Disclaimer: I do not own The Hunger Games...
Note: Hey, sorry it's been so long since my last update! It's Thanksgiving Break right now, and I was updating one of my other stories, but I've decided that I've been neglecting my other ones long enough. Your guys' reviews give me the excitement I need to keep updating, so keep it up! Also, please check out my other story, Dark Days Will Become Better, if you haven't already! Nothing wrong with a little self-promoting... Anyways, here's the second chapter! Leave a review about what you think about this chapter!
~Burritoyum
Chapter Two: Sacrifices
I wake from my sleep trembling and panting. I subconsciously grab at the spot on the bed next to me, looking for comfort, only to remember that Lucia has already gotten up to tend to her duties around the mansion. Her absence brings a familiar tug at my heart, reminding me that nobody is permanent in my life. I have nobody but Snow as a common reoccurrence, and that's worse than nothing.
Looking at the too-expensive clock in on my mahogany bedside table, I see that I'd only gotten a total of three hours of sleep last night/this morning. I stretch, feeling exhausted. It's around seven o'clock.
I trudge over to my closet and pick out a dark green v-neck t-shirt and a random pair of jeans. Lacing up my old hunting boots I'd been given as a present by Haymitch a couple years back, I hear a throat clear. I startle, having been so far off in thought that I must have not heard anyone come in. I turn to find a man in- what I assume is a respective uniform- standing a bit uncomfortably by the door.
I nod at him, signaling for him to continue, and he does as ordered. "Miss, President Snow has asked for you," he tells me in a harsh tone, but I'm able to see right through his rough appearance. His badge says Hayvee.
I narrow my eyes in thought, trying to remember where I'd heard the last name on his uniform. A light appears in my head as I recall meeting his wife, Camillia and his little girl Thalia. I give him a gentle smile, which seems to confuse him.
"Hayvee. Jacovar Hayvee?" I ask him quietly. He nods slowly. I give him a small smile. "I met your wife and daughter, back in District Eight? How is Thalia? You have an adorable daughter," I tell him genuinely. This cracks his stone-expression, and a smile crosses his face at the thought of his daughter.
"Very well, Miss. She's turning four in a week," he tells me proudly. "Camillia and I have been trying to save up for a nice doll. I've been working the double shift, but I'm sure it'll work out," he says a bit ashamed. I give a slight frown, and start to think.
"Jacovar, when is the next time you return to visit your family?"
"Tonight actually, ma'am," he responds, clearly unsure where this is going.
Without further consolation, I turn and scurry over to a basket in the corner of my room and open it, displaying a various collection of dolls and stuffed animals I've received over the years from Snow, when he tried persuading my love with expensive purchases. To say the least, he gave up about two years ago, when it became clear I'd known too much about his ways.
I gather a total of ten toys, five dolls and five stuffed animals, and put them in a plain bag as not to gather attention.
Turning back to wide-eyed Jacovar, I hand him the bag with a smile. He looks at the bag with shock, then back up to me. He tries to give the bag back to me, obviously thinking that this is a trap. Thinking that I am like my father, and would deceive him to get him killed. My eyebrows furrow slightly at that.
I look into his brown eyes earnestly, trying to get my point across. I push the bag back to him, holding eye contact.
"Jacovar, first of all, you can call me Katniss. Second of all, I know what you're thinking. I'm not like my father. I think that if I were in any sense, I wouldn't be wearing a t-shirt and jeans," I say with a small chuckle.
He finally accepts the bag, looking at it with awe. When his eyes flicker back to me, they're pooled with tears.
"Mi- Katniss- I, I don't know how to thank you. This is more than enough, though. Are you sure you don't want them? You should-" I cut him off with a hand on his shoulder. "I won't be missing those, trust me. I have plenty, but I've never been much of a doll person," I say sheepishly. "Snow, he tries- well, tried- to win my affection with expensive things. I just, I guess I never fell for it," I say as I go to open my curtains, letting daylight stream in. What I'm really doing is avoiding his eyes, so that he won't see the pain that remains in them. The pain that I shouldn't have after so many years.
I hear footsteps coming behind me, but I refuse to look back. I've already opened up to him more than I have to almost anyone since I met Finnick. Lucia only connected some of the dots, but I've never told her anything, fearful that she'd become worried over something as simple as me. Jacovar feels like he could be my brother, and I suppose that's why I feel so comfortable towards him in contrast to my normally quiet, somewhat hostile attitude.
