I don't remember much from training. The few days we went there became a blur to me. I learned snares, fire building, even a little bit of archery, but mostly I stuck to wrestling. It was a more fun way to pass the time than to squat with the brainiacs over by the knot-tying table. And when I watched each Career tribute show off their talent, I mentally assessed how I'd take them down. My father's words began to make more sense. Reveal nothing. Don't show them what you can do, because then they'll know how powerful or powerless you are. They'd never know how strong I was, or how surgical I could be with an axe. No, I realized slowly, I'd be the weakling. Let them sort themselves out first.
My plan firmly set, I pretty much bombed my performance for the judges. My score was an eight, not too shabby considering they didn't see me throw an axe. Jox threw some words around like "sponsors" and "attitude problem" but I mostly ignored him. Harken must've showed the judges he could toss an axe, because he scored a ten. Goodie for him.
As we sat down to dinner, the awkward silence in the room was deafening and annoying. "So, Harken, do you have any siblings?" Lilac asked suddenly, looking to the pale boy.
He shook his head. "No, just me. My parents didn't really wanna raise too many kids, what with the Games," he muttered, sipping another spoonful of his soup. Lilac smiled sadly, nodding her head.
"And you, Johanna?"
"Trying to get rid of me already?" I asked, a playful grin on my face. As Lilac stuttered to respond I held up my hand. "My brother's name is Arbor. He's eleven. He likes to play Flips and loves to go to school, for whatever reason."
"That's wonderful that he likes to learn," Lilac gushed, taking a long sip of her wine. "Too many children nowadays don't appreciate the fine process of education."
I rolled my eyes. "That's because nowadays, kids are rounded up once a year and ritualistically murdered." Lilac's mouth closed, her expression turning sour. Great, now I felt bad. "But yeah, he uh, he likes to learn about District Seven's history."
Jox snorted. "What history? Our stupid excuse for a District has no history." He wasn't exactly wrong, but he didn't have to be such a jackass about it.
I glared at him, feeling a slight twinge of hurt pride at his remark. "He likes to learn, okay? Shut the fuck up."
"No, you shut the fuck up, girl," Jox replied angrily. "You're probably going to die tomorrow, you know that? And you didn't listen to a word I said. At this rate, Harken's going to kill you and he can barely swing an axe without looking like a propeller that's missing its hovercraft."
Harken's eyes went wide as he turned to look at Jox. He was hurt, no doubt. Not that Jox was wrong, but still, it wasn't a nice thing for a mentor to say. Lilac threw her napkin down and raised from her seat. "That's quite enough, Jox. You are excused from the table." Jox looked over at her, taken aback at her sternness. "I will not sit here while you insult these two young people just because you feel above everyone. Good for you, you're a victor. That doesn't give you the right to treat everyone like yesterday's trash." Lilac looked at Jox expectantly. "I said you were excused."
Tail between his legs, Jox angrily stalked off toward his room. Harken and I shared a look of astonishment and amusement, and Lilac sat down quietly. She began sipping her wine again, her feathers seemingly unruffled by Jox's little outburst. I smiled at her and she caught my gaze, smiling back. At least someone was on our side.
My last night in the center, I took the elevator up to the roof. The edges were filled with flowers, but over them you could see the ridiculously ornate expanse of the Capitol. As I leaned over the edge, I saw the glint of the force field below me. No killing myself tonight, I mused to myself with a chuckle. I leaned my elbows on the railing, twirling my bracelet around my wrist. I hadn't seen too much of Lilac since my interview with Cesar, aside from her shooting Jox down at dinner. Jox had mentioned something like she was upset about our venture into the ring, but he didn't care about her absence anyway. I imagined she was frequently upset, whether it was sending kids into a death trap or finding a smudge on her make-up. Capitol people's priorities were fucked up.
"It's a nice night," a voice called from behind me. I instantly recognized the careful intonations as Lilac's lilting words. I could even smell her. She smelled, not surprisingly, of lilacs. But real ones, not the manufactured scent of flowers Capitol people seemed to bathe in. She smelled like actual lilacs, growing in the fields of grass around my district.
