A/N: Here's the update. Please leave feedback if there's anything you like/dislike about the story.
If being reaped was hard, figuring out how to say goodbye is impossible. I am in a private room of the Justice Building, which is heavily guarded by Peacekeepers. Maybe they're worried I'll try to run away.
It's funny how I have lived in District Four my whole life and have never been inside here. The floors are a cool marble and the bench I am sitting on has engravings of waves and sea creatures going up the side. I fidget nervously as I wait for my family to show. I doubt my aunt, uncle, and cousins will come because they will be with Kai. Not that I want to see them right now anyway. It would be too awkward because no matter how much they care about me, I know they are hoping Kai will emerge as victor.
I can feel the hysteria inside me again as my parents emerge through the door. The emotions are pushing, trying so hard to overcome the barrier and flow freely through me. But I keep myself in control.
My parents look so much older than I remember them, even though it has been less than an hour since I talked to them last. Every worry line on their faces has inexplicably become deeper and more defined. The three of us stare at one another for a moment, hoping someone will find appropriate words to say.
It ends when I see silent tears dripping down my mother's face.
Comforting people. Finally something I'm decent at. I automatically cross over to her and put my arms around her as if I am the parent and she is the child.
"Shh, it's okay. Please Mama, don't cry over me. This isn't how I want to remember you."
She looks up with a strange look in her eyes. I can't tell if its determination, desperation, or some other emotion. Maybe it's a mix of those things. Tears are still sliding down her cheeks, but I know there is something in her eyes other than sorrow.
"Come back to us, Mags. I know it won't be easy, but I need you to try. We need you to try," she says, her eyes flickering over to my father for a second.
"I'll promise I'll try," I say half-heartedly. I know it isn't what they want to hear, but it's all I can give them.
My father lifts my chin towards his face and says, "No matter what happens in that arena, you will always be our Mags. That will never change. Just try not to lose sight of who you are and what you stand for."
His words puzzle me. They seem so contradictory. At first, it seemed like he was saying it's alright with him if I have to kill people to get back home; he'll accept me no matter what. But what does he mean by the last part? Don't lose sight of who I am and what I stand for? What do I stand for? If it's being a decent person and not murdering innocent kids, then there's no way I can come home myself.
I want to ask him what he means, but the words don't come. My lapse in concentration of withholding my emotions has allowed a single tear to escape out my eye. My mother wipes it away with her finger before it can fall to the cool, marble floor. We stay like this for a few minutes- huddled close together to where we can feel each other's body heat. We are one indivisible unit and nothing can destroy that. I feel like a small child, and for a moment I want nothing more than to be little and innocent again. But the world was just as much of a mess then as it is now.
A Peacekeeper informs us that we have one minute left. This seems to alert my father, and he pulls something out of the pocket of his worn suit.
"Keep this with you. Hold it close and remember home." It looks like he wants to say more, but can't get the words out. Instead, he plants the small object into the palm of my hand.
It's a seashell, just like the ones I collect on the beach. It's only slightly bigger than the tiny clams that bury themselves into the sand with each sweep of the tide. While most shells on the beach range from pure white to pale blue, this one is a lovely pastel orange. It has two white lines that stretch across it vertically and, when I turn it around in my hand, I can see flecks of red reflect off of it.
"It's beautiful, Daddy," I say breathlessly. How long has it been since I called my father "Daddy"? The word seems to bring a ghost of a smile to his lips.
The Peacekeeper disrupts our moment by forcefully telling my parents that visitation is over, and they are expected to leave this instant. As they are escorted out, I try to say "goodbye", but my lips won't form the word. It is trapped inside my throat, and I almost start panicking because I suddenly have to say it. If they leave without it, they might hold onto the hope that I will win. I don't want them to hope. I want them to expect me to die right away, so maybe if I survive a few days, they won't be disappointed because I have exceeded their expectations.
The word finally slips out, but it is too late. They are gone. I replay our conversation in my head, wishing I could go back. Last words are never long enough, because there is never a point where you have said all you need to say to feel satisfied. There is always the disheartening feeling that there was something else, and those unsaid words haunt you forever. Already, a lifetime of unsaid words are bouncing around my body.
I have never felt so empty. Even all the terror, sadness, unfinished goodbyes, and knots inside of me. All of it hurts, but none of it can fill me up. Suddenly drained, I have no energy to even think. I do not protest when two Peacekeepers take me by the arm and pull me toward the train.
I almost trip when they let go of my arm, but then I am taken aback by the extravagance of the room in front of me. Just minutes ago, I thought the Justice Building was elaborate. It is as plain as the rooms in my house compared to this. All I can think is that any item in this room, whether it be the plush leather chairs, or the intricately patterned carpet, or even the fine craftsmanship of the wooden table (which of course, is set with the fanciest napkins and silverware), must cost more than my family makes in a year.
"Dang, this place makes the Justice Building look cheap," a voice from behind says, mimicking my own thoughts. Kai.