I feel his hand touch my shoulder, and I flinch slightly. Underneath my t-shirt lies a fresh bruise. He stills, then turns me around. His eyes roam my face and arms, and I start to get confused by the surprised look on his face. Arching my eyebrow, I look at him challengingly. When his eyes catch mine, he blinks, and anger flickers through his eyes briefly.
"Katniss, do you have any- any makeup or anything?" he asks me with a low voice, gesturing to my arms and face. I look down at my arms, perplexed.
Then my eyes widen. I gulp, forgetting that I'd left the curtains closed for a reason. The bruises and cuts that are scattered down my arms are easily visible in the brightening daylight. I rush to the curtains to close them, though I already know the damage has been done. Once they're closed, I hurry over to a drawer that holds what probably looks like a limitless supply of makeup. Not caring what's for what, I spread whatever is the color of my skin over my arms until the bruises don't seem to have been there at all. With minuscule satisfaction, I go to the mirror, covering the bruises on my face with the same goop I'd put on my arms. Once finished, I look in the mirror, for once thankful of Capitol makeup.
Turning, I go back to the curtains to open them. Looking back at Jacovar, I put on a forced smile. "Erm- how do I look?" I ask sarcastically, hoping to eliminate a bit of the tension that's filled the room. He frowns, but nonetheless says,"You look like you do whenever I see you." I nod, thankful. One more thing to take care of, a big thing.
"Jacovar, you- you can't tell anyone about this, okay? If you even let it slip outside this room, you could be killed. Camillia and Thalia- they could die 'accidentally'. My father is a cruel man, and he has surveillance everywhere. I destroyed the cameras and microphones in here years ago, so you're safe, and so is your family. I want you to be careful. If you lost one of them, it would be horrible-" I start rambling nervously, trying to get the point across that what he just saw was really dangerous. He puts his hand up and smiles, though it doesn't reach his eyes.
"No problem, Katniss. I understand. I didn't know that he..." he lowers his voice in precaution,"abuses his own daughter, though. I just..." he trails off, but I understand. Jacovar is a man who works for the Capitol to keep his family from starving, but does not agree with their principles. Few people are recruited from the districts to work as Peacekeepers or officers for the Capitol, and when they do, they normally support the Capitol more than its brainless citizens. He understands the consequences well enough to know not to say anything.
I let out a breath of relief, and nod. He straightens his posture, putting his stone-like expression on. "I think that we're a little late.." he says, and I nod.
"If they ask, I was being troublesome," I tell him, not wanting him to get in trouble. "Also..." I say as I go to my desk, getting out a small sheet of paper and pen. "In case they want to know where you were authorized to bring that bag back to your home; here," I say handing him the paper.
"It has an explanation and my signature, just show it to anybody who asks. I think I'm on good terms with most of them, so they shouldn't question further. If they do, tell them to address me for confirmation."
He nods and slings the bag over his shoulder. "And, Javocar? I'll make sure you have Thalia's birthday off," I tell him. He looks at the door, and embraces me in a bear-hug. I awkwardly pat his back, not used to signs of affection from many people. He thanks me tremendously before clearing his throat and standing straight once again. In an authoritative voice, he says loudly, so as not raise suspicion, "Ma'am, if you do not so kindly follow me to your father, I will have to contact him and tell him of our problem."
Never much good at acting, I let out a perhaps overdone sigh and, "Fine."
He escorts me to my father's office as requested, and stands post outside the door. My emotionless expression matches that of Jacovar, as both of ours were worn before we exited my room.
I don't bother knocking as I enter his office, and Javocar enters with me, having to guard me in case I do anything 'irrational' in my father's office. He worships this office more than he does me. Clenching my jaw, I speak. "You requested for me, father," I say tersely. His eyes narrow for the shortest second, but grow along with the grin spreading his artificial face.
My eyes narrow in caution, confused by his look of happiness. There's only one reason for this.
My eyes scan the room, and my suspicions are confirmed. In the corner chair sits a somewhat short man with artificial white pale skin that shimmers in the light and artificial black hair styled high upon his head, matching his artificially black beard shaved in an unnatural pattern along his jaw line.
