I breathe out the sweetest sigh of relief possible. He's alive. I did it. He's alive.
"Common'," I half laugh, half cry, "before you leave me again." I pull him up.
"Sorry about that..." we make our to the hovercraft that's still waiting there for me. "what happened?"
"...I don't really know... the cannon fired... but the system must have malfunctioned, because obviously, you're not dead." No, he wasn't dead, but if we didn't get him to the professional doctors of the Capitol within a matter a minutes, he might be again. I have no idea what will happen now. Surely the Capitol won't be pleased that Peeta is alive, that their system has failed, but what can the do, they've already announced the games over, with me as victor. The viewers have seen that Peeta is alive. Wow... this could be problematic.
I hoist Peeta up with my arm around his waist, we both step up onto the rung of the ladder and are frozen by an electric current. When we are inside the hovercraft and the current stops, he slumps over into my arms. Unfortunately, he's not the only one that's weak, and I nearly topple over myself. Doctors in sterile, white uniforms swarm around him and carry his body away as the life drains out of him. Judging by the lack of blood and surely infected wounds inflicted by the many pests in the arena, I'd guess he only has a few minutes left, a half an hour tops.
"Peeta..." his name hardly makes it out of my mouth. I don't particularly like the Capitol, but if it can save Peeta, it's my best friend. I'm towed away into a room right next to his operating room, nothing but a clear glass wall divides us. Just a flimsy glass wall. I have never wanted to be with Peeta more than right now. I sit criss-cross applesauce on the floor, facing the glass wall. My forehead is pressed against its cool glass surface, my eyes trained on Peeta, or more like approximately where Peeta is, seeing that he's completely swathed in Capitol surgeons. I can hear a group of Hunger Games officials chatting in the back corner of the room.
"What do you think they'll do?" one man says, "You think they'll kill them?" another says. "Not the girl... at least she won." "But the Prez won't be too pleased with two winners..." whispers a female voice. "And the whole world already knows he survived." I plug my ears because I do not want to listen to it. I miss my home and friends and family and Peeta and I just want things to go back to normal. No killing. No revenge. Just normal, sad, desperate district twelve.
A Capitol attendant brings me a glass of water and I sip it daintily as I watch Peeta as the doctors rush around him. The moisture on the crystal glass wipes the dirt from my hands and reveals the array of blisters and scraps covering my palms. I lean back and can see my face in the reflection of the wall. I look like an animal... filthy and wild with empty, unseeing eyes and a hopeless expression. My face reflects the past weeks as easily as the glass reflects my image, filthy, ravenous, hopeless, empty.
I am still sitting here, the same position, motionless, when the hovercraft lands in the Capitol. Only my eyes move as they carry Peeta away to some other place where I will probably never see him again. Where they'll kill him. This is my fault. I should have just killed myself. Why am I so weak? I shouldn't be the victor.
Someone puts there hand on my shoulder but I do not turn, although now the operating room is empty and dim. The person pulls at my arm and my hand comes to swat them away just as a needle is jabbed into my back.
I am awake but I do not open my eyes. I can tell from the faint glow of my eyelids that there is light, but I don't want to see where I am unless it's back home. I squint tentatively just to see nothing but a blank wall in front of me. I'm slightly propped up in a white hospital bed in a windowless, doorless, room with blank walls. Ugh I don't want to be here. I close my eyes and escape to unconsciousness.
When I resurface for the second time, my situation is unchanged. I'm about to sleep again but an invisible to door opens from somewhere along the wall. I was hoping it to be Peeta, but no, it's an Avox that walks in, carrying a small silver tray. She sets it on my lap and reveals its contents: a clear soup, some applesauce, and a glass of water. I'm not hungry, but I eat anyways, gently sipping broth and stirring the applesauce around with my spoon. When I've eaten all I can, I lay back and feel a cool liquid dripping through the tubes in my arm and I go under again. When I wake again, it's around the same ordeal. The only things that change are my wounds. Though I wasn't ever mortally injured in the arena, I did receive minor cuts and scars which disappear more and more each time I wake up. The time where it appears that all of my scars have disappeared is the only time I can move about. Finally I will be able to get out of here.
I swing my feet over the side of my bed, thankful to be free of the tubes connecting me to a cart of liquids, and stand quickly. I'm a little light headed but am glad to be upright. At the foot of my bed lies the outfit that we wore in the arena. I'd rather not wear it, seeing that I feel like I've just gotten a small taste of freedom again, but I'd rather not go outside stark naked as I am now.
My skin feels so fragile and perfect as I dress. My hair flows smoothly down my back in a silken waterfall of honey brown. I stand at the door where the Avoxes had come through to give me my meals and wait. When I run my fingers along the wall, it feels seamless and smooth, but I startle when it slides open without a sound. It reveals nothing but a long, doorless, windowless hallway with a large waiting area at the end. A waiting room! I dash down the hall and am greeted by Effie, Cinna, and Haymitch, who are all giving me congratulations and praise. I don't deserve it.
"Is Peeta alright?" I expect my voice to be hoarse from not speaking for so long, but it's clear as day.
"Yes, he's fine. They got his heart moving again." Haymitch replies.
"...what happened? I thought he'd died out there!" I play dumb a little. I don't know what speculations they're having about me at this very moment in President Snow's office.
