat, don't take the tesserae, it's not worth getting your name in more times. Do you understand?"
She nods at me again and I kiss her forehead delicately. I stand up and walk over to my mother who was standing quietly near the door and grab her shoulders tightly.
"Listen to me, are you listening?" My voice sounds as intense as I'm sure my eyes look. She nods slowly but surely, frightened by harsh tone I was using. I continued on,
"You can't zone out again, I won't be there."
"I won't," she replies timidly, her eyes straying from mine.
"No, you can't. No matter what you feel, you have to push it aside and be there for her. Do you understand me?" My voice is rising now; I need her to understand how important this is. But then, strangely, she begins to cry and this is the first sign of emotion I have seen in her for a very long time. Right now, emotion is the last thing I need. I still don't trust my mother nor do I feel a great lot of affection for her but I hug her tightly to myself and steadily say,
"Don't cry, don't-"
And then a Peacekeeper is barging through the door hollering,
"Time's up!"
I let go of my mother quickly trying to get to Prim one last time but she is already being pulled out of the room kicking and screaming along with my mother by another Peacekeeper, I grab hold of her hand briefly before she's forced to let go and the only thing I can do is yell, "I promise Prim!" after the door has already been closed behind them.
My breathing is labored and my hands curl into fists as I try to ward off the various emotions that are beginning to overwhelm me. Surprisingly, the door opens again and my startled eyes reach Gale's as he rushes over to me and hugs me tightly, his arms squeezing tightly around my waist as mine lay atop his shoulders.
"I'm fine, I'm fine. I am." I insist shakily.
"I know," he replies but his voice is unsteady like mine. He lets go of me and places his hands on my shoulders, "Listen, you need to get your hands on a bow, if they don't have one make one, it's your best shot Katniss. You know how to hunt, you're the best hunter I know."
"Yeah, animals." I shake my head at him doubtfully, "Gale I-, I can't kill humans."
He exhales then, his grey eyes searching mine as if unsure of whether he should say what he wants to, "It's no different Katniss." His grey eyes, so similar to mine, are searching my face desperately. We're interrupted by a Peacekeeper indicating our time is up. I hug him again tightly and my panicky voice pleads,
"Please Gale, don't let them starve!"
"I won't, I promise!"
They're pulling him away from me now and I just wish I had more time, especially since this could be the last time I ever see my best friend.
"Katniss, remember I-" But the Peacekeeper has pulled him out the door and slammed it shut behind him. I have no idea what he wanted me to remember and I back pedal and slump down into a plush, velvet armchair. For the first time I actually notice the room in which I'm standing. It's the most luxurious room I've ever seen in my life. The table in the center is made of mahogany, the couches and armchairs are all velvet with gold trimmings, the various paintings that adorn the walls look expensive to say the least and I've never felt so out of place.
When the door opens once again, I am extremely astounded to see Madge Undersee walk in with a sense of urgency so unlike her usual character. I rise from the chair and she stops in front of me, looking up at me seemingly desperately. She skips all formal niceties and gets to the point, knowing that she didn't have much time. She unfurls her closed fist and reveals the gold Mockingjay pin I've seen her wear only a handful of times.
"They let you wear one thing from your district in the arena. One thing to remind you of home. Will you wear this?" She asks, holding it up for my inspection.
My eyebrows furrow in confusion. I have no idea why this means so much to her so I ask lamely, "Your pin? Why?"
She explains rather quickly, "The Mockingjay was created by accident Katniss. It was something the Capitol didn't plan for nor want to happen. It became a symbol of rebellion years ago, I'm not really sure why. All I know is that the rebels, the ones brave enough to stand up to the Capitol, would display the symbol everywhere as a sign of hope and uprising."
I never knew any part of this tale, I made a mental note to ask someone, maybe my mentor why the Mockingjay became the symbol of rebellion. And so I nodded at Madge and promised to wear it in the arena. She visibly sighed in relief and said, "Here I'll put it on your dress, all right?" She raises on her tip toes slightly and fixes the beautiful ornament to my dress. She kisses me quickly on the cheek and wishes me good luck before walking out the door just as it's opened by a Peacekeeper.
Peeta, Effie and I arrive at the train station that is currently laden with Capitol photographers and television crew. Effie stands and even poses for some of the cameramen whilst Peeta and I shoot each other annoyed looks at her strange antics as we stand at least a meter from each other. Once she is satisfied with he amount of coverage 'we've' received she hurries us onto the train.