My eyes flicker back to Snow as his piercing eyes urge me to sit down. I sit, facing my father.
"Father, have you considered my proposal? Perhaps to end the Games?" I ask, admonishing myself for the hope that leaks through my voice. My eyes flicker to Ja- Hayvee- and I see surprise in his eyes, along with pride. I look back to my father, who saw our exchange. I quickly come up with something to say, hoping to justify the shared look.
"Father, do we have to have a Peacekeeper in the room? I feel rather uncomfortable, seeing as they almost always follow you like headless chickens?" I say with a bit of venom in my voice. My father closes his eyes and rubs them tiredly, allowing me to shoot an apologetic glance at Hayvee, hoping he knows I don't mean to offend him. His nod is almost undetectable, but I see it.
I look back at my father before his hands raise from his eyes. "Yes, darling. It is necessary. You should know that," he tells me harshly, but the smile still splits across his plastic-injected lips.
"Mr. Crane, this is, as I'm sure you know, my daughter. Katniss, this is Seneca Crane, the head Gamemaker for this year's Hunger Games," he says, addressing the man in the corner. I give a forced smile to the man, knowing that he's even worse than the Capitol citizen who can't wait for the Hunger Games. He's the one who designs the death trap.
"Nice to meat you, Mr. Crane," I tell him, offering my hand to him. He takes it and shakes it eagerly, obviously nervous in the presence of the president and his only daughter.
"It's an honor to meet your presence, your highness," he tells me, and I have to suppress a shiver from his death-cold hands. I force another smile, and tell him he can call me Katniss, and that I'm happy to meet him as well. I hope that my lying abilities have improved greatly, but judging from the look on my father's face, I'd say not.
I shift in my seat uncomfortably, but then remember I'm in my father's presence, and sit up straighter. I refuse to give him any benefits to this.
"So, father," I say sarcastically, trying to anger him. It works, and I see his left eye twitch beneath his snow white brow. I smirk.
"Have you considered my proposal?" I continue. A sly smile passes his lips, leaving a bad feeling in my gut. This can't be good.
"Yes, actually, I have in fact thought about it. Now, you said that it wasn't fair that the children are all fearing for their lives, and those that they love. Did you not?" he says with a dangerous gleam in his eyes. I nod slowly, unsure where this is going.
"And you don't think it's fair that they're worrying about their lives when you just sit here in the Capitol, yes?" He says. It takes a moment for the shock to wear off before saying, "I didn't say-" I start, feeling fearful of where he's taking this.
"But! You implied it, isn't that right," he cuts me off forcefully, narrowing his eyes.
"I- I suppose," I pause, thinking.
"Well, I have talked to Mr. Crane here," he says, gesturing to a very discomforted Seneca Crane. I'd forgotten about him.
"And I've instructed him to put seven slips with your name on it in each district bowl. It can be undone, as it was your wish," he says, smiling deviously. My eyes widen a fraction, and I begin to analyze my life. If I'm entered in seven times, multiplied by twelve, I'm entered a total of 86 times, could it be enough? Enough to stop at least one child from having to go into the Games?
Regaining my voice, I'm glad when my voice comes out strong and calm. "And if I'm drawn in more than one district, will a girl be excused from that district?" I ask.
He seems to contemplate this, before answering. "Perhaps... Yes. Let's say your name is pulled from District Six's bowl first, and then District Nine. You would enter as tribute for District Six, and there would be no female tribute to enter for District Nine."
Hope peaks at this, and determination sets in. My life being taken can possibly save another little girl's. I decide it's better than doing nothing.
"I'll do it. Enter my name in for a total of 86 slips. What happens if I volunteer?" I ask curiously. If my name is not drawn by the last district, I could at least have the chance of saving somebody.
"If you volunteer, then you will be tribute of the district you volunteer for, but can only volunteer if you are not chosen more than... twice. If you are chosen for three districts, you will be unable to volunteer. Pack your bags today, you will live in District Twelve for the remainder of the week. Peacekeeper Hayvee will escort you to your room and to your home in District Twelve from the Hovercraft. Goodbye, and may the odds be in your favor," he says without any real care.
"Goodbye, Snow," I sneer at him, knowing that our display will sit unwell with Mr. Crane.
