All these half destroyed lives
Aren't as bad as the seem
And then I see blood and I hear people scream
Then I wake up and it's just another bad dream
It was growing quiet in the cellblock. The lights were still on, but people were starting to drift off regardless. Or, trying to. The big group by the washrooms was still being loud, just enough to keep the baby up, who was crying in her sister's arms in the furthest cell from the clamour.
Felix Twisp groaned and rolled over on his cot, trying to block out the noise. It only increased. From the sound of it, the six-year-old was in tears now too.
Great.
He stood up, half-dazed from nearly falling asleep, and stumbled into the empty cot across from him. Cursing, he found his way to the door and made no effort to be subtle as he slammed it once, twice, three times, letting each metal clang! reverberate through the cellblock. The baby didn't stop, but the young boy did, and all the other prisoners followed his lead as they stuck their heads up to stare at Felix.
"I have no idea what time it is," he started to his waiting audience. "But I'm pretty sure it's an ungodly fucking hour. Sleep or shut up, just have some damn courtesy."
All was silent as he slammed the door one more time and went back to his cot. The springs creaked as he collapsed onto the old mattress, but over their sound, he could hear the chatter pick up once more. Quieter, but still there.
Teenagers.
He'd hoped that would work. Hadn't they listened to him earlier? Or were they ignoring him because they had leaders now, idiot boys and girls pretending they were old and wise while they threw their weight around. Felix could hear Saiph Sarabande's obnoxious voice from here, and it made him want to punch something.
Maybe he should. Could it be he'd lost some respect by comforting Calla earlier—appearing soft? Damn it, he knew he shouldn't have gotten involved. Loyalty to his districtmen was all well and good, but it wasn't going to help him much in here, especially if he started revealing weakness left, right, and centre. Her mention of family had made a crack in the wall he'd worked so hard to build, and he had a feeling he was going to be regretting that for a while.
Still, Calla's smile afterward had made everything . . . sort of worth it. He as glad at least that she'd found the courage to return to her friends, annoying though they may be. His head rose, and his lip quirked slightly at the sight of her bright copper hair, bobbing up and down as she nodded from her spot between the 9 girl and—
Felix froze as a cold glare hit him like a spear of ice to the heart. Two amber eyes were focused on him with all the ferocity of a leopard stalking its prey, though they moved as soon as his gaze locked on them. The hate lingered, though—the hate, and the fear.
He watched Thalia Silverlake attempt to return to her new friends' conversation; from the short, one-word responses she looked to be mouthing, it was clear the tension was still there. As it had been every time Felix had caught her watching him, which had been at least once a day since the train had been ambushed.
He knew the exact reason, too. Still, he could have left it alone. Should have left it alone.
But some stupid, nagging sensation in his head kept him awake. Even as the talkative ones finally started to fall asleep, he remained alert, keeping a subtle eye on the group by the washrooms. All were lying on their mattresses, motionless, but he was willing to bet not all were out cold. Especially with Saiph Sarabande snoring like a monster truck with engine problems. That had to be irritating for anyone still up; surely soon she would . . .
Yes, there was movement. Thalia was stirring, sitting up as blearily as Felix had earlier on. With a sleepy glare at the boy, she rose to her feet and made her way towards the washroom, easing the door shut behind her.
She hadn't even glanced Felix's way. Perhaps, in her befuddled state, she'd forgotten about him.
Time to make his move.
He clambered off the cot, reached for his cell door and, much quieter than before, slid it open. No one moved that he could see, though not all asleep; Thisbe Von Patten and her new friend from 1 were talking quietly in the opposite corner. Felix kept an eye on them as he moved for the washrooms, anticipating an interruption at any moment. Ardelia Reid was still awake as well, and the two had lived up to their professions as guards when it had come to Thalia on the train. Reid in particular had seen every move as a threat, but now neither she nor Von Patten were keeping tabs on the other Three. Good.
Silent as a shadow, Felix made his way over to the washrooms, taking care to not disturb any of the kids sleeping nearby. Sarabande's snores covered his footsteps as he went; Jabez Smithfield did stir as Felix stepped over him, but he shrugged off the other boy's actions immediately and rolled around to return to sleep. After all, there was nothing suspicious about a guy heading for the washroom.
