Home
The train ride home was daunting. While it sped soundlessly through the trees towards District Two, Darian sat, head down, thinking about what was to come. Time was lost on him. He had no idea how long he had been gone, and he was truly too scared to ask. How would he face his mother? Iraria's father?
Everything he had planned to do when he was first whisked off to the Capitol had failed. He played right into the hands of President Cross.
Now, it was time to own up to the atrocities.
Part of him rebelled against the idea. He was a victim in all of this. Darian had only been doing his best to survive. He couldn't have known it would all turn out the way it had. He truly had no idea he would have been alive to see this day unfold.
The other part of him was purely ashamed. In times of conflict, Darian had chosen the path of violence. That was unexpected. That was what Cross wanted from them all. The twenty-four of them who were chosen didn't have to fall into chaos like they did.
Bristol sat across from him. Her fear of him had subsided some over the recent time spent, and Darian didn't know whether or not that was a good thing. She still kept her distance, but the superior look she gave him every time he lifted his head was more than he could handle.
He kept his head down until the train finally came to a stop. Once it did, his body felt like lead. How could be possibly do this? How was it even possible to recover from such an event?
Somehow, he got his legs to move and slogged off the train.
He should have been expecting it. He should have been thinking over every additional way the Capitol would punch him in the gut, but he didn't. On the screen outside the town hall, renamed Justice Building, was the recap of Darian in the Games. Just like in the final victory parade, the screen flashed through all his worst, arguably best to the Capitol, moments from the Games.
Could his heart sink any lower?
The whole district (or his section of it), seemed to be in attendance for his homecoming. Their expressions told him more than he could have ever guessed. Each and every one of them was completely horrified. Darian hands began to shake violently.
Bristol put a hand on his forearm and gave it a little squeeze. "Breathe. I can't have you passing out." Her smiled was plastered on her face as she guided Darian up the steps of the Justice Building. As he walked behind Bristol, Darian scanned the crowd for his mother. Upon his initial look, he couldn't see her anywhere. His mind whirled with all the terrible possibilities of her whereabouts.
"Ladies and Gentlemen. It has been a short while coming, but your champion of the Games has finally returned. Darian Hale!" Bristol stepped aside, clapping loudly, obnoxiously almost.
No one clapped in return. The shock was too much.
"Now where is Mrs. Hale?" Bristol's voice in the microphone was shrill.
The crowds parted and somewhere in the middle stood Darian's mother. Her hair wisped around her face in the soft breeze, and she kept her head down much like Darian had on the train. Darian was nearly numb as he laid eyes on her.
"Come on down, Mrs. Hale. Let us all witness this happy family reunion." Bristol motioned to the peacekeepers, and a group of them surrounded his mother and ushered her forward to the stage. She walked slowly, creeping along the path to the front; her reluctance was obvious.
Their gazes met when she stopped next to him, and he could see they were riddled with pain… or was it disappointment? Still, she wrapped her arms around him tightly. The crowd clapped, or some people clapped, Darian was more distracted by his mother. She was thin when he held her. Was she always that way? Or had things changed for him so much that he couldn't remember?
"It's nice… the reunion of mother and son." Bristol's voice pulled him from his thoughts and he stepped away from her, but only a step. Part of him wanted to run from her. He was so ashamed of the things that flickered on the screen behind him. The other stayed close by her. She was his mother, his family…
He was finally home.
And his life, Darian was sure, would be filled with constant internal conflict.
Dinner that night was a silent one, which didn't make much sense considering it included Mr. Rosewood and Iraria's two younger sisters. Darian couldn't look at a single one of them. Each reminded him more and more of Iraria, and her dead figure flashed in his mind every time he closed his eyes. One of the girls, Alya, even sounded like her. His appetite diminished, but he forced the food down.
He was a stranger in his own house. Mr. Rosewood sat where his father used to, the Rosewood girls surrounded his mother. Darian had been replaced. He couldn't blame his mother. She had explained only briefly that she and Steven had "grown closer throughout their trials" and that was all.
He could only assume the worst, or best. Darian had no right to assume anything. He had no right to care.
Chairs scraped as the two girls finished up their meals. Alya dutifully helped her sister down from the chair and cleaned up their plates before getting so close to him, he got lightheaded. "May we watch your television, Mrs. Hale?"
It was as if Iraria was there with him. Darian clenched a fist under the table.
"Of course, you may," his mother chimed, her fondness for the girls apparent. "And call me Jane."
As the eldest Rosewood daughter walked away from the table, Darian stood. "Thank you for the meal. I need a walk."