She came to rest next to me, imitating my pose. Her look was less visually offensive than usual. She had traded in her green tint for a more natural beige one, her hair (or wig) a mix of green leaves atop a brunette weave. I smiled at the revelation; she looked like trees. Her way of showing what team she was on. I looked up at the sky. The stars were barely visible because of all of the artificial light of the Capitol. "It would be nicer if you could see the stars."
"Are they bright at home?" she asked, her own bright green hues staring up into the night.
"Yeah." I closed my eyes, trying to picture the vast blanket of stars I used to see at home. When you could climb to the top of the tree, the stars weren't obscured by the canopies of the giant oaks. And it was beautiful up there. I pulled my hands to my face, inhaling the pungent scent of my bracelet as I tried to recall the look of District Seven. It felt like ages ago. "If you took your axe out, sometimes you could cut the top few branches and really open the sky up. It was bright like this, but just because of the stars and the moon. The moon is so fucking big," I gushed, and looked to Lilac. She looked only slightly taken aback by my language. "Slayer loved to howl at it. Sometimes I joined him."
"Slayer?"
I grinned. "My wolfhound." Lilac looked appropriately terrified at the prospect of the wild animal. "He was abandoned as a pup, so I raised him. We do everything together. ...Did everything together. He's a loner, like me," I added, a tone of sadness in my voice that I had not intended. "I'm going to miss him."
"I'm rooting for you, Jo," Lilac whispered softly, as if it was a giant secret she was trying to keep from the stars.
"Well duh, who else would you root for, the fish people from Four?"
She rolled her eyes at my retort. I furrowed my brow as I watched her come up with words. Whatever she was trying to say, she was struggling mightily with it. "No, I mean, I'm rooting for you, Johanna." She wavered. "Only you." Off my raised eyebrows she suddenly looked embarrassed. Her cheeks flushed a deep crimson, and I couldn't help the small grin on my face. "I obviously want Harken to live but, I know only one of you can survive. I want you to know...that I hope it's you. Please do not tell him. It's against the rules, not to mention extremely unfair, for me to play favorites."
I made the motion of locking my lips and tossing the key over the edge of the roof. We returned to staring over into the city, which looked like a venomous snake from this distance, glistening and slithering through the streets. Revelers, I noted with a sneer. Partying because a lot of kids were never going to see their homes again. Partying because they had money on the strong ones. Partying because they'd never be staring into the eyes of their own killer, or their victim.
"Are those your real eyes?" I asked suddenly. I had been curious since the train, and no time like the present to ask, since I was probably within a few days of being on a slab. "I don't mean to offend you, but I know you Capitol people like to mess around with your faces so..."
Lilac looked surprised and not just a little offended at my question. "Y-yes," she stuttered, ducking her head. "My eyes are real. A lot of people ask me that," she admitted with a proud smile. "And they're always very jealous."
"I'm sure," I remarked, rolling my eyes. "People here are jealous of everything they don't have. Even though they already have more than most." Lilac nodded solemnly. I knew I was insulting her as well, but I hoped she understood I didn't mean her specifically. The whole place oozed gluttony and excess, and even though I wasn't bitter toward their wealth, it was pretty abhorrent in general considering the wasted states of a lot of districts I had heard of: the poor farmers in Eleven, or the dirty miners in Twelve.
We stood there for what seemed like hours until she finally turned to me. "I should go back inside," she said suddenly. Her eyes were rimmed with red. She was crying. Damn, I should pay more attention. "So should you. Attempt to get some sleep before tomorrow. I know it will be hard, but the first day in the arena is always horrible. Best to at least have a rested jump on the other tributes." She gave me another forced smile, but it did not reach her eyes. She was actually sad for me. Not just pity, but genuinely despondent about my situation.
Without thinking I grabbed the back of her neck, pulling her into a kiss. She gasped in surprise, but I used my superior strength to keep her in place as I moved my mouth against hers. It wasn't long until I felt her kiss me back, the tension leaving her body slowly, her tongue darting out to swipe my lower lip. Not that I was a prude, but I hadn't ever kissed anyone before that day on the roof, contemplating my death. But it felt amazing and definitely something I could get used to. I used my other hand to cup her face, pulling away my lips and resting my forehead on hers. She panted, out of breath from both our kiss and probably shock.