Nevertheless, Felix paused before the door to check for the eyes of others. The four girls in the corner still weren't looking his way, and they were the only ones awake besides the group of five up on the second level. Beyond the railing, Felix could just barely see movement in one cell, but it didn't concern him. Up until now, the beautiful girls had kept to their own business, as he did to his.
And this, this was his business. Unfinished since the train, and now something he needed to take care of.
He opened the washroom door and slipped through the crack, closing it softly behind him. With the snoring gone, all was quiet save the sound of running water as a girl splashed her face at the other end of the room.
Felix stepped forward just as Thalia looked up. He saw her face in the mirror, blonde hair stringy and wet, plastered across her eyes, but not quite enough to block her peripheral vision. In an instant, her gaze was on his reflection.
A gasp. Scrambling footsteps as she whirled around. Hands raised in an instant, fists clenched in a way that would make even an amateur fighter cry.
"Get out," she spat, voice a good deal more menacing then her wide eyes. "Or I'll kill you."
He couldn't help it. "Not with that technique. You're liable to break your thumbs more than anything else."
Her fingers, curled around her thumbs, relaxed to instead grip the sink behind her as she stepped back, eyes darting to the walls. "I'll tell your secret, then."
"My what?"
"Six doesn't hire mechanics under twenty," she said, glare snapping back to him. "Not for passenger trains. And you don't look eighteen. I can get you kicked right out of here to the adult holdings."
Once, the threat might have worried him. Now, his lips curved in a humourless smile. "Fine. Got no reason to be here."
She took a deep breath. "I'll scream. If you don't leave right now, I'll—"
"There's no need for this." He raised his hands, an intended gesture of peace, but when she flinched, he let them drop. "Look, I'm not here to . . . do anything. I just wanted to apologise."
She snorted; her deadly expression never changed. "What is that, a distraction technique they teach you in murder school? I wasn't born yesterday."
"Look, this was all just a big misunderstanding."
"Really? Really?" She was growing hysterical now, hands shaking as she formed fists once more. "Holding a gun to a stranger's head and preparing to pull the trigger, that's what you call a misunderstanding?"
Well, when she said it like that, it sounded . . . a lot worse than Felix had been trying to convince himself it was.
He winced as the memories came back. The dark engine room. A gun, heavy in his hand. Chest aching as his heart pounded against his ribs. Palms wet, throat choked, stomach heaving, all while the girl before him stared with wide, terrified eyes . . .
He grabbed his right arm, gritting his teeth as pain flared up once more along his skin. The burns had mostly healed since that night, but every so often, he felt the presence of the hot coals once more as the train flew off its rails.
Worse than the physical pain was the mental. Knowing those coals, that ambush, had been the only thing stopping him from becoming a murderer, it made him want to crumble. How close he had come . . .
He breathed deeply and faced Thalia once more, focusing on the anger in her face and trying to forget the fear he'd once seen there. "It was a really horrible mistake. Believe me, I know."
"A mistake—"
"I'm not asking for your forgiveness," he continued, suddenly finding himself unable to look at her. "Please, hate me. Just don't . . . fear me."
"I'm not afraid of you," she snapped, a bit too quickly to be entirely believable.
"I know what it's like spending your life looking over your shoulder. Hell, all of Panem probably knows it. It's exhausting." His voice was quiet now, heavy with the memories of a past best left unshared. "And I don't want to be the cause of that for you. So if you think I'm going to finish the job or whatever, know that I won't. I won't come near you ever again."
Her eyes narrowed, but at least now there was some milder suspicion mixed in with the repulsion. "And why should I trust you?"
"You don't have to. At all. I just wanted to let you know. So . . ." He slapped his hands against his legs. "I'll be going now."
He had his back turned and his hand resting on the doorknob when she called after him, "What was the misunderstanding?"
"Huh?"
"Nearly killing someone—on purpose—is a hell of a misunderstanding," she said, crossing her arms and leaning back against the sink. "If I'm going to believe you for even a second, I want to hear the story."
