Chapter 7
Sorry this is so late guys! For some reason I had trouble getting into this chapter. It's all good now. Thanks so much for all your lovely reviews! Oh, and don't be afraid to give me some constructive criticism. I appreciate any suggestions :) Oh and I hope you all have a very Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year!
Training the next day was hard like Atticus and I predicted. Most of the other tributes showed off their best skills, mainly the Careers, but unfortunately we agreed with Haymitch not to give away any of our strengths.
We worked at the plant station, learning which plants were toxic and which were edible and wandered over to the snare section where we learned how to set a few basic traps. Much to our dismay, we avoided any combat section as to keep our strengths and weaknesses concealed.
I could feel the judging glares, and the other tributes sizing us up like pieces of meat. I heard the snickering behind our backs, accusing us of having no combat ability. Clearly, all of them thought that the mighty District 12 had no chance, but they were wrong; so unbelievably wrong. I had seen Atticus use an ax, and he had seen me use knives.
We were lethal.
Yet to automatically assume that a win for our district was in the near future was utterly arrogant and ignorant. Many of the other districts had skilled tributes. The District 2 boy, Vytas, could handle a mace better than anyone there, and the girl from District 3, Araceli, a non-Career, could throw a spear farther than all the boys.
I took a deep breath as my name was called for my private session with the gamemakers. I rose off the stool next to Atticus and headed toward the door.
"Good luck!" he called after me.
I pushed the door open to a smaller training room, a variety of weapons and tools laid out before me. A group of men sat in a room with a huge glass window, staring at me intently. Without thinking, I snatched the set of knives, red paint, and the parts to assemble a dummy peacekeeper.
I made haste in putting together the pieces of empty armor, took the red paint and scribbled a few words on the chest, before laying it against the wall for the gamemakers to see.
I know Haymitch, Peeta, and Katniss told me not to do anything stupid, crazy, or rebellious, but I just couldn't sit idly by and pretend that I was okay with this. I had to show them that I was not someone to mess with; to show all of them what they were risking.
I strode back to the other side of the room, yanking the six knives out of their sleeve. Sucking in a breath and praying for precision, I sent the knives flying. They cut through the air gracefully, eventually plowing through the tough metal of the suits. The knives traveled up in a perfect line from the chest to the forehead.
Satisfied with my work, I blew a kiss to the gamemakers who sat astonished and gave them one final glare before walking out.
I laughed to myself as I recalled the looks on their faces. It wasn't quite the reaction I expected, but I'd take it. But if it were the real thing, I hope they would feel more sorrow for me putting six knives into their beloved Danagon Lockhard.
"Violet, you must've done something," Haymitch drawled, pacing in front of the couch.
I closed my eyes. "I don't know what you're referring to," I answered.
He rubbed his face, Peeta and Katniss lingering behind him. "Gamemakers don't just hand out 12's to anyone, sweetheart. Clearly, you did something to anger them."
"But wait, isn't it a good thing that she got a 12 and I got a 9? Won't more people want to be our allies?" Atticus questioned from the seat next to me.
"Maybe, it depends on the set of tributes you have. Sometimes it impresses everyone and then you have the pick of the litter for allies and others you're the number one target for the Career pack," Haymitch explained.
Atticus' face fell, and he ran a hand through his hair. "Well, what do we do then?"
"Hard to say. We'll have to wait and see tomorrow if I get any ally offers by the other districts. But it'll help to know what the girl did so I know what I'm dealing with," Haymitch replied, his attention shifting to me.
Atticus glanced over at me. "Violet?"
I rolled my eyes. "It wasn't that big of a deal, okay?"
"Violet," he reiterated.
"I just wanted to prove a point," I admitted, pushing myself off the couch.
"And what was that?" Haymitch inquired.
"I just, you know, threw some knives," I stated vaguely.
"And?" Haymitch said, pressing me for more details.
"Into a peacekeeper dummy."
"And?"
I pushed a loose strand of hair behind my ear. "And there might have been words on the dummy."
"And could you tell me what those words might have said?"
Licking my lips, I mumbled, "Danagon Lockhard."
Haymitch threw his hands up in the air, turning away from me.
Defensive now, I crossed my arms over my chest. "Like they didn't expect that to come from someone. I just happened to be the one to feel inclined to do so," I defended.
"Yeah, but guess what, you're not just someone, you're Peeta and Katniss' daughter. The offspring of the two people who overthrew the Capitol the first time. They're already breathing down your neck to make sure nothing suspicious is going on, and congratulations, you just successfully gave them more of a reason to make sure you don't come out of those games alive," Haymitch ranted.
"We tell you not to do things for a reason, Violet. We don't just make rules for the fun of it. We're trying to give you and Atticus your best chance," Katniss informed.
I snorted. "Since when have you been trying to give me my best chance? Was that before or after you abandoned me?"
Katniss closed her eyes in defeat. "Please, Violet, not now."
"I don't know, Peeta's been begging me to talk to you guys about all this shit, and I think now's the perfect time," I hissed.
