II
…
Katniss Everdeen.
The Kind Soul.
The Volunteer.
The Girl on Fire.
...
I knew from the beginning, that she was the one. There was no doubt in my mind. The moment her voice rang through that crowd of coal covered people, I knew she'd be the one that came out on top. She would win.
She had something over the others didn't…
a cause-
a drive-
a will-
a spark-
Yes, the other tributes had their families and friends, girlfriends and boyfriends to get back home to, but this girl had something else. She had something more important and significant to push her. She had her world. That little girl, her sister, Prim or Rose or whatever-her-name-was was everything to her. I could just tell by the way in which her body reacted to the girl's name being called, the way her voiced strained as she called out her own name in sacrifice. It was the look in her eyes that said it all though.
That little girl was all she had and she was all that little girl had - you could just see it.
That was why she volunteered. That little girl was all she had, she was her world. It was her responsibility to protect her, to take her place in the slaughter, to save her from horrors and brutality of the Games. It was her mission to keep her alive. And it was her will that would drive her to come out alive, too.
If she didn't make out, that little girl wouldn't survive.
Survive.
That was purpose of the Games. That was the purpose of our lives. And that girl was a survivor, it was just her nature.
That was why I didn't bother with my tributes. They weren't it. They had no chance. They weren't going to win the Games no matter how much the Capitol might adored them or how much training they had under their belt.
They didn't have the drive, the nature to survive, the spark.
They had the training and the power, but what did they have to come back to… a house they didn't need? a reason to boast more than they already had did when they were trainees? money they already had enough of? a family and friends that didn't care about them, but their winnings? a room of children that by the age of five knew how to kill with their bare hands to train? a title that was worth nothing more than the effort put out to announce them?
They had nothing in the world that stuck out to them.
They had nothing in the world that was worth living for.
It was when the opening ceremony came along she proved herself even more worthy of winning. It was there that she proved herself important, not only to me, but the Capitol. The eyes Capitol fondled over her. She was naturally beautiful. Her small petite frame, olive skin, lush dark hair, and speckled gray eyes of silver were just the most breathtaking I had ever seen. Yes, Cinna's designs helped, but there was without a doubt that she didn't need the flame to burn bright.
She was beautiful, but not just in her features, but the way in which she moved as well.
At training she fell into the shadows, but if you watched her close enough, you'd notice her eyes glancing over at the bow. She looked at it as if was hers.
Of course, my tributes were not smart enough to pick that up on this and I didn't bother to tell them. Why would I tell them? They had the training to help them triumph over the others yet they were too arrogant to think anything of it.
If you couldn't notice the obvious, you were good as dead.
So the eleven she scored didn't surprise me the least bit.
What did surprise me that she was how much of a naturalist she was in front of the cameras.
She was awkward, that was without a doubt. The Capitol might not have seen it, too distracted by her beauty, but the rest of Panem knew, they could tell that there in the silk and gems, makeup and lights she was out of place. It was a cute awkward though, like a child. That's why the Capitol saw her as the natural-camera-reliant, innocent, older sister from 12.
I had witnessed it, made note of it. I had first seen it in the way she looked away from the cameras at the Reaping and out to the boy that had pulled her sister away from her. I witnessed it when she had made her way into the tribute building from the train, the way she disappeared behind the boy from her district as the camera flashed. I had witnessed it as she enter the stadium at the opening ceremony and walked onto the stage at her interview, her cheeks turned a light shade of pink and she looked away down at her shoes as if she couldn't take the attention.
She was modest and humble… and utterly, completely awkward.
Haymitch had even said so, how awkward she was, himself when I had first met him at the bar for drinks.
Haymitch.
I'm not sure why that man dealt with me. I was the enemy. I was from 2 and he was from 12. I was the man who had killed his tribute before the first day was over during my Games.
He dealt with me though.
I was shocked when Effie had informed me that he decided to meet me the first night for drinks. I'm sure he knew. He knew I wanted to get her out of the arena just as much that little girl back in the district didn't want her to leave. He had to know by the look of my face when he had caught sight of me in the tribute center. He had to have known or else he wouldn't have agreed to meet me, there'd be no other reason for why he asked, "Why?"
And if I hadn't been sure that he knew I was entirely captivated by his tribute I wouldn't have honestly responded, "Because she has the right to live."
After that, we met nightly. We said few words, but it was enough. We had the mutual understanding that she would survived.
I would watch over her from my station during the Games, hoping for the best, and Haymitch was going to… try.
Hell, the man even sobered up.
When she entered the arena, that was the worst moment of my life. As the number slowly diminished on the screen I knew this was it. Life or death. She would either make it out alive or she'd be sent home in a wooden box.
