May the Odds be Ever in Your Favor: Part II
District 7
The moment District 7's mayor left her, Camellia's steely facade vanished almost at once.
She sank down in her chair, trying to stifle the tears for the sake of her family and District.
She had to think rationally, the realist she was. It was time to start accepting what had happened, and start making plans. It was the only way she would survive the arena.
At that moment, the door opened and her mother Daisy and her sister Maple entered. Maple was strewn to pieces, eyes red and nose watery. The continous sobs of the ten-year-old did nothing to improve Camellia's mood, and neither did Daisy's stricken and hopeless face that clearly stated she did not expect her daughter to even survive the bloodbath.
"Mother. I know I won't survive."
Daisy nodded her head, accepting what was about to come.
"But maybe, just maybe-" Camellia took a deep breath. "Maybe, a miracle would happen. My job as a lumberjack and a nurse equipped me with both fighting and medical skills, which will give me a good advantage in the arena. Not enough to beat the Careers perhaps, but enough to beat some others. And Maple has already given me another advantage in the Reapings - it will be clear to the Capitol that she cares deeply for me, and I can play with the prospect of our relationship."
Daisy was stunned to hear her daughter, always so quiet and obedient, speak out in such a way. Maple was as well, and gradually her sobs recedes to soft sniffles.
"Camellia." Daisy leaned forward, her body shaking. "Please know that… whatever happens, I loved you more than anything."
Anything.
"Maple, the necklace, please." Startled at her mother's unusually harsh tone, Maple handed it over without trouble. "Wear it and remember us in the arena. It'll give you courage."
"Mother…" Camellia's voice trailed into the distance.
"Your father would have been proud."
With that statement Daisy left the room, along with a sniffling Maple before the Peacekeepers could escort them out. Camellia was left alone in the room, clutching her birthday necklace and shaking with grief and desperation.
The door proceded to open once more, to Camellia's surprise. Her fellow nurse and lumberjack, Tullia, entered. Like Camellia she worked two jobs, but had taken care of her two younger brothers alone ever since her mother and father perished from hypothermia.
They had never been friends though. Both kept to themselves, only sprouting conversation when required.
"Tullia, what-"
"I'm sorry I didn't volunteer."
The statement left Camellia blank.
"We've worked together for three years. I should have-"
"It wasn't your fault. We barely spoke to each other." Camellia interrupted.
"I'm sorry, though. I'm sorry that this happened to you."
"I won't die. I refuse to."
Tullia smiled sadly. "Is that a promise?"
"If you need me to, yes."
"Good luck, Camellia. May the odds be ever in your favor. I'm sorry that we never got to know each other."
"Tullia… I…"
"It's Tully. You can call me Tully." With that, Tullia abrutly left the room, leaving a confused Camellia behind.
No one expects me to even make it past the Bloodbath, Camellia realized bitterly. But I will!
Five years ago, no one had expected her to survive with a sick mother and a dead father and an five-year-old sister. No one had expected her to get both jobs as a nurse and a lumberjack. But she had. Against all odds, Camellia had survived that ordeal.
So why not now?
Rowan knew that he would not enjoy saying his goodbyes.
When his parents entered the room, everything turned out exactly as he had expected. His hysterical mother started to cry, his furious father started to yell, and his sister Prairie stood rigid in the doorway.
"You are an idiot, Rowan," she said calmly througg all the noise.
"I couldn't stand Darren getting Reaped, alright? He's been my best friend ever since we were-"
"I don't care!" his father shouted, standing up from his chair. "Rowan, you-"
"I understand perfectly what the Hunger Games are, Father," Rowan responded. "I also know that I probably won't be coming back. But going down with saving my best friend's life- well, I can live with that. Or die with that, for that matter."
"How noble." Prairie mocked. "Brother, I never thought of you as such."
"Get out of here, Prairie. You're making things worse."
"There is a reason why there are no twelve-year-old Victors," Prairie added. "Did you ever wonder why, Rowan? May the odds be ever in your favor, and try to get an alliance. Only chance you'll survive."
With that his sister was out of the door, leaving Rowan to take care of his parents. Eventually their time ran out and Rowan's parents were dragged from the room, one hysterical and the other furious.