"I'm sorry," I whispered, running my fingers through the few strands of her hair that wasn't swept into her intricate up-do. "But I'm probably going to die soon and I needed to feel something. Someone." She nodded, her hand clutching her heart. I bit my lip and then took off for the door, quickly making my way back to my room. I didn't get any sleep that night.
I was out at the breakfast table in my gear by the time morning was breaking on the day of the games. I was nibbling on some smoked meat, the taste reminiscent of the many meals I had shared with my family around a small fire pit in our backyard. Anything I or my father had caught would be smoked or roasted; people in the lumber district loved their fires. I wondered if I'd ever taste it again.
Jox came out first. He had stopped trying to mentor me since the little affair at dinner. He chose to engage me in small talk instead that morning, which I obliged him. Why go out looking like an asshole? Harken came out second, also donning his skintight gear. He was so nervous I could practically smell the fear on him before he even reached the table. Embarrassing. Lilac emerged last, again in her green-tinted make-up and the same forest-style wig she had on the night before. She was completely unable to meet me gaze, which made me grin even more. Something about undoing this tightly wound Capitol woman made me both itch with excitement and just more than a little smug.
It wasn't long before we were escorted into the room with our stylists. Mine were complete dolts who had dressed me in bark or something for the chariots, and now were trying to make me look feminine with copious amounts of rouge. Lilac walked in while I was being dolled up, her cheeks burning red again at the sight of me. I smiled seductively as one of them tried to put lipstick on me and she made a small mewl in frustration. I glared at her, and she cowered. Lilac tried to stifle her grin at the exchange.
"No no," she finally protested, elbowing her way into the stylists. "You're making her look like a puppet. She needs to look menacing, not like a doll. Think danger, think spontaneous, wild. Think..." her voice trailed off before she snapped her fingers in delight. "Wolf."
The stylists ooh and aah-ed at her suggestion, closing in on me and undoing the crap they had done to my face. Within a few minutes they were done, standing back to admire their handiwork. Lilac's lips grew wide and she dismissed them with a wave of her wrist. They began to protest – it was usually the mentor or the stylist who put the tribute into the arena, not the escort. But I'm sure Jox was with Harken, and my stylist was an idiot. Lilac waited patiently until they were gone, then turned to look into my eyes. "You look wonderful," she said warmly. "And also terrifying."
She spun my chair so I could face the mirror. They had put a lot of eyeliner around my wide, brown eyes, with grey and white flecks coming from it in a burst. My lipstick was a blood red, I suppose to imitate a wolf's jaws filled with blood. I did look pretty terrifying, but it also felt familiar. And right. Like this is how I was supposed to look.
I laughed at my reflection, hopping off the chair and turning to sit on the bench to wait and be summoned. Lilac sat down with me, wordlessly clasping her hand in mine. We sat there in silence, her hand in mine until the Announcer's voice boomed into our space. I stood to go to my platform, but Lilac didn't let go of my hand. "You can't come up there with me, Skylark."
She shook her head, tears streaming freely down her face. She gripped my hand so hard I thought she was going to break it. "Please. Don't. Die," she choked out between sobs, letting me go slowly. I squared my feet on the platform, closing my eyes as the countdown began. Five...four...three... The glass closed down around me. I opened my eyes and looked at my escort, giving her a grin. I winked at her and she began to sob even harder. Oops.
Suddenly I was jerked upward, thrust up what felt like around seventy feet. I was outside as the glass came down around me. The field between the platforms and the Cornucopia was pure mud. Thick, dirty, wet mud. I grimaced. Anyone without the leg strength to push through this was as good as dead. After the field of mud, I saw thick trees. Good, I thought. At least it wasn't a fucking desert. Trees I could do. Trees was an advantage.
My eyes narrowed toward the Cornucopia. I saw tons of backpacks, stacks of knives and swords, and finally, an axe. Nobody except Harken would go for the axe, I surmised. Not me though, I was going to get the fuck out of there immediately. Grab supplies and head toward the nearest thicket of trees.
