Down in the Valley: The Head and The Heart.
For thine is the kingdom,
"Johanna." My father raced after me after I stormed through our cold home, calling my name. I could hear my sisters echoing in the background.
"Don't talk to me," I barked, rolling a smooth pebble in my hand. The winter winds of Seven were harsh this year. The nights were merciless in the woods. It was quiet except for my feet marching softly in the crunching snow.
He ran up to me, keeping my pace. I marched past him. "There was nothing we could do." He told me quietly, frantically.
I stopped, the cold was biting, hot tears chilling against my skin. "Nothing?" I croaked, my angry growl lost in the darkness. I kept moving.
My father followed me, stopping me, "Johanna...I'm just as hurt by this turn..." He tried to explain. Fury shot through me as I lashed out against him. They forgot what I remembered. I remember how my sisters would worry after my mother as a second thought, or how my father grew frustrated when she relapsed.
My lips quivered, whether it was from the cold or just my heart breaking, I wasn't quiet sure. "No Dad. You've been counting down the days," I said quietly, my eyes staring coldly. "Who saw her last?" I asked, losing feeling in my body. My nose was numb, my chest aching from the chill, and my hands burning as the arctic hell winds blew over us.
"Jo," My father started, watching me with a hopeless detachment from his emotions.
New tears filled my eyes as I thought about my sick mother, wandering in the cold. "Who saw her last?" I asked him.
"I don't know." It was the first honest answer from my father in years.
I stared the old man in the eyes. He focused on the cold white layer of snow. "Pathetic," I growled. My eyes followed his, and then fell back to the darkness of the woods. I kept walking, looking for traces of my mother, where she last walked, where she rested for the night and then met death's cold kiss.
I pushed my father out of the way, "You weren't home," He yelled in the quiet of the night. "What did you want me to do? You were the one she needed! What could I have done?" My heart dropped and I raced back to him, shoving my father so hard, he toppled to the ground. All shame I had regarding my family left with my mother's remains.
"Stop her! You should have stopped her!" I shouted, tears streaming down my face. All of me hated him, but half of me knew he was right. I should have been home. She shouldn't have had to go out to see if I had gotten lost...I should never have been gone that long.
Guilt and sadness overpowered me as I ran through the woods, finding her makeshift grave, the last place anyone saw her. I pictured her bony frame, weak, lifeless as sleep overwhelmed her. The cold must have been brutal. The night must have been long. I placed the small pebble at the grave, a worthless token in place of my sorrow.
I took to running in the woods. I didn't know where I was going, I let my feet take control. I found myself at a familiar home, but it had been so long since I had been on that doorstep. I knocked on the door as if second nature. "H-Hey Jo." He said with a scared smile.
"Kalon..." I cried, wrapping my arms around him. He was a stranger that I had come to miss. It felt as if something pierced my heart when I saw his handsome face, his dark eyes watching me with worry. I sobbed in the arms of the last person I trusted.
He held me tighter, walking out into the cold with me. "Hey, I'm-I'm so sorry." He said, wrapping his coat around me and kissing my forehead.
"It's awful Kal. I...I can't do it." I slurred, drunk on sadness and some imported alcohol I drank from a small flask, given to me by my suitors and clients.
Guilt sank in deeper as I wailed. He ran his palm over my cheek, pushing my hair back and kissing me again. "What are you talking about Johanna?" He asked quietly.
I took another swig of drink, putting my face in my hands, "I'm still in the game," I murmured groggily. The alcohol haze was strong. I remembered my mother wishing I didn't leave. She would come into my room at night and ask me to stay. She would write me sweet ramblings and scribbles and leave them before I left the next morning. She cried everyday I left. I should have said no. "I killed her Kal. I killed my mom," I whispered quietly. I fell into Kalon's arms crying again.
He wrapped around me tighter, running his hands through my hair, "Hey, shh...no. You know she hasn't been well for a long time." He muttered sweetly. "She's been sick Jo." He said, sniveling himself. He kissed my forehead.
I curled into his chest, "I was never here. She just needed me home."
He kissed me again, "You can't blame yourself for that."He wrapped his hand around my face, kissing my cheek, forehead and lips.
I involuntarily pushed him away. "I should have told them no!" I shrieked, echoing the thoughts buzzing around my mind. "I should have said no," I cried again, crumbling in his arms. He held me, humming and stroking my hair.
He let me cry until I calmed down, waiting patiently, attentively. "It'll get better," He told me.
I shook my head, eyes red and swollen, "They all say that and it's gotten worse. I'm terrible Kal." I croaked.
"How?"
I shook my head with a harsh smile, "You don't see it?"
He looked into my eyes. His dark eyes searched mine, "I see you. I see you're wonderful." He told me, his hand holding my jaw. He kissed me slowly and then backed away. "I still love you Jo and I know you're scared, but I know you Jo. You're strong and you'll be ok," He told me, pushing my hair back and holding me still. He ushered me inside his home, we were both fighting off the cold. He pulled me to his room, and helped sneak me out in the morning. We continued that until they called me back to the Capitol. We still ran away to our secret world in the woods but my visits were cut shorter as the months went on. Every time I came home, he never asked where I had gone, somehow we both knew. One night, the bitter cold still haunted Seven, Kalon and I sat in front of a blazing fire he had built for me. He curled up against my chest.
"Where does my love go?" He asked me, playing with my gloved hands.
I pulled a blanket over the two of us. "I only go as far as my love lets me," I muttered his playful poem wearily. I let my hands trail though his hair, kissing his forehead.
His hands reached up, touching the tips of the long strands of hair I had braided. "She wanders." I stared down at him, sadness gleaming in both our eyes. He hated when I kept secrets from him, but I let him hate his lover.
I left for the Capitol shortly, seeing Finnick when I bounded from the train. He nodded, on the same journey as me. His worn smile and sad eyes gave him a ragged look, instead of the usual man I met in the Capitol's graces. He didn't say anything to me, but instead pushed past me, weary and looking frustrated.
"I'm still nothing like her Finnick," I shouted on the train dock.
He turned around to face me, pushing a strong hand through his wavy auburn hair. "Hmm?"
I gulped, pushing my long brown hair back behind my ear. I had never felt so vulnerable, but he knew what I was, just as I knew his secret. "Annie. She's stronger than me," I told him in a strained voice. And she was. She may have gone mad, but she figured out a way to escape the fate Finnick and I had fallen to.
He shook his head, watching me with a sorrowful smile, "You're more like her than you'll ever know."
I frowned, as he insisted comparing me to his crazy girlfriend. "I don't understand the appeal of you Odair," I spat.
Finnick laughed sardonically, "You're not the only one Mason."
I tried not to simmer in my disdain of his insistence, but my tongue lashed quicker than my thoughts of compassion. I didn't understand the tragedy of who was Annie Cresta, but her family dying a sudden death when she came home from her tour, I did understand her new sadness. "I'm sorry for what happened to her," I muttered almost apologetically. "Is she ok?" I asked in reverence.
It was clear, he didn't want to answer. He squirmed at the question. "She'll be better soon. We all will," He told me with a soft smile. "Take care of yourself Johanna." He told me, walking in the opposite direction.
I nodded with my own branded Victor smile. It was weaker than before. "You too Finnick," I whispered, walking down my own road of the used and wasted. We did indeed understand tragedy.