I almost sprint out of the room, and Jacovar follows me. I shut the doors behind us as soon as Jacovar steps in, his emotionless face turning to one of concern.
"Katniss, are you sure this is a good idea?" he asks me. I forgot that we'd only met this morning, it feels like I've known him for years.
"Are you kidding me?" I ask while rushing to gather a plain forest green bag from my closet to gather my things in. "It's a great idea! Don't you see? By agreeing to this, I'm going to save other children's' lives! I'm determined to save them, Jacovar. I've gotta do something," I say enthusiastically.
"Katniss, you're too good for this world," he says shaking his head sadly. "What about if you do get chosen?" he asks me.
"That's the point," I say, "Even if I'm not picked in a district, I'd volunteer in District Twelve. That way, I'd at least be making some difference..." I trail off.
"What if you die?" he says harshly. "You're going to have to try to win! I know you don't want to, but you've got to!" he says, almost pleadingly.
"Katniss, I've known you for only a few hours, but you feel like a little sister to me! Even if we barely know each other, I'll never forgive myself if I didn't stop you!" he says, having trouble to keep his voice down.
"Jacovar," I say gently. "I will try in the Games, I won't just step off of the platform and kill myself. I'm going to fight for the good ones first. I hate the fact that I'm going to have to kill, but- I can't let someone from District One or Two win. I can't stand by and watch them enjoy killing the innocent. I'm going to fight for what's right," I tell him confidently, zipping my bag up. I motion for him to be quiet as we prepare to leave my room.
"Jacovar, in the hovercraft, we can not talk, not like we would in here. My father has cameras, has microphones. Hovercrafts are no different, and you'd be dead in a minute if he found out you developed a friendship with the daughter he despises. Will you tell Lucia that I left her a note and package in the secret compartment? She'll know what I'm talking about," I say, imagining the small, two-by-two square door behind our bed frame. "She's resourceful, so she won't trust you at first. Tell her I said she'll always be my little husky, and she'll know you're true." He nods, taking every word to heart.
"Katniss, you are the most selfless person I know, and I hope I'll see you before going into the Games. It's been an honor knowing you," he tells me. I give him a genuine smile and hug.
We separate, give each other a nod, and I open my door, Jacovar behind me, as we make our way to the hovercraft that waits for us.
. . . . .
Each mile away from the Mansion and closer to District Twelve, I can't help but feel safer, like I'm going to my real home. I've read about it in books my father doesn't know I have. Books that I brought with me, and have had since I was a little girl. Of all the districts, District Twelve intrigues me the most. It has an expanse of trees that are bordered off by an electrified fence, which Haymitch tells me hasn't worked in years. Ever since I met Haymitch- when I was about three- I took interest in forests. I started carving bows and arrows, which I always gave to him as gifts. The last time I saw him, he told me I'd love it there. Haymitch has always been like a father to me, a real father; even if he is a drunk. We're both extremely stubborn, and he has a good heart beneath the guarded exterior I was able to make by way under, and he's been able to wiggle his way under mine as well.
The hovercraft shutters and rocks, and I look to the pilot questioningly. I think his name is Akakios.
"We're just landing, Miss," he tells me, and I nod in response, already excitedly unbuckling my seatbelt. I nod goodbye to Jacovar, and he nods back. It's an innocent gesture, and will not look strange on camera.
I bolt out of the hovercraft, and start running towards what I know as Victor Village, where Haymitch lives. I smirk and push further, until I'm on Haymitch's dirty porch. I haven't seen him in almost a year, and- although this may seem strange- crave his grumpy attitude. I know he's debugged his house, so I knock on his door rapidly, but don't get an answer.
Shrugging, I try the door and find it unlocked. As soon as I step in, I gag. The smell is beyond terrible. Coughing and pinching my nose, I rub my now stinging eyes with my spare hand, and try to navigate through the piles of clothes and bottles and who-knows-what that litters the floor.
I walk into what I assume to be the kitchen, and find him passed out face-down on the floor. "Haymitch," I mutter angrily. After having to wake him up in the Capitol, I've learned two things. One: cold water is the best solution, and two: Stay back, because he sleeps with a knife. I walk over to the cabinets and search them for a mug. I come up successful and fill it with ice-cold water from his expensive faucet. Making my way to him, I stand back and thrust the mug forwards, spilling its contents over his greasy head.