I look over to Peeta standing next to me and my suspicions are confirmed, he is having the exact same reaction as me. Our eyes are wide, trying to take in the lavish compartment of the train and our jaws are dropped to the floor. The room in the Justice Building held nothing on this. Of course, Effie just breezes passed us as we stand stock still in the doorway, she's used to this kind of luxury after all. The train lurches into motion then, beginning our long journey to the Capitol.
The large compartment is full of comfortable looking couches and chairs all powder blue in fabric, at the far end of the cart there is a small bar with crystal tumblers and bottles on a silver tray. A television's mounted on each wall bar the back one but what grabbed both of our attention the most was the table in the middle of the room. I can barely see one patch of the brown wood anywhere on it as trays upon trays of various foods cover the surface. I have never seen so much food in my life, not even in the Hob. I turn to my left to gauge Peeta's reaction again but found he was still staring at the table piled with to us, what seemed to be manna.
I learned from Peeta not long after we first met that, to my surprise, even though his family owned the bakery he only received a little more food than I. He also said with a laugh free of humor that is it were up to his mother he would probably receive no food at all, thank god for his father.
We are snapped out of our mutual reverie and my odd musings when Effie informs us she is going to find our mentor Haymitch Abernathy and to make ourselves comfortable, waving to one of the many sofas in the room.
As soon as she was out of the compartment, I flicked Peeta's hand and his head whipped around to look at me, his eyebrows raised in question and slight annoyance. I smile a little at that, before jerking my head in the direction of the bathroom that the signs told us was in the next compartment over. He nodded at me before trailing after me into the compartment and then through the bathroom door.
Peeta shuts the door behind him and I walk over to the basins, turning on both taps so the water starts gushing out noisily. I then go over to the hand dryer, turning that on as well. I turn back to face Peeta who is leaning against the door casually with his arms crossed over his chest but wearing a confused look on his face. I flickered my eyes between him and the camera in the corner of the room rapidly and he soon caught on. The level of noise in the small room satisfied me and although they could still see us, we couldn't be heard which was the most important part.
I walked towards him then, stopping only a foot from him and he was no longer leaning casually against the door. His whole body was tense and his cobalt eyes were locked on mine anxiously.
"What is it? What's up?" He asked, trepidation lacing his tone. I keep my hands clasped firmly behind my back afraid I could accidentally give us away by caving to my instinct of stroking his face and telling him to relax. Instead I do only the latter and it worked, he seems to relax a little after I gave him a small smile also. There are so many things I want to say to him right now: I love you, I'm sorry, are you all right? But I can't, now was definitely not the time or place. Most of all, I just want to hold him, feel his strong arms wrapped around me, telling me it was going to be okay, that we'd both get out of this alive. But we can't and even if we could I'm not sure the words would be the truth and the thought almost brings tears to my eyes.
I remember the reason for which I brought him here, "We have to continue as we have been." I whisper, thankful he was close enough to hear me over the incessant noise of the taps and hand dryer. "They can't know. Peeta-, If-, if they did know…" I trail off unable to voice what I'm sure we both already know. It was simple: if they knew about the two of us they would do their very best to tear us apart, in any way possible which is why the façade of cool apathy had to be instilled at all times.
He nods solemnly at me, understanding but misery present in his eyes. I whimper as tears threaten to spill, the weight of the day finally seeping into my skin. His eyes flick over to me then from where they were previously looking over my shoulder and the anguish in his eyes in clear. I know exactly how he feels; we had never been so close yet so far away from each other than at this very moment.
"I'm sorry," he whispers and again I'm brought back to him saying those exact words the fist time I met him, his eyes filled with the exact same sorrow and heartache. We stared into the other's eyes, each brimming with tears and on the verge of them spilling out. Peeta did the only thing he really could and offered his hand to mine, I take hold of his large hand in my smaller one and he squeezes my hand reassuringly. To the cameras this would look like nothing than a friendly handshake but to me, it gave me all the love, reassurance and encouragement I needed to force the tears away.
We let go of each other's hand and I turn around to switch off the hand dryer and taps. Peeta holds the door open for me and I smile slightly at him before exiting the room. We both walk back into the lavish compartment we were originally in.
We sit next to each other on one of the blue couches, our backs stiff and hands held in our laps, not at all comfortable with our surroundings or our current situation. Peeta and I wait in silence for Effie to return and when she finally does she has in her tow one very drunk and disgruntled Haymitch Abernathy. I watch Peeta out of the corner of my eye and see his grimace at the man, who can barely stand, in front of us. The man that is supposed to be our mentor, the man who is supposed to increase our chances of surviving not dying.
A.N: Not much Katniss/Peeta (Peeniss) in this chapter, sorry guys! But don't worry, there's plenty more to come.
Anyway, let me know what you think, you're reviews are incredibly inspiring :)