"Yeah," I agree.
For the first time ever, I do not know how to talk to my own cousin. What is there to say? I hope we don't have to kill each other?
After only half a minute, I can't stand the silence any longer, so I ask, "How are you holding up?"
"Okay. Not as good as I thought I would, but no one expected this…" he replies, trailing off.
I sit down in one of those big leather chairs and feel myself sink into it. What I would give to have a piece of rope with me right now. At least then I could distract myself by tying and untying knots. Instead, I settle for tightening and loosening my grip on the arms of the chair. I close my eyes and try to block it all out.
It doesn't work well. There's something I need to know.
"Kai…," I begin nervously. "How long have you been planning to volunteer?"
"I don't know. A while, I guess. I didn't decide until they picked that boy. Did you see him? He didn't stand a chance."
"Do you stand a chance?" I ask, my eyes still snapped shut.
"Yeah, I think so. I'm more athletic than most of the people who get reaped. The way I see it, the odds were more in my favor than his." A minute passes before he adds, "He and his mom came visit me in the Justice Building. They couldn't stop thanking me."
I consider this a minute before opening my eyes and replying, "I guess that makes you a hero then. At least from their perspective."
If I think of it this way, I can feel a little better about the situation. It really was noble for Kai to save that boy's life. I just have to block out the fact that our family now has to experience twice the pain. It isn't fair to say that the boy's family deserved their own share of loss, because, really, who does deserve it?
I don't think I can be mad at Kai anyway. I don't have the strength for that right now. If we're going to die within the next week or two, I would rather us not be mad with each other.
It's then that Isidora walks in, blabbering something about how disappointed she is in the color of the paint on the wall. She is followed by District Four's two victors: Kallan Rillet and Alec Calder. They've been famous in Four since they won their Games. I've never really been a fan, mainly because I connect them with the violence of the Hunger Games.
Kallan won seven years ago and is now in his early twenties. He overpowered the other tributes with his size and muscle, not to mention his impressive use of a spear. It always seemed to me like he was too enthusiastic about the Games, but I know he is Kai's idol. I see him walk over towards my cousin and shake hands with him. I almost feel like smiling, but I'm so drained that I don't have the strength to do it.
That must mean Alec is my mentor. He won three years ago at sixteen with his charm and human-catching nets. He has his fair share of muscle too, but he isn't as built up as Kallan.
Yes, he is walking towards me now. I try so hard to stand up and meet him, but it is useless. My body has taken on a mind of its own and decided it is too weak to respond to my brain's requests. All I can think of is how empty I am, yet full at the same time with grief. There's no way I can start talking strategy right now.
I can't meet his eyes when he approaches me because I am suddenly terrified that if I make myself respond, I will completely lose it and embarrass myself by crying. All I can do is stare past him and keep a poker face as he speaks to me.
"Hey, you must be Magnolia. I'm Alec Calder, but you probably knew that already. I'll be your mentor. Do you have any ideas for the Games?"
I know I'm being rude, but I can't manage anything except for a small shrug. This isn't how I wanted my first impression to go. I really am a nice person, but my emotions are dangerously close to overpowering me and I just can't function. I can't. I can't. I can't.
Enough time passes for it to become awkward when Alec sighs and I wonder if he's being sympathetic because he knows how stressful it is to be in this position. I force my eyes to meet his. For the first time, I notice how green they are. It's a darker green, like the plants and vines that grow around Four, but they are so bright at the same time.
It is then I take in his expression. He isn't sympathetic; he's annoyed, maybe even angry.
"Look, I know you're having a bad day, but my day hasn't exactly been all rainbows and sunshine either. If you're just going to shut me out because you think you can handle this without my help, this isn't going to work," he says, his face harsh and cold.
Before I can force my mouth to form an apology, Kai is walking towards Alec angrily.
"Lay off, okay? None of this is her fault!" he says.
"It's no one's fault, but she's still going to have to deal with it if she wants to survive. You won't be able to protect your girlfriend in the arena."
"She's not my girlfriend. She's my older cousin," Kai booms. Behind him, Kallan makes a sound of surprise.
The expression on Alec's face suddenly changes. "Oh, sorry," he says, looking remorseful. "I didn't know that."
I finally find the strength to pull myself out of the chair and say, "It's okay. I'm sorry, too. I've just never felt so drained."
Alec doesn't look my way, but he calls for Isidora. "Isidora, why don't you go show Magnolia her room?" She jumps up out of her chair, her curly pink hair bouncing with her, as she leads me down a corridor to my room.
"I'll come get you in time for dinner," she promises. "It doesn't take too long to reach the Capitol, either. We should be there by eleven o'clock tonight."
I nod to her and try to smile. Finally, I am left to myself. Without even making note of the features in the room, I cross over to the big white bed and bury my face into a pillow. Within seconds, I am sobbing.
Here I have time to let my mind consider everything that's happened. What I can't decide is whether that is a good or bad thing.
