THE LIE

Chapter 10

Thank you all for your reviews - you guys Rock - I won't be updating as much - gotta get back to My stories now that class is finished...use what I learned to ramp up my lovely nightmares and make my monsters eat souls of sorrow - yes I am jumping the shark on HG and going darkside - wanna watch? Keep reading. Please check out my profile and stop by my blog! Booksandmusic97 & marblesharp - you guys have been awesome!

Starry starry night

Paint your palet blue and grey
look out on a summer's day
with eyes that know the darkness in my soul

_Panem archive of song conservation – restoration department

The house is still dark and Cinna doesn't want to be here. He reachs out and knocked softly. Cinna only came because he saw something he didn't want to contemplate. From his room upstairs he'd watched Peeta make his way across the street to his house. He had seen Katniss appear and stand there as if a trapped animal was seeing its doom. He hears her call to Peeta in the breeze oozing lazily through the window. Peeta refuses to speak to her. Cinna couldn't blame him; she seemed to only want the company of Haymitch. Peeta had slipped into his house quickly, but no lights came on immediately. Then the entire house lit up from the master control as Katniss had plodded slowly across the street as if being pulled by a leash. Peeta is afraid of Haymitch too.

Haymitch is dead, but. But. Cinna wonders if she is crazy or if the shadow that seems to hover near her could be real. Either it is real or he's going mad too. He had stood up, as she'd burst into the house during dinner, trying to see her face. He saw that look of determination on her brow, and the emptiness in her eyes. He'd put it there, with his makeup stunt and there hadn't been a moment since he'd done it, that he'd seen anything but despair. Theoretically he knew she'd saved his life and that he was lucky. Slavery, even to Katniss, was where the problem came in. To be owned by anyone was abhorrent to Cinna.

Of course, he was now the slave of a slave. Katniss, he knew, was not speaking of her own bondage. He had tried to speak to her, waiting for a chance. He had explained the situation to Peeta, but something had occurred there too that he never expected. Peeta had looked at her with nothing but disgust, since she'd come back that night. Cinna had begged him to reach out to her and he'd dropped his eyes and said "No. Cinna she doesn't want me. If she did, she would not be pushing me away. I can't even look at that thing, and she keeps it with her all the time. Those are chunks of someone we loved stuck on the weapon she used to torture him. I can't look at it without seeing her smile as she set him on fire. My Katniss died. They both died, you know. She is more with him now, than with us. You know what I mean."

Cinna did know. He pretended that he didn't see the way Katniss seemed to bring darkness with her into a room, but it had been nearly smothering on the train. Cinna had gone next door twice since they arrived, but as he approached the house each time, he'd been so filled with dreadful panic he'd been unable to force himself to knock. The room he stays in has two windows; one faces the road, the other her house. Late at night, sound carries from there. He had heard her arguing just moments before every thing changed.

He'd watched her circle Peetas house, but not knock on the door. Then he'd seen her circle around this house. He had just caught a glimpse of her as she'd stumbled toward that house he had basically refused to enter. That place gave him chills. He'd stood at the window trying to sort out the events. She had looked absurd wearing the cast off rags she'd dressed herself in. The others had wondered why she wanted the formals; it wasn't like she had anyplace to wear them. She had left without a word to him but the realization that she had not requested him to alter anything for the funeral tomorrow bothered him. Surely she didn't intend to wear any of the things she'd left with, to the memorial ceremony to bury Haymitch. She would be unable to put them on alone and they were far too glitzy for a funeral.

She had not asked him to assist her tomorrow. Mistress Everdeen had been a terrible master really, not even checking to see if he contemplated escape. It wasn't as if she'd beaten him again or anything. Not like those first moments, when her whip had descended every time he was hesitant to answer. That had stung his heart more then his body. The humiliation he'd felt, strapped before her naked and helpless had factored into his anger that night. Knowing she could command his life, had filled him with hate. His involuntary reaction to her in the most degrading way possible had made her eyes shine in laughter and the president had pretended shock. She signed for him and he assumed he knew his new purpose.