Jane made to reach out for him, but Steven's hand rested elegantly against hers. "How about I walk you out? I could use a quick breath of fresh air." Steven put his napkin down on the table and stood as well.
Darian wanted to object, but the guilt wouldn't let him. Iraria was gone despite Darian's efforts to save her. Steven Rosewood lost his eldest child, Darian felt completely responsible. He nodded to the man and they headed out into the crisp night air.
"I wanted to thank you," he started. "You did all you could to save my baby—" he choked up, hardly able to continue. "Thank you… I—" Unable to finish, he nodded once more and stepped back towards the door.
Darian nodded back, looking to the ground. "I'm sorry." His spirit was crushed, and Steven was thanking him.
The man patted him on the back and went back inside. It was all that needed to be said.
Darian walked until he was numb from the cold.
The trains pulled into the station the next morning as such speeds, Darian was almost positive they would derail as they came to an almost screeching halt. From his bedroom window, he could see the tracks. By the sheer number of peacekeepers that exited the train, Darian wasn't at all surprised when he heard the president's voice play out over the radio and T.V. screen.
"Citizens of Panem." Darian's memory surged to the room in the hospital. Cross sounded so different in person. "I, President Cross, request all citizens to gather in the town square for a special announcement."
The message was short and simple. Darian knew whatever was happening, he wouldn't have a say in it. He did briefly debate taking off into the trees. His body reacted in spite of his mind and started shaking—a more frequent occurrence since he had been home.
His mother took a few deep breaths and grabbed her jacket. "Come on, Darian…" There was something left unsaid, but he couldn't ask what. Talking to his mother had become the hardest thing to do. Darian was lucky in that she spent the majority of her time with Steven.
The temperatures had dropped to freezing levels. They lived close to the Justice building, so they had to wait a good hour in the bitter cold while those who had been moved to different areas of the district could be transported to the town square. By the time most everyone was accounted for, the people were packed in like sardines.
Except for Darian.
The people of Distract Two gave him a wide berth—rejected by some but avoided by most. He had become quickly adjusted to the life of solitude.
"I welcome you all, Citizens of Panem, to finale of the Rebellion. For years, the Rebellion plagued our great nation, and I, your President, have taken care in collecting the leaders who attempted to fracture us..."
Darian's heart pounded in his chest. President Cross continued talking, but Darian couldn't hear his voice—he couldn't hear anything. The peacekeepers parted on the steps of the Justice Building, and there, looking ragged, beaten, and run down, was his father.
Flashbacks of everything sprang to his mind: his father taking over the train lines, his father first calling all the district leaders to Two for a meeting, his father stepping onto the train for the last time. He stomach clenched in a way that was becoming all too familiar now.
His father was going to die. Darian knew it before the head peacekeeper pulled out his gun and casually stepped into the spotlight.
"...may this be a reminder…"
Darian couldn't quite make out what Cross was saying; the blood pumping through his body was distorting all sounds around him.
The peacekeepers holding his father kicked in his knees, and the once invulnerable hero of the Rebellion collapsed to the concrete below him.
"...may we move on from here a stronger, better nation…"
His feet moved without thought, and Darian ran through the crowd, aided by the breaks in the crowd to avoid him. He hardly registered his mother next him until she knocked into his shoulder, sprinting past him. Her cheeks were wet from tears, her mouth open from shouting something.
"...may the odds be ever in our favor."
The resounding shot yanked Darian from his state, bringing him to a halt. His father's body slumped to the side and slid down the steps. The sight of it caused him to double over and purge his breakfast. The screams that followed were nothing short of comforting; it wasn't just horrific for him.
His mother didn't stop. She continued on until she was paces from the peacekeeper. He turned on her ruthlessly, aimed the gun and pulled the trigger without hesitation. Her frail body fell an arm's length away from her late husband as if she had tripped.
Darian's scream was louder than the rest, and the crowd quieted down because of it. His stomach flipped, his rage subsided, and the only feeling left was emptiness. In an instant, she was gone. They both were.
He had nothing left.
The Capitol had taken everything from him.
Darian inched towards his slain parents, unaware of the tears that fell freely down his cheeks. If he could just touch them, shake them… be with them.
"Kill me…" he mumbled. "Kill me."
Perhaps they would take him away as well. He made it to his parents and dropped to his knees. Oddly enough, they looked peaceful. And that was all he ever wanted—peace. That was all anyone ever wanted. It was why there was a rebellion in the first place.
He struck out and grabbed the gun of the head peacekeeper and held it to his forehead.
Maybe he could have peace.
"KILL ME! KILL ME! KILLMEKILLMEKILLME…"