The moment the number "1" diminished in the sky, she went off. Yet she didn't go sprinting for the Cornucopia like the others. She went off in the complete opposite direction. She disappeared into the woods, far away from any harm. Six people died in the blood bath.
On the second day, two more tributes were killed.
It was on the third day that the boy was killed, the other tribute from her district. Mellark, Peeta Mellark. That moment changed everything.
Especially after his universal announcement of his love for her during his interview with Caesar, things had been tense. He loved her. It wasn't a front to get the attention of the Capitol like it did, it was real. His declaration of love was the last thing he had that held value as a human being. And the boy he was, he knew he wasn't going to get out of there alive and so he took his chance and let her know how he felt, a chance that I assumed he hoped would help him get her out of there alive.
Yet, as much as he loved her, she didn't return the favor. All of Panem knew that - not really, not in the beginning. The Capitol's hearts were broken the day they found out, though. Not only was it the boy's death that tore them apart, but the video they released of Katniss slamming up against the wall after his interview, shouting at him shortly after his death.
She didn't love him, but she cared about him.
The boy had joined the careers on the first day. They were using him, but I suppose he didn't think too much of it. The only logical reason I could think of why he joined them was that he thought he could possibly save her if he had them on his side or delay her to-be death.
It was on the third day that they had chased her up a tree. The only problem was they couldn't get her down. They tried to climb the tree, they tried shooting at her with the bow and arrow, and they even tried chopping down the tree with an axe. All attempts failed miserably. That's when the boy from 1 pulled out his knife and stabbed the boy through the throat.
She watched as her only connection, link to her home was slaughtered before her own eyes.
They used the boy as a source of torture.
That night they camped out at under the tree, left the boy's body seated up against the tree, craved and bloody. That night she killed two of them with a Trackerjacker nest that was in a nearby branch. That night she required the bow and arrow. That night she changed.
From that day on she killed one person a day.
She was the only person that killed over the next twelve days.
She killed fourteen of the twenty-three tributes. She triumphed over my record of nine kills.
When she killed my tribute, number twenty-three, I was beside Haymitch on the hovercraft. Together we watched as made her final kill.
It was a horrific sight, not the kill, but her. She wasn't the same girl that shouted at the top of her lungs to save the life of her sister. She wasn't the same girl that was meant to be the runaway lamb on the slaughter. She was a killer, a cold blooded killer. Her frame was thin, thinner than before, sickly thin. Her hands soaked in her doings, red. Her face was expressionless, emotionless. And her eyes were vacant, completely lost without her soul.
There was no more spark.
In that moment the cannon sounded I stepped to the door, but Haymitch stopped me.
He shook his head.
I was utterly stunned. He couldn't stop me. I was in too deep to pull myself away from her now. She was far worse than broken. She was just a girl. She wasn't supposed to be here. She was supposed to be with her sister, attending school in the winter, and fighting for her life on a smaller scale. She wasn't supposed to be here, bloody and broken. She wasn't supposed to be the next me.
"I can't let her become me," I spit at him angrily, pushing for the door.
"I'm going to do everything in my power to make sure that won't happen, boy."
"Haymitch-"
"If you get involved in this, boy, you'll be at risk."
"I'm already in-"
"Boy."
I looked him in his eyes and I knew he was being honest with me. Yet he knew by the look in my eyes that I wasn't one to give in.
Letting out a breath, he stepped to the door, two Peacekeepers in tail.
They brought her back to the hovercraft in a matter of minutes. She was shaky and lost. I could tell she didn't know anymore, her mind was too shot. Her soul had been torn from her body and she didn't know what or where she was anymore, figuratively and literally.
She was broken.
I had to notion to step forward into her line of vision and make myself known. I don't know what I was thinking of doing when she saw me. I didn't know what I thought I was going to say to her either. All I knew was that I had to save her. I had to seen, I had to make myself known to her, that's all I knew.
Yet the moment she turned her focus away from Haymitch toward my direction, one of the Peacekeepers drew a needle. He pierced her in the arm, sedating her.
I don't know if she saw me, she could have, there was the possibility, but by the time the Peacekeeper withdrew the needle she was gone. Her fame loosened as her hands unclenched. Her eyes rolled back into her head and her legs fell out from under her.
I lunged forward, catching her before she could clash against the metal floor.
And in that moment, as my arms wrapped around her, I knew.
She was worth it all.
I knew I had stepped into a world of the unknown. There would be risk and inquiries that we would be faced with - possibly. Two opposing districts coming together, it was scandalous - possibly. And if there was more, it would be worse - possibly. All eyes would be on us and the tiniest mess or event could, would ruin her, me, us - possibly. In that moment I knew there was no possibilities, I was willing to truly risk everything for this girl.