She didn't take Peeta's outburst well, but how could she have done all the things she had done? Cinna had lost everything and she had ordered him to make a dress she liked, for once. Katniss had wounded him to the soul, that she could have not liked the costumes he'd considered his masterpieces. He had put such pride into her and she had utterly crushed it with her little comments. He would rather be dead then feel like his work was nothing to her. Slave? Vindictive creature angered at his own creation behind his placid face. He had waited for her to say something about the new duties she would require of him. He had made her look like an object with only one purpose, testing the fates to destroy his girl on fire. Now he grasps how well it had worked. His intent that night was a greater shame to him now than any of the tormenting, life saving, measures she had taken to preserve his existence.

The renowned stylist stayed busy enough since being forced into this godforsaken hole that he could pretend he didn't notice. The mockingjay would need him tomorrow. She had said nothing about Haymitch's funeral, the only one to not speak of it. Maybe she didn't plan to attend. Maybe she would watch it from home. All the victors were to be buried in the afternoon. Finnick and Mags from district four were expected to have the largest turnout. They say the capital is nearly deserted, for anyone of any connection had filled the trains to district four. Each district had experienced an unprecedented influx of visitors, each of the old victors had fans. The locals had rented out rooms in their homes and were themselves camping on their boats to cash in on the funereal chaos. There had been sixteen suicides already and district four was near disintegration.

Haymitch would be lucky if he attracted more than twenty true mourners. Others would come to say they watched him laid to rest, so they could whisper about Katniss, the monster, and say they stood near her. But it would be a much more sedate affair here than what would occur at Finnick's. Strangely, it was rumored that Heavensbee had been named as a pallbearer. He himself and the Mellark boys would probably have to step in, because those Haymitch had named, had died with him, or by his hand in some cases.

He had altered a deep charcoal suit for Peeta yesterday. He'd reworked suits for all the Mellark boys, including Peeta's dashing older brother, and even produced a deep ebony dress for Mrs. Everdeen. Cinna had fitted little darling Prim in deep china blue to match her eyes. She did look like Peeta. She was perhaps taking Haymitch's death harder than anyone save Katniss. Prim demanded that she be allowed to speak and she fiercely intended to tell the world what a wonderful person he'd been. She and Peeta both shared a strange pastime, playing pretend that Katniss was dead rather than next-door in agony. Cinna played too.

Katniss had not requested anything from him since they arrived. She had not spoken to him much less demanded his servitude in any way. Dread fills him as he makes this swan dive of understanding. The air in the room felt stifling. She would not miss the funeral. What would she wear? He had all her trunks of cloths, untouched and stored in the small ground floor room that had become his makeshift sewing studio.

Standing in the window listening to her voice rise and fall, but unable to make out the words, he tries to come up with any explanation other than the one that has leaped into his thoughts. The temperature in the room fell remarkably frigid and the warm light from his work lamp did nothing to dispel the icy breeze that told him he was no longer alone. A shadow appears as he stares at the place wide-eyed and fearful. The familiar face, now in rage, moves from the fog of the aeons and glares at him. The lips move, but no sound follows as Cinna covers his mouth in horror. Haymitch is with him, trying to say something and pointing toward his former house. The vision only lasts for five or six heartbeats then the image and the cold are gone. Cinna didn't have to hear the words to appreciate what he'd just witnessed. Omen.

He'd stood trembling with his mouth covered to keep from screaming. Katniss must be in desperate trouble for Haymitch to be so angry. He is too numb to hurry and to afraid of what he is about to find to be calm. Opening the front door, the hot air outside and the moon seem ominous and somehow livelier in corruption. Cinna wonders if he is too young to have heart failure. "Going next door. There may be trouble." He says in his placid long practiced voice to Mrs. Everdeen and Mr. Mellark who cuddle chastely on the couch. He steps into the darkness, away from the safety of others. He wants to get Peeta to go with him, but the lights at his house seem to be blinking on and off as if he's having an electrical malfunction. "Haymitch." Cinna whispers in understanding. He hopes Peeta will understand and come too.

