My heels click on the floor of the only remaining building in District 2, everything else is pretty much gone although I've got to admit they've been doing a pretty good job to restore things; mainly it's just rubble though. I've got one mission and that is to deliver this…whatever it is…a black melted piece of what looks like used to be a train part, to the man I work for…Gale.
Even his name sends shivers up and down my spine. He's tall, muscular from days hunting, dark hair with dark eyes to match and that scar…a trophy of the war. I've only worked with him a little over a year but I know him better than anyone who's ever been in my life. I've memorized that far off look he gets when the wheels in his brain are turning, the way he often sits alone thinking of the girl he used to love and his cries in the night…I know those only too well from the many dark hours we spend together.
Pushing open the door I spot Gale looking out the window at the rubble that once was District 2, "You'll only make yourself more depressed by looking at that."
"Flyfern," Gale says turning to me with a smile.
"That's my name," I respond, failing at being funny. I hold out what I know he's really excited about. "What are you using all this stuff for anyway?"
"Military equipment," responds Gale, putting this piece of train or whatever it is in a pile with the rest of it.
"Are we planning another war?" I question.
Not now. Not right after we won the last one. Can't we lay off for a bit, let people rebuild, get back on their feet? I'm used to Gale's go get 'em attitude but I didn't think he would be so eager for another war this soon.
"No, no, don't worry," Gale responds, taking my hand between his. They are rough and callused from years of using them. He can see the wild panic in my eyes. I lost my entire family in the final battle.
Suddenly the screams come back and the smell of burning flesh fills my nose. I can see them all, the children on fire. My little sister was burned alive in the second round of bombs. My father tortured for information by The Capital and my mother killed by Peacekeepers; large holes blown into her body by the guns. I witnessed it all. The memories will never leave. With out knowing it I begin to shake, great convulsions wracking through me as I begin to whimper. A scream erupts from my lips.
"Calm, clam, it's not real, it's over," Gale whispers, his strong arms encasing me one hand stroking my hair. "You're safe here...with me."
Closing my eyes I let the familiar smells of Gale; apples, oranges and the smoke that will forever cling to all of us, fill my nostrils. I might not have been on the front line like Gale but I was close enough having broke away from my regiment. I just couldn't sit around and do nothing. We often find comfort in the others touch having experienced similar tragedy.
"Have they asked you to do anything else for the day?" questions Gale who has been wary of my mental state after I tried to pitch myself from the top of the building we are currently in. I think he thinks I shouldn't be left alone for long periods of time.
"Um…no, just help you with bringing in supplies," I respond still clinging to him.
"Stay here, today. I want to show you what I'm working on," he says leaving me so he can bring up an image on the computer.
I slowly walk over to him, resting my hand on his shoulder. Staring up at me is what looks like human sized snares. How can he even be thinking of this right now? We've just won and he's creating death traps. Have I misjudged Gale; the one person who I put all my trust in? All I can do is stare up at him, wide eyed, completely confused.
"You weren't supposed to see those," Gale says quickly switching to some other security thing he's been working on.
"What the hell was that before, Gale? Those death contraptions I wasn't supposed to see?" I demand, temper flaring a bit. This makes me question what else he's been keeping from me.
"Flyfern, that was a thought a long time ago; I didn't know if it was over," Gale attempts to explain to me.
"Why didn't you just tell me? What happened to no secrets?"
"I didn't want you to worry."
"The only thing I've got to worry about is the fact the one person I actually trust isn't really as trustworthy as I thought."
I take off down the hallway somehow managing to get my heels off as I bound down the steps, hearing Gale hurrying after me. He catches up to me on the fourth floor, his arms wrapping around me, keeping me from going farther. My feeble attempts to beat his chest fail and eventually I just give up. What's the point, we both know I'm going to forgive him anyway. Without Gale I've got no one. With out Gale I'm not human.
"I only hid it from you because I didn't want you to panic, I swear." Gale says and I can detect no lie in his dark eyes.
Nodding I sigh, "I believe you but next time don't do that. I can take it no matter what it is." Gale nods leading me back towards the room I had run from.
For a long time we sit on the window seal, tracing visible scars on each others arms and other exposed bits of skin. Gale's are much more numerous than mine due to his whipping back in District 12. The one's that line my arms were caused by flying debris and the minimal amount of fire that licked at my left side. I turned out better than some. No skin grafting was required though I now have a large white burn running from my wrist to my shoulder.
"It's funny how scars work," Gale says absent mindedly as he runs the tip of his index finger up and down my largest scar. "Sometimes they remind us of a time we did something stupid other times they bring back memories of other people's stupidity. Yet at the end of the day they're just white lines and the skin of that scar is more perfect than the skin around it."
"Has anyone ever told you that you don't make much sense?" I question, running my fingers along the scar of Gale's neck causing the muscle underneath to twitch.
"A few times, maybe."
I laugh. It isn't a care free laugh of someone who's never been hurt before but it's a laugh none the less and it lights up Gale's eyes. He hasn't heard me laugh in a long while. I feel guilty being able to be happy when I know my family is dead and will never be able to feel again. This quiets me, pushing me back under the rock I very seldom come up from. Inside this pretend world I am safe, my emotions, those of happiness, locked tightly inside, sadness and guilt running wild throughout me.
"What are you thinking about?" questions Gale his lips on my ear.
"Does the guilt ever eat away at you?"
"Everyday, but you've got nothing to be guilty about."
"I sometimes get really happy and then the guilt swells up inside me, telling me I can't be happy because they'll never have that privilege again all those people who I killed…my family. It's like a monster inside trying to claw its way out and take the very last good thing I've got from me."
"What is this last good thing?"
"You," and then I do the unthinkable; I press my lips to Gale's.
His lips are rough but Gale's kiss is nothing but tender and passionate, his hand on my cheek the other intertwined in my hair. I keep my hands where they where, one Gale's neck the other caressing his cheek. I never meant to kiss Gale and after both of us pull away things will be awkward because that is how it always is when you kiss someone you're not supposed to. I stop; frightened by the pleasure I receive in this one kiss.
"Sorry, that was too forward of me," I mumble, looking towards the white floors, trembling slightly.
"Flyfern, you don't have to apologize." Gale places his lips over mine for a brief second before pulling back.
"You'd better get something done today or they won't let me stay up here anymore," I say moving back over to the computer.
Studying the new line of security meant to surround the different districts, and the enforcements used to make new buildings, I can tell Gale's been working on lots in the past year. I notice the security and weapons have more details put into it. He's an artist when it comes to creating these things. I only wish I was skilled like that. I can shoot a gun and hit a target smack in the middle but trying to design something or using a weapon I am not used to is disastrous. That's what I am…a disaster.