Rowan was glader to see the Brights family, who thanked him endlessly for saving their son. Darren was actually crying though, saying that Rowan would die and it would all be his fault. Rowan shrugged it off, saying that it was worth it.
To his surprise, a stream of visitors followed the Brights, most of them visitors of the Wintermute bakery. They all told him one or the other- that he was an idiot and he would perish painfully in the arena, and the other that he had been extremely noble to do such a thing and would surely come home. Rowan told them, the pessimist he was, that he would die, but he would die happily knowing that he had at least saved somebody.
Inside though, Rowan couldn't help panicking. He had accepted he was going to die, but he was afraid of what would come after. Oblivion? Darkness? Reincarnation? What would happen? Rowan didn't believe in God, but he sincerely hoped that there would be a place for him to rest in after his death.
But like most hopes, it would be only too soon to be snuffed out and gone.
Forgotten.
District 8
When the District 8 mayor finally left the room, Ekaterina sighed in relief. She cared little for his words and knew that there was little chance she would even survive the Bloodbath.
The next moment Ekaterina's parents entered the room and smoldered their daughter with words or concerns and fright. Just like she had done with
the mayor, Ekaterina continued to shrug their comments off, uncomfortable and unwilling to show emotion.
At last three minutes passed and tearfully Ekaterina's parents left the room, mourning already for their child who they knew would not return.
Next entered Lacey, who Ekaterina nodded to. She hadn't volunteered for her, but Ekaterina didn't have that against her.
"How's Claire?"
"Recovering," Lacey responded. "I… I'm sorry this happened to you, Ekaterina."
"No." Ekaterina replied. "It was all fate at the end." Lacey leaned closer.
"I know you're a good medic."
"I haven't worked in the apothecary for a whole year."
"Still, you have a chance. You aren't so familiar with herbs, but you're a master in first-aid."
Ekaterina couldn't help but smile at that. "Couldn't you have thought of that before you took my job?"
Lacey wasn't offended though and continued, "You're a tough too, with your years at the factory. I hear that you can't survive there if you don't know how to fight."
"That's true," admitted Ekaterina.
"It's rare when a tribute has both these skills."
Lacey continued to gaze into Ekaterina's eyes, until Peacekeepers entered the room and she broke it away.
"It's time to go," she said, almost to herself. But before she left the room, she called out, "may the odds be ever in your favor!"
Ekaterina swallowed. She gave a rare smile towards the medic as she left and tried to suppress her own cascading emotions.
The door opened again, to Ekaterina's surprise. Next entered a dark-haired woman, ragged and dirty.
The prophetess, Ekaterina realized. In District 8, some people claimed that they could see the future, and became prophetesses, receiving money for few hints of the future. It was all rubbish, of course. Something only desperate people were desperate enough to believe in.
Though, it wasn't something Ekaterina exactly needed now.
"Ekaterina Sacremoto," the prophetess announced. Ekaterina felt herself tensing, fearing what was about to come.
"Get out of here." Ekaterina barely even managed a whisper.
"Glory… glory and honor."
"Get the fuck out of here!"
"The 76th Victor, I fear, will be a Career. But if you twist those odds…"
Peacekeepers came rushing into the room following Ekaterina's command.
"Twisted odds, twisted fate!" the prophetess cried. Twist those odds, and fate will be twisted!"
Ekaterina sat, shaking as the door banged close.
Fate had never been kind to her. So why should it be now?
Delvin sat in his room, soft tears falling down his face as he did.
He had only been glad to have been Reaped so he didn't have to become a prostitute. But now, sitting in that empty room, Delvin found himself scared and afraid.
When the door opened next it was his fellow worker Cynthia entering. As soon as she saw him, she wrapped her arms around him tightly. Delvin stayed stiff though, unwilling to show emotion. As Cynthia slowly released him, Delvin sat back down on his chair quickly, whole body shaking.
After... the encounter... Delvin had become extremely become touchy of physical contact, even if it was from someone he almost considered for a friend.
He didn't mention it though. He knew that Cynthia had meant well.