The moment the water makes contact with his head, he jumps up yelling, and pointing the knife at me. I expertly disarm him, and place it on the counter closest to me.
"Sweetheart!" he cheers sarcastically when he sees me. I scowl and roll my eyes at the nickname he's given me. "Nice to see you too," I mumble, though I'm actually very happy to see him.
"I've missed you," he tells me genuinely, and I'm taken aback by his words. Haymitch and I don't really ever say or do anything that affectionate, besides awkward hugs when it's time for him to leave. I decide to be sincere as well. "I've missed you too, Haymitch, but I'm not hugging you when you're covered in... Is that vomit?" I ask him disgusted.
He rolls his eyes at me. "What are you doing here?" he asks accusingly. I look to him confused for a moment, then realizing he must not have been told about the arrangement.
"Haymitch, Snow offered me something," I tell him, noting the nervousness that flashes in his eyes quickly. Taking a deep breath, I give a small smile,"You see, he told me that it was my choice. I could have my name entered in each district seven times, or I could allow the Games to continue as they were," I say, trying to think about how to get my situation out in words. I've never been good with words.
His eyes widen. "You chose the latter, didn't you?" he asks, almost as if he's trying to convince himself of that. I shake my head, and anger along with fear erupts behind his eyes.
"Why would you do that?" he yells at me. "Do you know how utterly stupid that is? You're dead. Did you want to take place in the magnificent Hunger Games? Couldn't get enough excitement out of pretending to play it like all your little Capitol friends?" he shouts, and a new piece cracks in me. Would he seriously think that I want to enter the Hunger Games for a rush? That's beyond disgusting. My face contorts in anger, angry that he would even so much as think something like that.
"Haymitch! Do you honestly think, from all the years that I've despised the Games, that I would do this for some sort of a.. a... sick satisfaction? I thought you knew me better than that! I've hated the Capitol all my life, and I fucking live there!" I'm screaming at him, and his anger is slowly retreating into remorse, but I'm not done.
"You didn't even give me a chance to explain! I'm doing this for other people!" I say, trying to calm myself down. "I- This decision, it could save lives. It's not much, but it's a start. If I do this- I- Ugh!" I get frustrated, unable to explain out loud what this means.
"The thing is, let's say my name is first chosen in District Five, okay? But my name is in every district's bowls, so I can be chosen more than once. So, let's say that even though my name was chosen in District Five, my name was chosen in Districts Seven and Nine. I would enter as a tribute of District Five, but because I was chosen for Seven and Nine, they don't need to send in another tribute. There would be no female tributes from them. None. I'd be saving two little girls from the horrors of the games. I know it's not much," I start to say, thinking he'll still think it's a ridiculous plan," but it's something. It's a step forwards."
I look up at him, and his face is one with pride and sorrow. "Haymitch, you've got to understand. You know what goes on at the mansion. Nobody would care if I died, they would act like it, but it's not like they'll dwell on it," I tell him, and he snorts.
"Sweetheart," he says,"you're not as invisible as you think. Finnick would miss you, that little girl, Lucia or Lucy or whatever, she'd miss you. I'd just drink it away, but you make an imprint on people," he says wisely, and I know that he's saying he'd miss me too. I begin feeling uncomfortable with all this affection that's been displayed. We're not people who normally express our emotions unless it's someone we love.
"Now," he says gruffly, trying to make things less "fluffy" as he'd probably call it. "What exactly is your plan?" he asks, and I can tell he think's I'm just going to kill myself as soon as the platform raises. I tell him what I'd told Javocar earlier.
"Haymitch, I'm not going to just step off of the platform and kill myself. I'm going to fight for others. I hate the fact that I'm going to have to kill, but- I can't let someone from District One or Two win. I can't stand by and watch them enjoy killing the innocent. I'm going to fight for what's right, for the people who deserve to win..." I trail off. He nods, though still looking conflicted. He tips back his bottle, bringing an end to our serious conversation.
"Er- Haymitch? Do you know the Everdeens? I'm supposed to be staying with them until Reaping day." His head snaps to me when I say 'Everdeens'. I furrow my eyebrows. "What?" I ask him, but he shakes his head.