"When I said that I actually meant a real discussion. Not you screaming at us about how we failed as parents," Peeta answered.
Haymitch rubbed his face. "We know you're angry at your parents, sweetheart, but you can't keep taking your anger out on the Capitol. You're putting yourself and Atticus in danger. There's a time and place for everything."
"I'm not taking my anger out on the Capitol!" I argued, turning to Haymitch.
"Then explain to me why you were a perfectly behaved tribute before you found out and why you're a ticking time bomb now. What the hell happened?"
"None of your damn business," I yelled, "Now if you all don't mind, I'm going to bed!" I stormed off toward my room when a voice stopped me.
"Violet Rue Mellark, you come back here right now!" Peeta shouted.
I slowly spun around. All the blood in my body began to bubble and boil "Don't you dare," I threatened.
Peeta's tone softened. "That's your full name," he paused, "the name that Katniss gave to you when you were born."
"No, my name's Violet Sinclair. I'm not one of you," I denied, saying the last word with complete disgust.
"Violet, I know you don't want to hear it, but I'm your father. Katniss is your mother. You will listen to us because we're your parents," he demanded.
I laughed bitterly. "Listen to you? What, listen to you spout all kinds of shit about how you're sorry that you abandoned me? About how you're sorry that I didn't grow up with a mother and father who loved me? About how you're sorry to be standing here now about to watch me die in the arena? Well, guess what, sorry doesn't mean shit. You can take all your fake apologies and save them for someone who's dumb enough to accept them! You're not my parents so stop trying to act like you are! You don't love me, and I sure as hell don't love you! Just stay out of my life! There is no place for you!"
Silence commanded the room. And that was when the unthinkable happened. Peeta, the coolheaded rational one of the two victors, lost it.
I had broken Peeta.
"How could you think that," he whispered, tears overflowing his eyes, "how could you ever think that we don't love you?"
I didn't reply. All I could make out was a shrug.
"Do you honestly think that this has been easy on us? I found out that I have another daughter. Another beautiful human being that belongs to me and only me. You can't even imagine the bond between a father and his child. To feel that warm, fragile bundle in your arms and know that they're all yours. To know that from now on it's your job to love, protect, and nurture that child until you're long gone. To know that you couldn't love anything more than that little baby cradled in your arms. You never want to let them go into the world where they can get hurt. You want to hold them forever where you know nothing can hurt them," he said, but began to choke up, "And to know that I'll never get that with you kills me. It literally feels like a knife in my heart. I never got to hold you or feed you or change you or soothe you. I never got to hear your first words or see your first steps. I never got to lay a wet cloth on your head when you were sick or carry you up to bed when you fell asleep on my chest. I never got to wipe away your tears when you skinned your knee or check under your bed for monsters." At this point he wept openly. Holding onto the couch to keep himself from collapsing.
I felt a strange wetness envelope my eyes. "Stop," I pleaded.
He struggled to get through the words. "I never got to kiss you or hug you or praise you or tell you how you mean the world to me. And I know I can never make that up to you, but never, ever doubt if I loved you. I would give the world to change the day you were born. Just to be able to tell my little, tiny girl, all 5 pounds 11 ounces of her-" Peeta cried.
I felt my knees growing weaker. "Peeta, please," I begged.
"-how much her daddy loved her," he murmured.
Katniss came beside him and slowly shushed his cries as he sobbed noisily into his hands.
I paced around the floor, gripping my scalp. "This isn't fair. Nothing's fair," I exclaimed, frustrated. "I have spent my whole life wondering why my parents didn't love me. Wondering who they were and why they gave me up. I have spent the past few days beating my brains out of why I'm so angry with you and the goddamn world that did this to me. I've been killing myself trying to figure out why I can't forgive you so we can be a family. Do you even know the emotional mess I am? I can't seem to stop crying and being angry with everyone and everything. I can't look at myself in the mirror because I don't see me, I see you and Katniss, and it makes me die every time. I can't feel anything but anger. You don't understand anger is all I have. There's no room for anything else and yet if I lose it, I have nothing," I bawled. "Without it I am nothing. I will wither away."
Peeta looked to me with bloodshot eyes and reached out. "You're not nothing. You're our baby girl. Come here, honey.
I wanted to. I yearned for their loving touch. I had never been truly held or loved my entire life. I wanted to know how it felt. How it felt to be someone's little girl. I so badly wanted Peeta to hold me, and Katniss to stroke my hair. I just wanted my parents.
But I couldn't bring myself to do it. As much as I wished I could forgive them, I wasn't ready. I couldn't seem to release my anger because then I'd have to be vulnerable. And the past 16 years I hid that side of me, and there was no way I could let them see me fall apart. Right now, vulnerable wasn't an option.
I shook my head. "I can't," I whispered, biting my lip. The tears flowed down my cheeks. "I'm sorry, I just can't!"
With that I ran off toward my room. I heard Peeta's voice call after me and his plodding footsteps behind me, but I didn't stop. I couldn't. I just prayed he wouldn't catch me. If he did, I would crumble and no one ever could put me back together.