"Thank you for coming," he quietly said, before realizing he sounded too dismissal. However Delvin didn't move to correct it.
"I had to see you." Cynthia didn't seem to mind. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry about everything."
"It's alright. I've already accepted that I'm going to die,"
"You can't do that!" Cynthia's eyes widened. "Have you already given up?"
"I suppose you can sort of say that."
"Oh, Delvin..."
"Don't do that," he warned, "Don't oh me."
"I'm sorry. But please, you can't give up! You have to come back! Then you can have your revenge to-"
"Except I won't be coming back!" Delvin was shouting now, tears flowing down his face. "There are fully trained Careers out there, Cynthia! Fully trained Careers that want to kill me and the rest! I'm not going to survive!"
"Yes, you are." Cynthia's blue eyes were filled with tears. "Keep this and remember us. The District, I, need you to come home. Don't be selfish. Every time you want to give up, look and remember." She handed him an old, worn piece of patterened clothing. She then raced out of the room before Delvin could hand it back, sobs shaking her body as she did.
Delvin was left with the cloth, hoping to the divinities that, at least, when he died, the cloth would be with him, that he wouldn't have to die alone.
District 9
From all his time as the leader of the District, the District 9 mayor had never seen a tribute so desolate.
Sure, they had broke down and cried. They had gone hysterical and screamed. They had gone stone-faced and silent.
But with fourteen-year-old Andrea Evelyn Swain, this seemed not the case.
She was silent and calm, scared and unafraid, all at once. There was a desolate aura around of her of sorts that not many could tell what it was.
As the mayor left the room, Andrea buried her face in her hands and sighed. She sat up quickly though as her next visitor entered.
Her brother Nox came through the doorway, though without the company that Andrea had feared.
It was just him and her, the way it had always been.
"Andrea." Nox wasn't crying, either. He was the way he had always been; strong, brave, calm.
"I'm sorry," Andrea managed to whisper. That was the only thing she could say.
After a long silence, Nox spoke.
"She would be coming in soon."
Andrea groaned and buried her head back into her hands again.
"She only wants to be nice to ne just in case I become Victor me just in case I become Victor."
"Andrea, listen to me," Nox crouched down, leveling himself the same height as his sister. "I . . . I know I've never expressed it, but I love you. I've always have. If I had been a girl . . . " Nox paused. "I would have volunteered for you in matter of seconds."
"I believe you," Andrea whispered. "And I love you too."
The siblings stood in an emotional silence before Nox stood up, embraced Andrea tightly, and left the room.
Next entered her aunt Grace, who Andrea was certaintly much more unpleasant to see.
Grace had her blonde hair in a bun, smooth skin and her voice was charming - as it was when she was outside.
"Andrea, dear."
"Don't dear me," Andrea fired back. Grace's eyes flashed with blue fire, but when she spoke again, her voice was moderate.
"You don't look too pleased to see your aunt."
"I'm not."
"Andrea, this could be the last time we could see each other. After your mother - my sister - died, I grieved. I'm sorry if you were hurt by my actions."
She speaks lies.
"You were glad to take her house and money," Andrea argued. "You only took us because the orphanage forced you to, you old hag!"
Grace managed to look shocked.
"Honestly, there's no need to be so harsh, Andrea."
"Get out of here! Now! Don't you think I know you only came here because you wanted a piece of my victor when I become Victor? Yeah, I said it! I'm going to be Victor of the 76th Hunger Games! And the first thing I'll do is to make you live on the streets while Nox and I live in Victor's Village!"
Grace trudged out of the room, face furious. Andrea sat back down on her chair, sighing.
She wasn't as sure as her words had been.
Would she really become Victor? Or was it only a matter of time before her life was snuffed out like twenty-two others were?
"Taylor."
Taylor looked up at the familiar voice, to see a crying Shiloh. His twin was crying, actually crying.
And Shiloh never cried.
She was the tough one from birth. When six-year-old Taylor had been scared of little piglets, she had already touched a poisonous snake. When he had screamed at school when Kyron Osbourne had slipped a spider inside his desk as a joke, Shiloh had carried it outside without a sound.