"It's long and complicated—"
"And made up?"
He sighed. "No."
She waited, fingers tapping against her arm, while he rocked back and forth on his feet. The details weren't something he wanted to bring up, not to a girl he knew, and definitely not after he'd already cracked once with Calla. Prison wasn't a place to make yourself look vulnerable.
But then, he had seen Thalia at her lowest point, right before she thought she was about to die. Every detail of her expression in that moment was etched into his brain, and he'd likely never forget it until the day he died.
He owed her—at least, something in return.
"Just after I made Junior Mechanic on the train," he said, turning back around, "I was . . . approached by one of Six's rebel leaders." She didn't need to know the violent details of their encounter. "They found out I'd be on the train and 'volunteered' me for some stupid revenge mission on a scientist from Three. Some traitor to the districts."
"What?" Thalia blanched. "Me?"
"I don't know. Maybe? You looked kind of like the picture, but it was old, and I didn't pay much attention to it. There was supposed to only be one person getting on in Three anyways, I thought it'd be easy, but then there were three of you and things got . . . complicated."
"You thought I was working for the Capitol?" Thalia continued as though she hadn't heard him. "I'm not working for the Capitol."
"I know. I don't think any of you are. The woman who approached me was crazy, there was this bombing, and she was out of her mind, and—"
"And you listened to her?"
"She threatened me. She threatened my . . ." No, he wouldn't think of them. Nor of the fact that he'd been willing to omit murder for their sake, and they'd still wound up dead. "Look, you have to understand, I didn't have a choice."
"No, you have to understand," Thalia hissed, fear and anger back in her eyes. "I'm not with the Capitol."
"I know—"
She stopped him by striding forward, taking him forcefully by the arm. "You don't. Do you know how dangerous it would be for me if that rumour got our in here? With Captain Anarchist and all his followers out there?" She jerked her head towards the washroom door, shaking him for extra effect—or was her hand trembling of its own accord? "Those people can't live without a scapegoat. If they can't take their anger out on the Capitol, they'll find someone else, and I'm sure as hell not letting it be me."
"I told you the rebels were wrong—"
"And you're going to tell the kids out there even less. I don't need them even thinking the word 'traitor' in the same sentence as my name, and you are not going to give them the idea." Her grip tightened. "Understand? Or I really will—"
"Is there a problem in here?"
Thalia stopped short, staring at someone over Felix's shoulder. In the mirror, Felix could see the dark-skinned leader of the girls from 9 staring daggers at them from the washroom doorway.
He turned back to her, mouth opening to reassure her that Thalia's hold on him meant nothing and he was fine, when he stopped short. The girl was glaring at him, not Thalia, as though he was the one cutting off the circulation in her arm.
"No," he said slowly. "We're fine."
The girl kept watching him, expression so accusatory Felix felt like he'd been caught with his hand in the cookie jar. "What are you doing in here, then?"
"Isn't this a communal washroom?"
"You don't look to be using it."
"And she does?" Felix said, nodding to Thalia, who quickly let go of his arm.
The girl's gaze never wavered, nor did she respond. Instead, she stepped aside, letting the door swing open to admit more newcomers to the washroom: the other 9 girls—her 'sisters'—as well as Von Patten and Reid, the 1 girls just behind them.
Caught in the crosshairs of now nine stares, Felix felt his jaw clench. What was this?
"Tsk, tsk, tsk." The flirty one, Ryla, sashayed forward, giving him a smile that was somehow colder than any of the other girl's impassive expressions. "Following girls into the washroom, are we? I know this is a prison, dear, but please, have some class."
Felix tensed. "That's not what this is."
"You'll forgive me if we don't believe you," she said, turning to Thalia expectantly.
"Thalia," Ardelia called from the doorway. "Are you all right?"
All eyes turned on her, Felix's included. He didn't realise it at first, but he was holding his breath.
This looked bad. Every girl looked set for a fight, some even eager for it, and he had no illusions about his abilities against ten opponents. Youth, height, it didn't matter if you had numbers. He'd been jumped enough times by street kids in his neighbourhood to know that.