The cannon shot propelled me forward. I was not unaccustomed to mud, so I had no problem plodding my way toward the Cornucopia with a bit of speed. The Careers plowed through it with no problem, as if they'd been running in mud since they were able to walk. Stupid cheating Careers, I thought bitterly as I made my way toward the center of the room. I arrived first, grabbing two backpacks and then taking off into the woods. I saw a knife go flying past me, the glint of metal obscuring my vision. I even heard the whiz as it passed my ear. Holy shit.
"Forget about her," one of the female Careers yelled. "She's a weak link." I grinned as I made me way into the forest, stopping to scoop up the small knife they had thrown that stuck into the mud. The mud finally gave way to steady, packed soil so I kept running. I ran until my lungs were on fire. After about forty minutes of a dead run I stopped, nearly collapsing on a tree. I slid down the trunk, sitting on the ground, panting hard. I didn't have any weapons, I realized, except for this tiny knife. Anyone with a bow and arrow would have me, not to mention anyone good with a sword.
But a knife, I realized, I could at least make something with. I dug into my backpack, revealing a small flask for water, a sleeping bag, and a small vile of some kind of balm. The other backpack was a bottle with two pills and three small biscuits. Not too bad. I heard cannons going off rapidly, but I didn't stop to listen to how many. I didn't care. It was all about evasion.
I allowed myself to rest for around an hour, then picked up my things and tried to head toward some water. Fresh water and a little shelter would be all I'd need to wait out the rest of the tributes. Once I came upon a small stream, I looked up at the trees. Oddly enough, there weren't any branches below about ten feet up. They didn't want us to climb them, I figured. Well fuck that because I can climb trees like a squirrel and I intended to. I found some long, thin pieces of wood and began knotting them into a long, braided rope. I pulled hard at the edges and it didn't snap. I wrapped the rope around the tree, using it and my legs to push me upward. After a brief struggle I reached the large limbs of the tree, and I settled into a small nook near the trunk. Night descended unnaturally fast, so I curled into my sleeping bag to try and ward off the deep cold.
The Capitol theme cut into the silent sounds of the unnatural night, jerking me to attention. I watched the sky as the tributes who had fallen flash before me. One male Career from District 1. Both tributes from District Three. One fishboy from District Four. Both District Five tributes. One tragically little girl from District Eight. Both tributes from Nine. The male from Ten. The female from Eleven. Both tributes from Twelve. Thirteen lives, gone within just a few scant hours. Twelve remaining tributes, including myself. The career from District 1 and the pair from District 2 were probably together, I imagined. District Four may have combined with Six. I had no idea really who was where, really. I only knew that I was up in this tree, momentarily safe from the mayhem below. I wondered if Harken got his hand on the axe. For his sake, I hoped he had.
I sawed off a small bump from the tree, pulling my knife from the pants of my outfit. I began to slowly carve away at the wood, making intricate details in the raw material. I always found the process soothing. My father had taught me how to carve after I had gotten sent home from school for being in a fight. My temper would be my downfall, he said, if I didn't learn how to channel my aggression. So I took to his favorite hobby – woodworking. He wasn't as good as Crazy Eyes, and soon I had surpassed him in skill. He was proud. It was one of the few happy moments my father and I shared, since he was usually gone most of the day in the woods. Crafting little trinkets was another way I helped prevent myself from taking out tessera. People would give us food or grain in exchange for my making them little presents out of the different woods surround our home.
The only person I had ever made one for willingly, aside from my family, was Annabelle. Shortly after her parents died, the winter celebrations were beginning. It was pretty much the only time we were allowed a little bit of celebration in Seven, so it was very well attended. Usually each family gave each other gifts, most of them homemade. I knew that year Annabelle wouldn't be able to get her brothers and sisters anything. It had been hard enough to leave school and take up a job sorting lumber for transport, never mind making gifts for a bunch of kids.
I showed up at her house one night, a bag of about eleven little wooden tokens in my hand. When she answered the door, she was perplexed. "Johanna? What are you doing here so late?"