Shiloh was always the stronger one, perhaps because being older by several minutes.
And now…
"Marissa will be here soon," Shiloh warned, snapping Taylor out of his thoughts.
"Marissa? Shiloh, can't you-"
"This could be the last time you are seeing her," Shiloh informed him. Taylor stayed silent at that.
"And Taylor…" Shiloh sighed softly. "Mom and Dad won't be coming in. They don't want to see you, and it's just going to make it harder for them."
Taylor nodded. "I understand."
"I'm glad you do."
Tears fell from Shiloh's eyes, quickly and softly. "Taylor, whatever happens, remember that we love you. We all do."
"I love you too," Taylor responded two siblings stood in an emotional silence before Peacekeepers entered the room.
"It's time to go," Shiloh said softly; sadly. "I love you, brother."
Before Taylor could say anything, his twin was out of the room, leaving him alone.
Until the door opened again and his girlfriend entered the room.
Taylor had stood up before he even realized it.
The two was locked in a tight kiss before neither of them even knew it. They expressed their love for each other in that short minute, crying and kissing and hugging all at once. It was like they were trying to give each other all the love they had ever wanted or needed before they were forever separated by the darkest grim reaper named death.
"Come b-back, will you?" Marissa was sobbing, unable to control her hysteria. "P-please come back, Taylor."
"I … " Taylor knew that no wasn't possible as an answer. "Marissa, Marie, I can't promise that I'll come back, because that's not true." He broke away from their embrace, looking into Marissa's eyes. Green and black met, one steady and the other shaking.
"I've never lied to you, and I won't now. But … " Taylor lost his courage for a moment, breaking down internally. "B-but I wish more than anything that I c-could n-n-now."
"Taylor."
"I love you, Marissa."
"Taylor!"
Peacekeepers stormed into the room. Marissa didn't even try to resist, black eyes completely losing hope. Taylor felt his heart shatter as Marissa was dragged out of the room, with those hopeless eyes of hers.
More people entered, more than Taylor cared to count in the world. Old family friends, school friends, et cetera - his mind was only filled with those black eyes, and the shattering pain in his heart.
When Marissa had left the room that second, something in Taylor's heart had vanished, had disappeared completely. Had dissipated.
Had simply gone.
And he feared that he would never get it back.
District 10
Bitterness and fury stormed through Idoya's body as the District 10 mayor left.
First, her father leaving. Falling into poverty. Her, taking heed of the family. And now this.
Her family entered, her mother Lotte looking exhausted as she always did, and holding a red-eyed Jemina's hand.
As soon as she saw Idoya, Jemina ran to her arms. Idoya tried not to cry, reminding herself that she had to be strong for her family.
"I'm tough," she promised, speaking to Jemina but more to her mother. "I'm strong; I've been working hard ever since Dad left us. I know what suffering is and what it means. And I also know that - " Idoya took a breath. "That Panem is not exactly a welcoming world. It is a cruel society of a system of kill or be killed. I believe that this is wrong, but sometimes, you have to obey it. It is better than death.
"I promise that I will come back, because we deserve it, all of us. Ever since Dad left, we've been the lowest of the lowest. This is a chance to turn our lives around. Maybe, me getting Reaped is a lifetime chance. Chances pass quickly, and we have to be strong and intelligent enough to grasp it in our hands. I believe I have all those traits."
"Those are brave words," Lotte agreed. Idoya saw her mother blink, and realized that Lotte was trying not to cry. "Dear Idoya, may the odds be ever in your favor." She failed to do so however, tears falling softly and swiftly from her eyes.
Idoya gently pushed Jemina away, and smiled sadly as her family left the room.
Her anger was gone now, replaced by only misery.
Next entered her childhood friend, Sabrina Woodrow. It was then when Idoya realized their years of friendship, however close, was not as deep as she had imagined. Sabrina hadn't volunteered for her … and Idoya realized, if Sabrina had been Reaped, she would have failed to volunteer in her place as well.
Sabrina however did not seem to notice this.
The fourteen-year-old pushed herself into Idoya's arms as soon as she entered the room. Idoya stayed rather stiff though, affronted and angered.