Peeta slips in his house, bracing himself against the door, his sobs are silent but he crumples to the floor. He just pretended not to see her. He couldn't even face her long enough to turn and acknowledge her. All he can see is the whip, the trident and the red dress. Those things are his image of her now. It had not seemed like she had to go, against her will, that night. She had somehow saved Cinna and he couldn't bear to imagine the price she had paid for his life, yet it didn't make it any less heart wrenching for him. If she had let him in afterward, wanted him, needed him. But she had said the facts as casually as breathing. They would all have her. Even that tiny sacred hope was wiped out of his life with those words.

The lights begin to waver. Peeta looks up in silence. "Power surge?" He says out loud, wanting to convince himself. The dread is so crushing it is sucking the hot air out of the stifling room. His good leg begins trying scoot his body, to back away, but the exertion is useless beings his back is already against the front door. The lights become more agitated, and though all he can think of is escape, his mind does not have the clarity to stand up, open the door and flee. The cold air caresses his face and whimpering sounds of denial begin to burst from Peeta Mellark. "No, no, no."

Each time the house goes dark, the flash of a figure stands before him. He knows who it is. He knows Haymitch has come. Peeta doesn't scream, but his breath makes fearful noisy labor as it enters and exits him at frantic pace.

The sound is warped and confused, but his old mentors voice is discernable and angry. "You going to let us both die? My blood is on her hands, but her's is on yours. Help her."

"Haymitch." Peeta whispers, holding his hands over his ears. He squeezes his eyes shut, but when he opens them Haymitch, flickering like a projection or a flame, is in his house.

"In three minutes she will be brain dead. Run Peeta. If you ever loved her or me ….Run!"

Peeta screams at the apparition. "It's what she wants. She died the day she picked up that trident!"

"Choose Peeta. Love or Pride. You don't get a second chance to save her this time boy." The ghost bent down to him with a look of disgust. "To bad for her. I always thought she was the selfish one. Should have let you die in the river. She'd be over you by now, and I might be alive."

The lights continue to flicker and some of the bulbs begin popping. The pace takes on the mood of the angry shadow that has crossed threshold and worlds to speak to him. Peeta just sits, trying to breathe and think clearly. His mind plays a trick on him, showing him a daydream, a premonition, a revelation.

He approaches the dark blue coffin, the victor seal emblazoned on the side, but the casket is smaller than he remembers. The lid lifts and the reason for the diminutive size is clear. Her face is cold and painted, to hide the death that has crept upon her. He won't ever know if she could have loved him forever, because he didn't love her enough to try.

In the meadow two stones jut forlorn and alone. They belong to two long dead victors, nobody remembers except the crazy drunken district 12 mentor. People don't meet his eyes as he limps by on his latest leg replacement. He has not brought home a winner in thirty years and says he never will. They say he was handsome once, and in love with some doomed girl. He lives alone out there in a crumbling mansion. The houses out there are said to be haunted.

"Katniss." He shouts and begins scrambling to his rickety feet. He opens the door and begins stumbling in his lopsided prostheticly guided run.

Cinna, heart feeling like it has lost all hope of rhythm, knocks on the door harder and lets out a yelp when from behind he feels himself shoved. He is pushed so roughly, it causes him to crash forward and the door's broken latch gives way, tumbling Cinna into the foyer of the house and onto the floor. On his knees he can see the movement. Someone flies in the darkness in a graceful arc. No, she's not flying. The eyes are relaxed but still open and the tongue is beginning to peek from between the blue lips. The girl on fire twirls. The involuntary shudder and the release of urine is what give him hope that he can get her down. He springs into action as he screams for someone to help him. As he pulls the noose from her neck, lifting her, what feels like dead weight, the lights flicker on without human hand and faces begin appearing in the doorway.

Haymitch has been busy.

Mrs. Everdeen looks at Herb in confusion at the man named Cinna's actions. He is so very strange but she can't help but like him. She knows Katniss well enough to know that she won't share what is going on with her, but there are such odd undercurrents in the air. Prim is so angry. Prim won't listen to anything. She is at that age.

