Chapter 7
One time, when I was really young, my father was going out hunting to a rather dangerous part of the forest. I begged and begged to go with him until my mother had to hold me back when he left. I remember, not long after he stepped through the door, I snuck away after him. My mother was busy feeding Prim, who was just a baby at the time, so she didn't notice. Needless to say, my father caught me and brought me back.
Somehow, this story is similar to how I feel about going to the helicopter base, and then the Capitol. I know it will be dangerous, but I still really want to go, yet I feel like it will always be a little ahead of my grasp.
"I say we go!" says Finnick, after he, Gale and I converse about whether or not we'll go to the helicopter base.
"Iā¦agree," I decide firmly.
"Okay, it's a plan," Gale finishes. "But we'll have to be careful and wear the invisible suits again,"
I nod. "And somehow bring food with us and make sure we leave this place undisturbed, we'll have to leave soon and-"
I have no choice but to stop speaking when Gale's calloused thumb and forefinger pinch my lips shut.
"We leave soon," he says to me. "But not tonight,"
"Yes, not tonight," Finnick chips in. "Tomorrow,"
"Tomorrow?" gasps Gale. "We don't even have a concrete plan!"
"Yes we do," I argue. "We're leaving tomorrow,"
"Yeah, two against one, buddy," Finnick adds.
Even though I shudder to think about what the Capitol could do to Peeta in just one night, I understand we can't go on much longer without a good nights sleep.
Now that the plan is set in stone, we can afford to explore this little sanctuary further. There's not much more to observe; we've already took note of the food-filled cupboards, informative files, thirst-quenching fridge, and makeshift bedding. I have to admit, another bodily function has been nagging at me all day. I've had to use the wilderness as my washroom before, and I don't have a problem with it, but keeping invisible does provide a problem.
I'm sifting through the blankets and pillows when I hear Gale call.
"Hey, look at this!" Gale is gesturing to an additional door, easy to miss as it's the exact material of the walls.
I go over and, to my surprise, on the other side of the door is a little extension of our steel room complete with a toilet, sink and what looks like a shower, all made of white porcelain. I am a skeptical person when it comes to optimism, but this place seems pretty magical!
"Dibs!" Finnick and I call out at the same time; our unison seems to be a reoccurring theme.
Finnick wants the washroom first because he needs to make himself "beautiful". I usually wouldn't care; I've proven that cleanliness isn't my number one priority. But annoying Finnick is fun and there's not much fun left in my life, plus I'm in no way guaranteed much more life to have fun, so I duck into the room, slamming the door behind me. I hear Finnick growl behind the barrier and laugh to myself.
The warm water feels lovely on my skin. It seems a waste to have running water here, where no one can use it, but not offer it to most citizens. I guess the survivors needed it at one point.
I really hadn't noticed how grimy I've gotten. When I was more insane than now on the helicopter I wouldn't battle property and before that was the Quell so obviously not then. It really has been a while.
My hair's in a bad state as well. It's still damaged from that painful gas of the Gamemakers' creation that made us all contort like grotesque puppets. In my first Games, I was all fixed up afterwards. This time, though I was taken care of on the copter, I still have my battle scars. The most severe is the one on my arm where Johanna dug the dagger in.
I've stood in the shower for a long time, contemplating a lot of things. As the soap and water sloshes over my body I hear someone knocking rudely on the door. I'd bet my mockingjay pin it's Finnick.
"Are you almost done in there?" he asks.
I don't answer.
"Need any help? I can get the hard to reach places," I can almost hear the smirk on Finnick's face.
Rattled, I hop out of the shower, dry myself off with a towel, compliments of District 13, and throw my clothes back on. My mockingjay pin's still attached to my tank top. I open the door to find Finnick standing inches from it.
"You didn't want any help?" he asks innocently.
I just grit my teeth and walk past him, hitting him with my shoulder purposefully on the way.
Finnick laughs to himself and says, "Okay then, maybe later," then disappears into the other room.
I'm very tired and there's no way to tell, but it feels like night time. I towel dry and plait back my hair, as usual. I find Gale still pouring over the district map. Beside him is our three invisible outfits, twelve water bottles, and some of the canned food.
He sees me staring at the supplies and says, "It's all for the journey. These things have pockets, you know," he holds up a jumpsuit and shows me an invisible zipper at the back. He unzips it to reveal a stretchy pocket. "It'll be awkward to run with them full, but it's what we'll have to do. Judging by our trip here from the underground, it'll take about two days to get to the helicopter base. I'm not assuming there will be water on the copter. So we have to bring all this," he waves a hand over the collection. "You don't think it's too much, do you?"