She soon realized that it wasn't worth it, though. She would have done the same thing anyway.
Grudges can be dangerous, Idoya recovered another life lesson from her mother. So let go of them. It wasn't the easiest thing in the world to do, but this may be the last time she saw Sabrina.
So Idoya tightly embraced her best friend, whose face was full with tears.
"I'm sorry," Sabrina cried into her arms. "I'm sorry that I didn't volunteer."
"You are fourteen," Idoya responded. "I'm sixteen. I have a greater chance in the Games. It was a good thing that you didn't volunteer for me."
"What was I doing? I'm such an idiot! I would have volunteered for you in an instant, and I was standing there like a statue - "
"It's done. And we can't change the past."
"Idoya, you're like my big sister. I … I can't lose you."
"You won't," Idoya promised.
"You're lying."
"I … I promise."
Sabrina said nothing, but hesitance flickered in her eyes and Idoya knew that she hadn't managed to convince her.
"This is your token," Sabrina said at last, clutching the blue bandanna bracelet that Idoya had on her wrist. "You're allowed to take one thing from your home to the arena. This will be a keepsake, a reminder of who you are and how many people are waiting for you to come home."
Sabrina no longer sounded fourteen at the shadow of death. Her eyes were much older, aged and grieved like she had already lost somebody else.
"Idoya Meneses." Sabrina held her hand tightly. "We'll wait for you. You wander into that dark road called the Hunger Games alone, but this token will be your torch that lights your way back."
Tears fell, gently and silently. Idoya no longer knew whose they were.
"Come back, and you'll receive honor and love. Happiness awaits, if you manage to return."
Then Sabrina was gone and out of sight, leaving Idoya's tears to fall alone.
Cameron said nothing as his family entered. It was better to say nothing instead of something.
"Cameron..." Totill, his nineteen-year-old brother, sighed deeply. "This shouldn't have happened."
"But it did," responded his father bleakly. Totill rounded on his father, eyes flashing.
"If I had been of Reaping age... I would have volunteered in an instant."
"Really?" Cameron spoke for the first time, doubt filling his eyes. Totill and he had never been close, although there had only been one year between them. Totill was occupied with getting a good job in the District after leaving school and Cameron was occupied with the bullying.
"Always," Totill replied. Cameron raised his eyebrows, surprised of his brother's certainty.
Another reason for me to feel guilty, Cameron thought. He shouldn't want more than what he had now. His brother would volunteer to die for him. His parents cared, cared so much that they would speak in such a bleak tone. His girlfriend Ezriel loved him.
He had almost everything a District 10 citizen could want.
"Goodbye, Cameron," his mother murmured, passing a hand over his cheek. Cameron realized then no one held hope for him. Their eyes were solemn and empty, accepting the fate that would soon befall their son and brother.
They believed that he would die in the Bloodbath. That it might be for the better, for he wouldn't have to go through so much suffering if he did survive that.
Maybe they're right.
His family left the room before their three minutes were over, his mother crying and his father broken, his brother empty and angry.
His beautiful girlfriend Ezriel entered the room next.
Cameron remembered clearly how they had met, three years ago:
He had been fifteen years old, Ezriel fourteen, and Cameron's family had saved up enough to move to a better and newer house. Ezriel had become his neighbor, and the two had become close during their winter break.
When they had gone back to school, his bullying had continued. Cameron had come home with bruises and scratches.
One day, Ezriel had been present in a beating in the backalley of the school. She had stood up for him, telling them that they were cowards and they ought to be ashamed. Aaron and his lackeys had gone home that day, and Cameron had been left alone.
It was a year later when they started dating each other.
With blonde hair and dark blue eyes, Ezriel was a rare beauty in District 10. Those blue eyes Cameron had always loved were breaking down into liquid now, tears streaming down her pale cheeks.
"Cameron," Ezriel said. "Oh, Cameron. If only I had been a boy..."
"Then we'd have never dated each other," Cameron responded. Ezriel half-laughed, half-cried.
"I'm glad that you are my boyfriend."
"I'm glad that you are my girlfriend."