I thrust the bag at her. Why am I so fucking awkward? "I made you these. For the celebration. For your brothers and sisters. And there's one in there for you." She took the bag slowly, peering into it. The figures I had made were pretend guns, flowers, and one intricately designed elephant. Annabelle loved elephants. Though I was unsure any still existed, I figured she'd like to have her own.
She pulled the elephant out, tears springing to her eyes. I had done a really good job on it. Spent in inordinate amount of time, on it as a matter of fact. "Thank you," she whispered. Suddenly she threw her arms around me, hugging me so hard I couldn't breathe. "This is more than I could have asked for. I can't repay you for this."
"You don't have to," I objected, stepping away from the door. "Just, um, you know. Have a little fun at the celebration, okay? Don't bring everyone down," I responded with a small smile. Annabelle smirked at my teasing, her face flush with happiness. I suddenly felt nauseous. Weird.
After a few hours, I smiled proudly at my new creation: a lilac. The wooden lilac looked so real I almost felt like I could smell the flower from my position up in the tree. My heart ached. I missed home. I missed Slayer. I missed Annabelle. I even missed Lilac. I smiled sadly at my wooden flower. I held it to my lips and smelled it, trying to will myself to smell the real thing. A parachute appeared almost out of nowhere, fluttering and settling on my lap. I cautiously opened it, and it revealed a small, cylindrical steel hunk of metal. I looked at the note. See the stars more brightly with this. - L. I traced the note with my fingertips, trying to fight back the tears in my eyes. I dropped the note into my backpack, focusing on the metal cylinder. See the stars? I gripped the handle and suddenly the object sprang to life, revealing a small, but hefty axe. My eyes widened. A weapon. A weapon I could use. I closed the axe up quickly, shoving it into my outfit. Maybe I would get out of this alive.
It was another full day before I saw another tribute. The previous day I had seen the deaths of four more tributes, leaving only seven other people in the arena aside from me. Harken was still alive, too, somewhere. I was not in any way going to try and find him. Rather, I was settled near the rocks of the small creek I had used for fresh water, with a shiv in my boot that I had whittled with my knife, my concealed axe in the waistband of my pants. Suddenly I heard a loud scream come from about twenty yard behind me, followed by a cannon.
I shot up, gathering my things as quickly as possible. But it was too late. The three remaining tributes were already running full force toward me. A Career from Two, and all the other remaining tributes. Harken, I realized sadly, was not among them. But before I could get lost in too much melancholy, I began to run.
"Nowhere to hide now, tree girl," one of them mocked from close behind me. "If you want your axe, you'll have to get it out of your friend's skull." They all cackled, and I kept running. Finally I came into small grass field, where I of course promptly tripped over some loose stones.
I turned over onto my back, backing up as quickly as I could. They closed in on me quickly. This was it. Suddenly, it was like a switch flicked in my brain. I wasn't scared anymore. I was pissed. I reached behind me and pulled out the metal cylinder. I gripped it hard and the axe shot out. I whipped it in front of me, catching one of the tributes in the shoulder. I used the leverage of the metal inside his skin to pull myself up, throwing him down in the process. I quickly pulled the axe back and sliced his head clean off. Blood spurted up out at me, soaking my shirt and my hair. I turned to the other tributes, who were now in defensive stances.
With a shrill scream I came at them, axe high above my head. I swung it down, slicing the Career from Two's arm clean off of him. He gasped in agony, his exposed arteries pushing more blood toward me and he fell to his knees, then face down into the grass. Another tribute used my momentarily stunned moment to slash me with a small dagger, creating a long gash from the bottom of my neck, across my clavicle to my arm.
I swore under my breath, stumbling back a few feet. I repositioned my hands, using my axe to catch her between the legs, and I ripped the axe upward with force. I just about cut her in half, her face splitting before my eyes. More blood. Someone hit me in the head and I fell to the ground. Before I could get attacked, I swung the axe out, catching the attacker square in the head. He fell back, and I pushed myself up from the ground. Five more. I tore the axe from his skull with a sickening crack and whipped it over my head like a spinning seed twirling from the tree to the ground. I pulled it down, slicing another tribute's head off. More blood. I chopped off another head. Three more. A swing, a cut, a cannon. A swing, a chop, a cannon.