Herb shrugs and shakes his head helplessly. "I do not understand any of them now. My son is in denial and she is not catatonic, just painfully aware of her position. Do you know what her words meant to me, Lily? Her eyes in merry acceptance of my delusion… as if it were not a betrayal. As if you and I were tolerable… as if we could be real."

She pats his arm. "Our dream Herb. Our punishment for long ago, is over at last. She was just the first to see redemption. I hope her own does not take as long…"

"Was that a scream?"

"Oh no…" Lily and Herb rush out the front door following the frantic sound of terror.

Katniss stands next to Haymitch watching them fuss over the part that once was a girl filled with spirit and belief that hope was possible. She has escaped from that prison, but she knows the binds have not been cut yet. "Idiots. I should have gone into the forest and gone to the Dule Tree. Next time I will. See if you can direct them to that." She says frowning at her mentor.

" Next time? Means you intend to live now. That's a start." He growls back.

"It is a waste of effort." She says with finality.

"Thought you said nobody loved you. Is it that hard to admit you were wrong, sweetheart? Look at all this pain you have wrought. Makes me feel all warm and fuzzy for you."

"Shut up, Haymitch or I swear I will haunt one of them into thinking they should just stick me in the box with you." She says with a disgusted scowl.

"You wouldn't dare. Eternity with you? I am in hell, and it is more ghastly than I ever imagined."

She laughs. "I knew you'd miss me."

"I would prefer it for a while Katniss. Please go back." He says softly, without guile.

"I can't." she looks at his eyes pleading with him to understand.

"Did I misjudge you? Could my daughter be so weak and wretched?"

"You were not exactly a pillar of strength Papa. You spent years existing, but not living. I could stand all of them not caring. I could. But when I killed you, I lost my sister. I can't exist with her hatred. I won't waste the effort to exist, when everything I do, is the action of a monster."

"If I can fix that, would you help me do what we discussed? The rebellion has been crushed with this quell Katniss. Only you can make it burn again. I have never lied to you about how hard it will be on you and they will hate you for a while, but it could get better, if you have the will to sacrifice and survive."

"You are dead. I almost am. Who cares? Let it go Haymitch. It isn't our fight any more. We don't belong here. It all just feels like a bad dream. I like it here in the peaceful….."

Haymitch grabs her by the arm. "Don't do that Katniss." He shouts and all turn as objects fly around the room crashing and spinning of their own accord.

"Don't do what?" she asks kindly a serene smile on her lips.

"Don't you dare find peace on me. You will not move on. We have unfinished business and you have an unfinished life. What if it were Prim laying on that floor, causing all this suffering. Would you let her whisp away to the restful places? Because if you do this to her, I promise you a day will come when she hates herself enough to follow you."

Anger blazes in her. "What do you know? You're just afraid there really is a hell and you will be put in charge!"

He leans in to her commanding and overbearing. He bends down and kisses her cheek, then her forehead. "Already been, sweetheart. Sent me back. You are my punishment."

"And mine. Hello sugar. Is that really what you picked to commit suicide in? Those shorts looked bad on Haymitch. They certainly do nothing for you."

Katniss smiles at the newcomer, dressed in skimpy flowing white robes.

Well most want her to die - but you do want to see what's in the diary. Did you catch the identity of her second ghost? I know lets go ask Prim what she thinks - we will let her decide what to do with Katniss - I want her to live - but I like to torture things-stay away from the light Katniss! Don't look in the light! I know it's just a sideline story - but I love that Peeta's Dad and Mrs. Everdeen have some back story - and I like that they have found a little light in the darkness -what do you guys think - Herb and Lily Mellark? That would complicate - Peeta and Katniss - Go kiss your half sisters, half brother before he becomes your Steppy-bro. Fake cousin Gale may be a better choice -but Haymitch has a really icky pairing in mind - for his beloved little girl - they don't call me Howlynn for my sunshine and buttercups and …rainbows. grin (Psst -my class is over - welcome to the beaches of hell little ones….fair warning….sold…..keep reading at your own peril. )