The couple gazed into each other's eyes... for what would probably be the last time. The girl was the first to break away, but when she silently left, there were tears in both of their eyes.
District 11
As expected, Shellby's mother had failed to make it to her goodbyes.
So the last glance she had had of her mother was her sick form back in the morning.
Her siblings Acacia, Robin, Liam, and Fern were led into the room by their present oldest sibling, ten-year-old Noah instead.
It was chaos.
The twins were crying, wailing their grief to the sky. They didn't know, not to the full extent, what the 'Hunger Games' were and what they meant. They only knew that something bad had happened, and soon their sister would go away forever. As Noah phrased it, she would be in a 'very, very deep sleep'.
Eight-year-old Acacia was monotonous as usual. Her emotions had not deviated from her usual state. Despite knowing what kind of emotional state she was in, Shellby couldn't help but feel slightly irritated.
She was going to her death, and her sister didn't even seem to care.
She's not stable, Shellby told herself. You've got to understand. What kind of older sister was she?
"Look," Shellby started, knowing that they all needed to understand. Even Noah didn't understand what was happening completely. "I'm going on a journey of sorts."
"A journey?" squeaked Fern, not understanding. "Can I come too?" Robin and Liam blinked, wondering what on earth was going on.
"No," Shellby responded, almost immediately. "You'll get to go later."
"When?" Acacia asked quietly.
"It'll be a while." Not for a long, long time, I hope. "I'm going to stay there for quite a time. It's our new home, and it's a wonderful place."
"Does it have food?" Fern squeaked.
"Of course," Shellby promised, heart aching. "But you've got to understand, to get to this new home, you have to wait for a long time. A long, long time. I'll be preparing our new home up, so we can't go together. Noah will take care of you. Mom is coming with us as well. But if you wait, one day, we'll all be there laughing and eating and resting." I have to believe that. I have to. "When each of you turn twelve years old, ask Noah what exactly happened this morning. She'll tell you everything."
The words did not register with the young children. Fern smiled happily, excited at the prospect of a new home; Robin and Liam stopped crying and began to join their sister in her smiling contest; Acacia was monotone, but that was usual; and Noah shook with the knowledge that she had been given. That her amazing older sister, their caretaker, their real mother, would not be returning.
"I love you." Noah whispered into her sister's ears. Shellby smiled sadly, accepting her fate and what was about to befall her.
"Don't let them watch. I don't want you to watch, but … someone … I want someone to know what happened to me, how I died, someone to explain to those kids what did happen."
"They won't remember you well," Noah warned. "Acacia and I will, but not the others."
"They will remember that they had an older sister who went off in a journey one day," Shellby promised. "Thank you for helping me out. It's your time to take care of this family now."
Noah began to cry softly, though no one else noticed except Shellby. "I don't want you to go."
"I have to," was Shellby's response. "I know you'll make me proud, sister. I love you."
It was a clear dismissal, and Noah led the others out of the room, who were still chattering about their new home and Shellby's so-called 'journey'.
It was then when Shellby's own tears finally came, and it was then when she let them fall at last.
Kestrel's goodbyes were an organized and short-timed affair. The orphanage's headmaster and owner, Dr. Keen entered the room to express his regards about Kestrel's Reaping, and how he wished him luck.
It had ended though when Kestrel had attacked the doctor, viciously and furiously.
He took me away! Kestrel thought, red filling his eyes. My family is lost because of him. It's all his fault!
So he had attacked the doctor, clawed his face and body, stamped him down with the chair, until the Peacekeepers came in and started to announce that their time was up.
They found a sweetly smiling Kestrel sitting on his chair, blood leaking from Dr. Keen's body and a red stain on the chair.
A pool of red sat beside Kestrel.
The shocked Peacekeepers were frozen till one finally snapped into attention, and ordered the others to get Dr. Keen to the apothecary.
But they all knew, no one with so much blood loss ever survived in this District …
And Kestrel was just there, smiling and laughing and with no reaction that the Peacekeepers had expected of him.
It was the final straw. His escort and mentor decided that he was fully insane.
But in this world, you had to be a little insane to win the Hunger Games …
District 12
Cassia wasn't surprised to have her only visitors the mayor, and … someone who Cassia decided not to count.