Without a beat I swung around in a circle, looking for the last tribute. She was running toward the trees. Nope. I lifted my axe and hurled it as hard as I could. I hit her directly in the back of the skull. Her limp body fell forward, and I fell to my knees. I could barely see through all the blood in my eyes. It hurt like hell. It was beginning to dry in clumps in my hair. I looked at my hands, they were coated in blood, too.
The Announcer boomed above me. I had won. It was all over. I began to laugh. And not just a small, disoriented laugh. Like a huge, crazy person, I-just-slaughtered-a-bunch-of-kids laugh. I'm not even sure when I stopped laughing. Not when I was taken by hovercraft. Not when I was in the infirmary being cleaned and stitched up. I continued to laugh. The nurses looked at each other, wary of me.
They should be wary of me. I'm a fucking killer. They brought me back to my room at the training center, the door of which was being guarded by an Avox. Did I really need a guard? Probably, I realized, because I'm a fucking killer. I kill people. She let me into my room, and I looked at her. I wondered why she was here. Was it worse than what I had just done? What had she done that was so terrible that they'd cut out her tongue and force her into servitude? Was that better than being dead? I bet she wished she was dead. I bet she wished I'd swing my axe and cut her from this horrible existence.
And then I cried. Staring at this mute Avox, I began to bawl. And of course, not just a little cry. No, I don't do anything half-assed. I sobbed so hard I fell to the floor, unable to control myself like a toddler. My hands gripped the plush material of the carpet and I began tearing at it furiously. I'm sure my Avox had no fucking idea what I was doing. Just that I was a crazy Victor sobbing on the floor and pulling out carpet fibers.
I fell onto my side, curling myself up into the tiniest ball I could. My sobs waned into silent, hot tears. I wanted to close my eyes and push the tears out, but when I do I just see blood. Raining blood all around me. Screams. I don't want to close my eyes ever again. But I do. And it's worse.
The following morning I awaken with a shrill scream, my body covered in sweat. Their eyes. All I could see were the eyes of the other tributes. And blood. Blood everywhere. Eyes and blood and axes and more blood. I was panting hard when Lilac stormed into my room, followed by an alarmed Avox.
"Johanna? Is everything okay?" The Avox sees that I am fine and backs out of the doorway, closing it behind her. Lilac stands there, donning her signature wig and a long, silky black dress. She looks beautiful but all I can feel is anger. The rage so hot I think my organs are going to cook and burst from within me.
I laugh at Lilac's question because it's so fucking out of control to even think that I would be okay. I'm sixteen and I just killed strangers. There are several families whose kids will never see a setting sun because of me. "Don't ask dumb fucking questions, Skylark. It's unattractive," I sneer, pulling myself into a sitting position on the bed. I wrap my arms around my knees.
Lilac looks extremely hurt at my lashing out and I can't even feel sympathy for her. I almost feel mad at her, for giving me that axe. That axe helped me win the games, but I think I'd rather be dead. I'm sure of it. "I'm sorry," she says in a tight voice. She's not sorry. "I thought you were hurt."
"Well, ya thought wrong." I'm so curt and obnoxious that I think she might cry. But I can't find the guilt in my body anymore. I can't find any emotion at all. I feel like I should say I'm sorry but no words come out. She stands there, dumbfounded. Can she not understand the trauma? Was she not watching? Was she so consumed with seeing me win that she didn't think that maybe, just maybe, winning the Hunger Games was like losing the heaviest parts of your soul?
I'm falling apart, I want to tell her. Fix me. Help me. Why does winning feel so much like losing? Is this ever going to stop? Am I ever going to feel normal again? This is what Jox should've prepped us for. Not the games. But in the unfortunate case of winning, how to turn off the world.
Instead of responding to me, she turns and leaves without a word. I snuggle back into my blankets and try and force myself to go back to sleep. Nightmares weren't any worse than real life.