"No," I answer. "I think it's perfect, but can we sleep now?"
My tiredness has finally gotten the best of me. Gale grins at me and takes my hand. We each take a blanket and pillow from one of the corners and set up a makeshift sleeping arrangement. When I'm finally tucked in I pull one of Gale's arms around me for extra warmth. His lips are at my temple now.
"We really could've done it you know," he says softly.
"Done what?" I ask, even though I have a hunch he's talking about what he proposed to me the morning of that terrible Reaping Day more than a year ago.
"Ran away from everything,"
"I know," I say in a voice full of sadness. "I know we could've,"
My voice cracks on "could've" so I let the tears flow freely now. I wrap my arms around Gale and stifle my cries as I fall into an uneasy sleep full of thoughts of me and Gale and what could have been. In my dreams of us running away to a simpler place, Peeta's anguished face keeps flitting in and I get even more confused.
I must've only slept for a couple of hours when I wake abruptly. I've just dreamt of another Capitol attendant torturing Peeta in another gruesome way.
I have to do something to take my mind off things, but I also want to do something productive. I spot the faded MJS book lying on the cabinet where we'd left it earlier. Maybe I'll write an entry in it, I don't know.
I walk away from Gale, who seems to be dreaming easy, that's good. Then I pass Finnick, who must've slipped in while I dreamt. His pretty face isn't serene in sleep as some people would expect; he looks terrified. He's shaking and breathing heavy. Once I hear him moan something that sounds like, "Annie,". Of course he is thinking of his Annie! I suddenly feel great pity for him.
One of his bare shoulders is sticking out from under his blanket. I bend over and tuck the blanket back over him, he looked cold. But my action didn't stop his thrashing or the terror on his face. Struck by a sudden urge, I stroke his cheek and whisper in his ear.
"Annie is okay, Finnick. She must be,"
Even though there's no way he heard me, Finnick seems to relax a little, or maybe it's just my imagination.
I continue over to the survivor's diary and open it to a blank page.
"Hi," I write awkwardly. "So, the Capitol just destroyed District 12. I'm from there and I was a tribute in the Hunger Games two times. Now the Capitol has captured my allies Peeta Mellark and Johanna Masen. I have to save them. I'm here with Finnick O'Dair, you've probably heard of him, and Gale Hawthorne. Oh and, by the way, I am Katniss Everdeen and I will not go down without a fight."
So my entry is lame but I wanted to write something. I decide that I might be able to go back to sleep now, and rifle through the diary absentmindedly. I stop flipping when I see an envelope in the back flap that intrigues me. It has already been ripped open and now the corner of a picture peaks out of the top. I pull out the photo and stare at it.
It's not posed and proper like most pictures. If you can afford family photos in District 12 you must pay an extreme fee to the town photographer. This photo looks like it was taken by a personal camera. Only the very rich have their own cameras.
In the picture are two girls who are merchant class and two boys from the Seam. They're all in their late teens or early twenties. Looking at their faces I see the girl on the left looks a lot like Prim, her long blond hair is swept back over her shoulders. After closer inspection, I realize it's my mother! I recognize her from the Reaping tape of Haymitch's Games. Encasing her are the strong arms of a man who I would recognize anywhere, my father. She is beautiful, throwing her head back and laughing and he is looking at her with the most adoring face I've ever seen. On the ring finger of her left hand is a tiny pearl ring. They were already married when this picture was taken, I recognize the engagement ring. My mother has never taken it off.
Beside my parents is another couple. At first, I am confused because the girl looks so much like my friend Madge! After thinking, I realize it must be her mother, and her mother is wearing my mockingjay pin! Holding one of her hands is the second man and I recognize him as well. It's my mentor, Haymitch Abernathy!
But this pairing doesn't make any sense! Why would Madge's mother be with Haymitch when she married the mayor of District 12?
I feel my heart freeze in my chest as my hands fumble with the picture. I've noticed the neat printed caption at the bottom of the Polaroid; four little names that are staring up at me. The first three are understandable: Pricilla Everdeen, Kral Everdeen (Pricilla and Kral are my parents' first names), Haymitch Abernathy. The fourth name, only fourteen letters, makes me question a lot. Maysilee Donner is the last name printed.
Maysilee Donner should've been dead when this picture was taken, cruel, I know, but it's dated the year after Haymitch's Games, and her supposed death.
I'm shaking and can't make a sound, so I do the only thing I can think of. I slide out the letter from the envelope, ignoring the paper cutting against my thumb, and read on, to
uncover the mystery of the girl who I had believed to be dead until moments prior to now.