Her long-ago boyfriend nineteen-year-old Keaner entered the room, his hair still dusty and dark from his times at working in the mines.
"Cassia Wells," was were his first words. "It's been a long time."
"Three years, actually," Cassia responded.
"You're just as beautiful as then."
"Stop flirting with me, Keaner. You never came to see me after you left for your supposedly promotion. You said that a beautiful future was waiting for us. You and I, we would marry as soon as I turned eighteen and we would be stuck in poverty, but we would still be happy as long as we had each other."
Keaner glanced down at the ground. "I'm sorry about that, Cassia. It was … it was just too hard for me."
"What was too hard for you?" Cassia asked in a challenging tone. "I was fourteen and I put up with it."
Keaner pondered for a moment. Should he tell her the real truth? That he had put the happiness of the District before his own emotions? That he had stayed up all night, wondering whether to risk his life for a greater cause? Would it do her any good to tell her he had joined the rebels?
No. It would just distract her from her preparation for the Games and wouldn't be any help. So he instead responded, "the work. I loved you, but - "
"Not enough." Cassia finished the sentence for him.
"I'm sorry about your sister … Iona, was it?"
"No. Her name was Hope. Hope Wells."
"Hope." Keaner stayed silent for a moment. "District 12 needs some of that."
"You've got that right." Cassia's response was dry. "Except that it doesn't exist."
Keaner stared at her for a moment. Where had that charming, smiling, flirting fourteen-year-old had gone? He had first fallen for her by her charm, and now, it was all gone. All them seemed to be left of his beautiful girlfriend was a dark, empty shell of her. Had he really caused that?
"I'm sorry." Keaner's voice shook a little. It had all been for the greater good. But had the sacrifice had been too much?
Cassia sighed. "I've let you go a long time ago. Your apology is accepted."
Keaner stared at her for a moment, trying to drink it all in. Her face, her hair, her body … he knew that her memory would eventually fade as the years passed, no matter what he did, but at that moment, Keaner didn't care. He would've liked to stay in that moment forever, without the interference of the rebels and his complicated contacts and plans with rebels in other Districts.
"Cassia Wells." He said her name like it was magical, like she was something special. Because she was.
Cassia Wells.
She was everything to him, and she would always be.
Keaner internally wept, realizing that this would probably be the last time he would see his girlfriend again. After Katniss Everdeen coming so close to victory in the 74th Hunger Games, it was clear that Cassia would be targeted, especially by District 2. Although Cato had won that year's Games, there was still some anger and frustration in other Career Districts that a mere outlier had came so close to victory.
"I love you, Cassia," Keaner said it under his breath, unwilling for Cassia to hear yet wanting so badly for her to do so.
Cassia did not hear. She stayed immobile as Keaner left the room, with tears gathering and shaking.
It was then when Nico let all of his fury out about how much he hated the world.
When his family came in, they found a screaming, furious Nico, spitting and shrieking about how unfair the world was. They failed to calm him down, and eventually left the room when their time was up.
Amaliya was asking questions all along the three minutes, in which her parents awkwardly responded by "her brother was going into the Hungry Games … and that he would not be coming back". Amaliya failed to understand the dark meaning under their words - being too young and too little to understand - kept asking questions her parents could not or did not give answers to.
Nico calmed down once they left, realizing that screaming would do no good to him once he was in the Games. Under his quickly created mask of indifference, a scared and afraid fifteen-year-old lived behind. No one noticed, though.
Because to survive, you needed to be a good actor; a good liar. Panem wasn't a 'good' nation - that could just be proved by the Hunger Games and how much people were willing to kill, just for their own survival. And that included Nico.
Then time by time, there were people who tried to be good, tried to be good in any way that they could be in this desolate nation that was Panem.
But they were rare, and the bigger thing was that they had all failed.
Nico was standing in a division of paths. He had walked the middle one all his life, like most District 12 citizens had, but now that was no longer possible, thanks to the Reaping. He could go down rebelling or live as a Victor.
In other words, he could die nobly or live shamefully.
Of course he would live. Who wouldn't?