"It's not something I should be telling you. Yeah, I'll take you over to them, used to know the husband. He used to be one of my buddies..." he trails off with a far away look in his eyes.
I walk over to my bag, and he comes out of his trance. Stumbling, he makes his way to the door, motioning for me to follow. I do so wordlessly.
. . . . .
The Everdeen's house is a small, almost shack-like structure, but it feels more like a home than anywhere I've ever been.
"It's strange," I say quietly to Haymitch, who stands at my side, raising his hand to knock on the door. "This feels more like my home than anywhere I've ever been before."
His fist pauses its knocking, but he regains his posture staying silent.
We hear light footprints approach from inside, and a little girl who can't be older than twelve answers. My heart just about melts when she beams at us and pulls us in by our wrists. I take note of her sun-kissed bright blonde hair and charming blue eyes.
"Please come in, I'll get my mother!" she tells us, her eyes lingering joyfully on me. I smile, but a crease forms between my brows when she leaves the room. I look questioningly at Haymitch, but he keeps his gaze focussed on the doorway the little girl disappeared through.
A minute later, she comes in with an old looking book in one hand and an older version of her in the other. The woman looks at me and tears begin spilling from her light blue eyes.
"Katniss?" she asks in a wavering voice. I nod slowly; I thought that nobody had been informed of my arrival, as it was a fast decision. She begins crying and hugs me tightly. I hug her back, majorly confused now.
"Uh, I'm sorry," I say awkwardly," but do I- do I know you?" I ask hesitantly. The woman pulls away and nods frantically with tears in her eyes. "Prim, will you bring that book over here?" she asks the little girl, who nods and walks over.
Handing her mom the book, Prim looks at me with tears in her eyes. I feel like I've seen these people before, but can't seem to place their faces. The woman opens the book and goes through the pages filled with pictures in search for what I assume to be a specific one.
She stops on a page and hands it to me, showing me a colored picture of a small baby with a tuft of hair and grey eyes. My eyes widen as I realize this is the picture in my room, the one my father said was painted of me before my mother 'died'.
"How- how did you get this?" I ask her with a quavering voice. Haymitch excuses himself, saying it's time for him to leave. I give him a quick goodbye before returning my attention to the woman imploringly.
"I- I can't tell you that. It's something that you have to figure out. We've been informed of your situation by a man named... Hayvee? He told us with high respect for you what you're doing. I have no words to express how proud Prim and I are of you, and are extremely honored we are to be hosting you for the next five days." I nod, a little embarrassed that I'd forgotten to ask for her name.
"Erm- what can I call you? I'm sorry, I never caught your name," I say with difficulty, but she just smiles warmly and says, "You can just call me Mom." My heart warms as I think about that. It'd be nice to have someone to call mom. I smile genuinely at the two blondes.
"It's getting late," Prim says, "I'm sure you're tired from the trip. You can sleep in my bed, if you want, we only have two- one for me and Momma. But, of course, I could sleep on the couch, or we could work something out," she adds on the last part hastily, not wanting to push me. I give her an assuring smile.
"I can sleep in your bed, if you don't mind." She beams at me and I smile back, unable to help myself. Prim reminds me of Lucia, sweet, innocent, and full of love. She runs ahead of me and I let out an easy laugh as I see her shirt untucked liked a duck tail.
"Tuck in your tail, Little Duck!" I tease her, and she giggles before sticking her tongue out at me and saying, "Quack!" I chuckle and climb into bed once I've changed. As I'm drifting to sleep, I feel the bed dip slightly next to me.
"Goodnight, Katniss," Prim's sweet voice says.
"Goodnight, Prim," I say back tiredly.
"Katniss? I think you'd be a good big sister," she tells me as I wrap my arms protectively around her.
"Thank you, Little Duck. I think you already make an amazing little sister," I tell her, liking the sound of it.
Her breathing slows, and I know that she's asleep. Her steady breathing lulls me into the first dreamless sleep I've had in three years.
Hey! So, I kinda feel like the ending of this chapter got a little dull, but... What do you think? Leave a review, please, and thanks to those who already have. Also, don't worry, Peeta will be coming in soon, if you haven't already assumed so! Woohoo, right! Haha, but please tell me your thoughts on this chapter! Also don't forget to check out my story, Dark Days Will Become Better! I've just updated it today!
~Burritoyum