There are thousands of eyes all around me, eyes of every different shape and every different color imaginable. Some are ordinary colors; like brown, and blue, and green, while others have the artificial colors the capitol is so fond of; purples, and pinks, and yellow. Some of the pupils are full and round and some of them are just slits; like the eyes of a cat, or a reptile's. They follow me everywhere, mimicking my movement in the mirror their depth and darkness creates. I try to run from them, but no matter how far or how fast I move there are still thousands more, watching me, waiting for me to do something. Though most of the eyes are clear I notice that some of them are red, as if they have been crying and have only just recently been able to stop. Some of them still have tears falling from them, some have blood, and some have the gray sheen of death.
The temptation to curl in a ball and scream is almost to alluring for me to ignore, until I find a pair of bright blue eyes in the distance, a pair of eyes I have known all my life. With all I have I run towards them, even shoving eyes out of the way when they are to close. I know those eyes; I know those sparkling blue eyes. I know them better than I even know my own. For they have haunted my every dream for the past four years. As I rush towards them I begin to see the shadow of a body appearing, and before the face even has time to form I throw myself into his newly forged arms, wrapping myself around him as best as I can. If I hold on tight enough maybe he won't leave me. If I tell him I love him loud enough maybe he'll actually hear me, as he hasn't these past four years. I feel tears streaming down my cheeks as I bury my face in his chest.
His hand goes under my chin and brings my face up to look at his. I obey with a grin on my face, longing to see those sapphire eyes. I am met with emerald instead. I stumble back for a moment as Cinna's face comes into view, the sharp angles of his cheek bones, the fullness of his lips, the way his brown hair sometimes almost appears red. For a moment it's almost too much to bear. The pain in my heart, the disappointment, the confusion. I stand there motionless, waiting for him to change back into Peeta, but he doesn't. Instead he grabs the sides of my arms, much harder than Cinna would ever grab me. I try to pull away but his face begins to melt off, and I scream. The face underneath, the man hiding beneath the mask of Peeta and Cinna's, is President Snow.
I shoot up in bed, gulping in massive breaths of air as my heart slams itself against my ribcage repeatedly, as if it is trying to beat away the image now plastered in my mind. I touched my arms where his hands were on me, and find they are unnaturally cold. It was so real, it felt so real. I draw my knees in and cover my face with my hands, just as the bed beings to rustle. "Katniss?" A sleepy voice beside me asks, and I jump. "Katniss it's… four in the morning. Are you alright?" Cinna asks, his eyes half lidded. For a moment I don't remember why he's here, in my bed, or why his impeccably kept hair is tousled or his shirt is gone. Then it hits me, and my cheeks burn red.
The need to be loved, to be wanted, it hadn't been left on the roof. When he had come into my room I had shut the door behind him, and thrown myself into his arms. He didn't deny me, he never denies me. This is not the first time we've woken like this, and I know it is far from being the last. I fall back into my bed, the sheets bunched up around my chest in some failed attempt at modesty. Without a word Cinna draws his arm around my stomach and pulls me back against him, cradling me with his body. "Nightmares, Kat?" He asks as he buries his face in my hair. I nod, and he lets out a breath of hot air that tickles my neck. "Wanna talk about it?" He's never pushed me before, never demanded details or even been offended when I wake up screaming Peeta's name, and most of the time I don't feel like telling him. Partly because saying it out loud only makes it feel more real, but mostly because I know it will hurt him. Even if he pretends it doesn't. How could it not? He is a living breathing man, and yet I can't let go of the one I lost years ago.
I turn in his arms to face him, and for a moment surprise registers in his eyes, but they are calm once more very quickly. "I was running," I begin in a soft voice, and he lifts his hand to stroke my hair, as he knows how it calms me. "I was running, and there were eyes everywhere. Watching me. It freaked me out, a lot, but then I found Peeta's eyes." I search him for a sign of jealousy, but there is none. "And I ran to him, the closer I got the more real he became. He got a body and… I ran into his arms." I take a moment to let out a deep breath. "But when I backed away to look at him… it was you." It's there; I can see it, a little flame of hope burning way down in his soul. A flicker so faint it seems the softest of breezed might blow it out. "But you grabbed my arms roughly, and your face melted, and it was Snow standing in your place." I swallow the lump in my throat. "That's when I woke up." He sighs and brings his hand out my hair, running it over my shoulder, down my waist and to my hip before bring it back up again. He repeats this action while he thinks of the right words to say, and I can't say I don't enjoy it.