His fists clenched at his sides. Ryla laughed when she noticed, but he ignored her, mind whirring. Why wouldn't Thalia frame him for something? He'd nearly killed her—it was pay back, and well-deserved. He couldn't fault her for it, but he also couldn't afford to be injured when their prison situation was so precarious.
Injured, or worse.
Ryla was in front of him, her leader striding to her side, and both were also forming fists much better than Thalia's had been. Reid and Von Patten were moving forward too; from the looks of Von Patten's face, this wasn't her first fight of the night. That would be where he had to strike first: her nose. It looked broken, he could possibly take her out of the fight with one hit, and then—
"No," Thalia said, walking past the group and towards the door. "I'm fine."
Everyone paused, surprised, but she didn't wait around for questions. The door was swinging closed behind her before Felix could so much as open his mouth.
His hands relaxed, and his heart sunk. Great, she'd done something worse than get him in trouble—she'd been the bigger person. He wholeheartedly deserved a beating, yet he'd still thought to hurt the girls who would deliver it; he wasn't entitled to a pass from that, but Thalia had given him one anyway.
Her face flashed before his mind, terrified once more as he held a gun to her head. Fuck, he was a terrible person.
"You heard her," he said gruffly, hoping to hide his feelings with a dark scowl. "She's fine. I'm fine. We're all fucking fine."
He made for the door, storming after Thalia. Once again, his hand was on the knob when he was stopped.
This time, not by words. The remaining 3 girls, on either side of him, had each grabbed one of his arms in grips tighter than stone. His burns stung beneath Von Patten's crushing hold.
"Stalk any girl again," the 9 leader said, coming up behind him to hiss in his ear, "And it won't be a warning we give you next time."
He slowed his breathing, fighting to stay calm. "I said that's not what this was."
"I don't care. Do it again, and we'll castrate you."
That specific threat came out of nowhere, and it took Felix a moment to process it. By the time he had, the Threes had let go, shoving him towards the door.
For a moment, he turned back, a sarcastic reply on the tip of his tongue. This girl was just as bad as Sarabande, playing leader just so she could get her hands on some power. She was worse, even; at least Sarabande hadn't been aggressive so far.
But Felix wasn't just facing her when he looked over his shoulder—he was staring down nine girls, and all were shuffling forward, as though itching for a reason to start something. He couldn't afford to get hurt. Nor would he give them the satisfaction.
So he turned back and marched through the door, uncomfortably aware of their eyes still on him. His cell called to him, ironically promising safety, and he hurried towards it, forgetting to watch out for the kids on the ground and stepping on one as he went. Half-awake cursing followed him back to his cell, but no one actually made a move. Even so, he closed his door with enough force to slam it as soon as he reached his cot.
The lights were still on in the cellblock, and he could clearly see the girls exiting the washroom, each one keeping their eyes on him as they moved over to Thalia. The leader was impassive, but Ryla winked at him, and the young one from 1 was smirking like they'd just won some big victory over him.
Fucking teenagers.
He gritted his teeth and collapsed on his cot, face-first into the thin pillow they were each provided. That lasted for all two seconds before he rose once more and peeked over his shoulder to see if the girls were still watching him.
They were.
He cursed as he dove back onto the mattress, trying in vain to ignore the urge to look back through the bars of his door. Damn it, hadn't he been through enough already? He didn't need to deal with an army of psychotic girls after him.
But then, he should have known something like this would go down. As soon as the voice over the intercom had made its announcement, he knew he was screwed. Hell, he was screwed the moment he set foot on a train for the first time as a Junior Mechanic. That had been the end of it all.
Or rather, the beginning. The beginning of the end.
And I can't help myself by feeling sorry
Because I gave up every chance I had
It's not a movement, it's just another fad
Like a cry for help in a world gone mad!
Note: Thank you for reading, and for all your feedback. Apologies for the late update; I made a change to my plan and decided to add this chapter in. With this, we've reached the end of the "introduction" stage of the story - a bit like the reapings in a normal SYOT. To formally end this part, the next chapter will be an interlude, taking us back to the train ride that started all this. Then, we'll move into the next section of this story.