"There must have been a mistake. Whatever it was, it doesn't matter, because they're letting you both be victors." Both victors? This is amazing! This is incredible! Two victors! I'm dumbfounded. Two victors. How can this be? Surely the Capitol doesn't want it this way, but they also don't want a bunch of horrified residents on there hands.
"Well everyone saw that Peeta's alive so there aren't too many other options. The Games are over." Cinna attempts to console my flabbergasted expression. Two victors. Wow. Everything might just turn out ok.
"What are you all chatting about? Come on, come on Maina, you must go with Cinna and get ready." Effie blabs. I follow my posse down a series of hallways to the elevators and wait as we surface. It's unsettling to think of how far down underground we are while we pass floor after floor. After what seems like an eternity, we arrive at the main lobby of the Training Center. The windows are darkened and guards mill around so surely outside, there are many Hunger Games addicts that want nothing more than to give me a hug or get a picture taken. When we get to the tribute elevator, I can't help but think of all the tributes before me that have used it. All the tributes that are no longer alive. How can victors take this?
The weight of my world is crashing down on me as my prep team works. I'm not really there, not mentally at least. My head is still in the arena. And it will never come out. I can never escape now. I will always be haunted by memories and nightmares. Horrific delusions of trackerjacker stings. The menacing eyes of Cato in a monstrous wolf's head. I feel like I'm going to faint but Cinna's finally there.
"Whoa there Miss Maina." Cinna says as I almost teeter over into his arms. I'm standing naked in front of a mirror, about to pass out. I'd hardly noticed until now. "Don't want you having a black eye for your big day." I laugh sheepishly. Cinna has always been a friend to me. He's always routed me on. "This is your final debut as a tribute. It's your grand finale. When you return, you will be a mentor. We want you to be remembered." He says quietly.
"Are we still going with the fire theme?" I ask. I never felt like I should be the one to be the girl on fire. Katniss is better suited for that role. She has more soul and heart, she knows more pain and would want this more. She's more fiery, she's a survivor. She's more of a winner.
"Of course. And what's a finale without..." he pauses and I raise my arms up so he can slip the garment over my head. "...fireworks." he finishes. I open my eyes and stare in awe. The floor-length dress is completely covered in gems of all different colors. It glitters this way and that whenever I move. It really looks like a fireworks display. I really look like the grand finale.
"Cinna..." I'm nearly whispering. "It's spectacular." I'm not really one for glitz and glitter, but this is something else.
"I thought you might like it."
"Peeta." I say to myself. "He's coming too, isn't he?" I don't want to go into this final wrap-up of the games by myself, especially not in my current state of mind.
"Of course. You are both victors, right?"
"Right." my voice is timid. How much does the Capitol know? Do they know it was me who outsmarted their games, who saved Peeta from his impending demise? No, how could they? I suppose they did fix me up after the games, right? Who knows what blood-work reveals about my extra traits? Or maybe... they took them away. Maybe I'm just normal now. I can't decide whether this is good or bad. I guess it means that I'm no longer at risk of putting my family in danger. It also means that I have no way to defend myself if necessary. I've learned a little in the means of self defense in the last couple weeks, but I'm nothing without my sixth sense. I'm suddenly anxious as we're making our way down the hall and into the elevator. I want to shoot my hands out just to make sure I can still manipulate energy, but that would not be a good plan, especially with the Capitol probably suspicious of me. I decide my best bet is to look to the future.
My brain hasn't been tampered with, because I can see in a short while, snippets of huge crowds and Caesar Flickerman, loud cheering and chanting and... Peeta. He's not dead, like they all have been saying. I'm angry at those Games officials who said they'd kill him. I'll see him, as long as no one makes a snap decision to do something rash.
We take the elevator down to the floor where we had trained those few days before the games began. It's customary for the victor, or in this case, victors and their posse to rise from the floor below the stage during the ceremony. I just hope I'll have Peeta's hand to hold. I wonder how things will be between us when we return home. Probably the same. Maybe a little more distant.
I'm stationed on a newly installed circular plate much like the one I used when I was launched into the arena. In the room, it's dark and unsettling and smells like paint and sawdust . There's a makeshift wall to my right and I can only assume that Peeta is behind it. It takes all of my willpower not to call out his name while we wait in the gloom. Suddenly, I can see a silhouette strolling towards me through the darkness. I almost don't recognize Haymitch in his black suit and red bow-tie.
"Good luck Sweetheart." he attempts to make his voice as soothing as he can. I must look as nervous as I feel because his face looks sympathetic. "It's ok. You'll do fine." He opens his arms for a hug. I'm surprised that he even knows what a hug is. It's not that Haymitch is mean, but he doesn't seem too sensitive. I move towards him and wrap my arms around his neck.
"Are they angry?" I whisper in his ear. I don't need to explain. He knows what I mean.
"What do you think? But it's not your fault. You didn't make them mess up." This doesn't console me whatsoever. If they knew it was me, I would be obliterated in moments.
"What if I did?" I whimper.
"Well then don't say anything stupid." Good advice, Haymitch. Thank you. I think. We let go and he gives me a real smile. "It'll be fine. You know what you're doing." And with that, he walks off to his place on the stage. I can hear the crowds outside roaring. I know that our prep teams, Effie and Cinna have gone up, because now Haymitch disappears into the ceiling. This is it.
The metal disk gives a hiss and begins to raise me up slowly. This is it.