"That is freaky." He whispers, and touched his nose and forehead to mine. "But it was just a dream, Kat. Snow isn't going to grab you, and I'm… I'm not Peeta." His voice nearly breaks, and suddenly I push myself forward, flush against him, and place my hand on his face.
"Cinna." I whisper desperately. "I don't want you to be Peeta, or anything!" I say, but I know that he doesn't believe me. I press my lips against his, and as always he responds in earnest. The warmth of him, the feel of him; he is real, and alive, and so full of love. Why can't I just love him in return? Why can't I look at him and feel everything I feel when I think of Peeta? Peeta is gone, he's dead, and he's never coming back. Cinna's right here, why can't I just take that and be happy?
"I love you, so much." He murmurs against my lips, but there is nothing but defeat in his voice. I cling to him, knowing full well what will come next. He will get out of bed, saying he needs to work on the tributes outfits or something ridiculous like that. He'll channel his emotions, his pain, into his work. Just as he always does.
"I know." I whisper fiercely, kissing him again. "I know. Please just… a little more time." I beg, my voice breaking at the end. He gets tense for a moment before relaxing slowly. "Please, don't leave me." He touches my face, pushing back a wayward curl.
"I'll never leave you, Kat." He whispers as he presses his lips to my forehead. "Get some sleep. Tomorrows a big big big day." He mutters, mimicking Effie. I nod and bury myself in the crook of his neck, allowing his arms to engulf me. I can feel his lips on my hair, kissing me to sleep. For a long time I had only known the thought of Peeta to be able to coax me to sleep after a nightmare, but in Cinna's arms sleep leaps up and swallows me whole.
I hate the ranking day. I always have. I sit in the living room of our quarters with Alice on one side of me and Darren on the other. Darren has his eyes fixed on the screen, his back straight and his hands in fists at his side. Alice, however, it practically sitting in my lap, holding my hands tightly in her tiny ones. When I asked them what they had done for the judges Darren shrugged and told me he did what I told him to do. Alice told me she had jumped around the room on top of everything; she reminded me so much of Rue it caused a physical pain in my chest.
As the faces of the tributes scrolled by with the numbers beside them I began to grow more and more nervous. Both tributes from one, two, and four had all scored high, of course, but other than that the numbers were dismal. A girl from five receives as low as a two, which I can never remember happening before. When it finally comes to District Twelve Alice's hands grow like stones in mine. Darren's face flashes on the screen, beside the number Ten. I release one of Alice's hands for just a moment to pat him in a congratulatory way, but he hardly seems to notice. I grab Alice's hand just as her face comes on the screen followed by the number Eight. The Capitol seal goes up, the anthem plays, and then everything goes back. Eight is a good solid number. She won't be hunted down for being too weak or to strong. She is almost right in the middle.
"Did I do good?" She asks; her eyes wide with a need to please. I give her hands a firm squeeze before releasing them.
"Yes, you did." I say softly, and Effie chimes in quickly.
"An eight is a perfectly lovely score!" She says in a chipper voice. "Just make sure they know you meant to get that number when you are in your interview tomorrow. Remember, sweet and confident." Effie practically sings, and Alice nods obediently. I nod in agreement, but don't say anything. Here I am giving both of these children advice on how to out survive, or maybe even kill, the other. It's beastly, and horrible, but it is how it is. "Now." Effie yawns as she stands up. "It's time for you two to get your rest, tomorrow is going to be a big big big day!" I shoot Cinna a look from across the room, he simply smirks in return. "Besides, it's time for an adult chat." Effie says as she ushers the two out of the room. When she closes the door behind her she turns quickly, looking at Cinna and I in a manner that is hardly polite. "Are you two insane?" She asks in a hushed voice, and I give Cinna a confused look. I shrug my shoulders. "Someone could have seen you!" She cries indignantly.
"Effie, what in the world are you talking-"
"Him spending the night in your room!" She whispers in an intense voice, and I feel my cheeks burn red with shame. Cinna, however, doesn't even flinch. "People will find out! People will talk! Then we will have quite the scandal on our hands!"
"Why?" Cinna asks. "She is an adult, I am an adult-"
"You were her stylist!"
"And I'm hardly five years older than her." He says with a shrug. "We both know, Effie, that there are men in the city twice my age who would love to get their hands on her." Under her full body gloss Effie blushes at the idea.
"It is hardly acceptable-"
"Whatever Katniss decides is acceptable is acceptable." Cinna says as he stand, brushing his hair away from his eyes. "Now, if you don't mind, I've got to go put the finishing touches on the Tributes interview wear." And with that he turns and stalks out of the room, not even taking the time to wave goodbye to me.
"Now you've gone and done it." I tell Effie as I stand. "He'll be in a foul mood for hours."
"It's not proper!" She hisses.
"It's not proper to make children fight to the death!" I growl back, and the moment I say it I wish I could take it back. Effie glances around quickly, her eyes full of fear. Such talk could get the both of us in huge trouble.
"Fine, do what you will, Miss Everdeen." She mutters as she too stalks from the room. "You always do, anyway." As soon as she says it I laugh, unable to do anything else. It is a mad sound, and I realize how crazy I must seem. Still, I don't explain my laughter; one rebellious outburst is enough for one night.
Do what I will? I have not been able to do what I will since she called Prim's name the day of the reaping. Ever since that day every moment of my life has been dictated, every move and every action judged by the Capitol. President Snow may not have given me distinct instructions, but he made the consequences clear the day he had a ten foot tall fully electric fence erected around Twelve with three feet of solid concrete going under it. I hadn't been able to escape into the woods since I became a Mentor. Not knowing what else to do, and feeling rather silly standing in the living room with all these vicious thoughts in my head, I decide there is only one place I can go, one person who will understand.
It's almost as if I'm standing in front of the elevator before my decision is even made. Hurriedly I step past the glass doors and press four repeatedly. A voice behind me laughs. "Pressing it more won't make it go any faster." Finnick says, and he catches me so by surprise I actually squeal.
"Finnick!" I cry. "How the hell did I not notice you?" I ask, and he simply grins.
"I can be sneaky when I so choose." He says as the doors open on the fourth floor, but he presses the button for the roof. "We can't talk there." He whispers, and for a moment I wonder how it is that everyone seems to know about my love for that place. For a long time it had been almost like a secret sanctuary to me, only now I was beginning realizing it wasn't so secret as I had thought.
When the doors open to the small flight of stairs I hurry up them, and while my first impulse is to go to the garden I turn the other way. The garden is Peeta and I's place, Cinna and I's place, and Finnick has no business there. When we finally come to the edge of the building I stop and sit myself down against a short smoke stack that is relatively clean and free of smoke at the moment. I turn to look at him just as he drops himself beside me. "How did you know I was coming to look for you?" I ask, and he shrugs.
"You're not the only one who comes up to the roof to think." He traces a bit of dirt on the roof with his finger, drawing a little picture in it. A name. I know without craning my neck to read it what it says.
"How do you deal with it?" I ask carefully. "How do you… survive?" He smiles bitterly.
"I don't." He whispers. "I hide myself away in a little box deep inside and only Annie holds the key." He murmurs before looking up at me. "Create your own box, Katniss. Give Cinna the key." I furrow my eyebrows.
"How did you-"
"Sum it up to a man's intuition." There is something he's not telling me, something important. I want to press him for details, but I know that will hardly be fair. I can't ask him to divulge all his secrets when I'm so unwilling to divulge mine. Instead I sigh and look down at my hands. "It's hard, Katniss. And it's only going to get harder." He sighs, and I feel my hope draining. "It's going to get harder and harder and harder, until you yourself are so hard you no longer feel it." He turns to look at me, and I feel my heart sink into my stomach. His eyes are so hopeless it almost makes me cry. "That is when they will have won, when you become numb to everything. Like the morphlings, or Haymitch. When they have that much control on even how you feel…" He stops and looks out at the flashing city. "Don't let that happen."
"I… I won't." I say, but he just gives me a sad grin.
"Oh Katniss. You already have."