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When I wake I find myself transported to a world of white. My surroundings glow pristine and dazzling. The smell of antiseptic offends my nostrils and I can hear the hum of machines somewhere close at hand. I am lying in a narrow bed which appears to float from the ground. A thin sheet covers me and I wear only a white paper hospital gown. Three tubes stick out of my left arm just above my wrist. I am alive.
"Oh no, aren't we in trouble?" I whisper in amusement as I push out of the bed.
My aching feet touchdown on a cold, smooth floor and I begin to pace around, looking for some exit to this room. I wonder vaguely what will become of me now that the Capitol has their white gloved hands on me, their own little rebel. Really all I can bring my mind to focus on is Kesella. If I survived then surely he did too. If they were only going to keep one of us alive as their victor, wouldn't they have used him, the less troublesome of the two?
Eventually I except that I am not getting out of here alone and I begin to yell for help. At first I scream for Kesella, then Alix, Dolor, Auris, Testa and even my mother. No one comes, though I am sure I am being watched around the clock. Privacy is a rare commodity in the Capitol, especially among their prisoners. I slump to the floor and allow despair to overwhelm me. Though I feel rather guilty about it, I can't help but wish I had just died in the arena.
After some time the tiny Avox girl who brought me the drugged milk so long ago appears at a sliding door in the wall parallel to the one I am sitting against. She gives me a tiny wave and helps me to my feet, leading me from the room and down a series of equally white corridors. Finally she comes to a stop outside an apparently plain stretch of wall. She raises a tiny hand and knocks three times. A second hidden door slides open and she steps aside, giving my arm a little squeeze before disappearing up the corridor again.
Inside is a small, square room. My eyes fall upon my prep team and Dolor who sit stiffly in low (White) armchairs. Without a seconds hesitation I run to Dolor and throw my arms around him, settling myself on his knee and digging my head into the crook of his warm neck.
"You came back." he says gently.
"I told you I would didn't I?" I reply, my voice muffled by his midnight blue hair.
He chuckles and holds me by the shoulders, holding me at arm's length so that he can look in to my eyes. His face displays so much care that I almost tear up. He has been my father figure since my arrival in the Capitol and I can't express my relief at seeing him again. However, I get the feeling that he too might be in trouble.
After a moments silence I bring myself to ask the question that has been weighing on my mind. Surely someone like Dolor will know the answer one way or another. I am almost afraid to ask but I do anyway.
"Kesella?"
Dolor just shakes his head with a sad smile. I bury myself in amongst the folds of his blue cloak and he holds my small body as I whimper pathetically for the end of innocence, for the loss of my ally and friend. So Kesella is gone and now I have to get up in front of the nation and act grateful for the experience. As much as I know I should behave, something inside me has died and I no longer care what happens to me or how I come across to the silly citizens of the Capitol. I know what I must do.
I spend a few hours in hair and makeup with my prep team before Dolor returns with my outfit for the Victory Interviews. He unzips the black bag as usual and brandishes another unexpected choice. I feel rather grateful as I survey the clothing he has picked out for me. My old Reaping dress, slightly cleaner than before but as plain and innocent as ever. I slip into it and don my worn sandals before Dolor allows me to pull my own hair in to a high ponytail and fix around it my tattered old ribbon that I wore in the arena. I won't play any longer. I am Kaylar Abyss from District 4 and I am taking charge of my own life. For Kesella, for Alix, for myself.
"Thank you." I whisper to Dolor.
He nods and pulls me in to an embrace. I think it is just an arbitrary hug of farewell until I feel his warm breath in my ear and he begins to speak in quick, short sentences. Clearly he does not want to be overheard.
"Go out there and show them. Don't you answer a single question. Sometimes silence is the greatest form of rebellion. Remember Kesella, remember Alix. Don't let their deaths be in vain."
Then he pulls back and gives a large, fake smile, squeezing my shoulders gently.
"Got that beautiful? Oh, I'm just so proud." he says slyly, pretending to well up at my impending departure.
At the last minute he offers me a final piece of jewellery. It is a fine silver cuff with a sea foam green wave pattern cut in to it, gleaming and freshly cleaned. It is obviously meant to be worn by a man. Dolor doesn't have to tell me whose it was but I do feel curious as to how he got it. I shoot him a look.
"Canto, his stylist, she took it from him after she…you know…dressed his body. She thought you might like it."
I certainly would like it. I feel compelled to return it to his father as a small thank you for all he did. I am left thinking that I seem to attract a lot of dead people's jewellery these days.
After many condolences and congratulations from my very giddy prep team, I am lead by a pair of Peacekeepers to the familiar elevators of the Training Centre. Testa and Auris are waiting for me, neither of them offers me any congratulations, they just give solemn nods. We don't stay long. I am grateful; these halls are full of too many ghosts.
From the bottom floor of the Training Centre I am marched underground and into a labyrinth of identical corridors until finally we reach what I judge to be the underside of the stage I mounted for my initial interview before the games began. I am directed to stand on a metal plate, much like the one that carried me into the arena and I am left alone in the dark.
After a few minutes of uneventful silence I feel the plate below me begin to slowly rise. I stand straight and tall as I reach the level of the stage and the familiar lights burn my skin once more.
"Ladies and Gentlemen, the victor of the 63rd annual Hunger Games, Kaylar Abyss of District 4!" cries a terribly enthusiastic Ceaser Flickerman.
I cross the stage to tumultuous applause and take the seat across from Ceaser, my legs shaking. Ceaser begins to chat aimlessly to the crowd about how we all knew I would win from the start and so on. I just sit there, emotionless and unreachable. I catch sight myself on a huge screen as I scan the crowd. I'm glad Dolor left all of my scars and bruises as they were. I appear strong, defiant even as I look down on the whole situation. Good, just as I wanted. Look at me now Winda, I want to whisper.
Soon Ceaser's pointless titter begins to wear on the crowd so he switches to the topic on everyone's mind and begins asking me questions about the games.
"So Kaylar, congratulations on making it back!" he says happily.
I ignore him. I don't even twitch. I stare into the audience internally blaming every one of them for the horrors I have faced and allowing it to show in my expression. Ceased gives a few awkward coughs in an attempt to clear the silence and turns to his first question.
"We know you're a little shaken up still Kaylar, it's alright." he covers. "Tell me, what ran through your head as you watched your friend Alix perish in that poisonous water?"
I say nothing, do nothing but even my frosty facade can't stop the singular tear from running down my face. I wear it with pride, unlike in the arena. These people will see what they have done to me, and they will accept full responsibility. I'm more than just a pawn.
And so the time passes. Ceaser lays on question after question in an effort to make me speak. I feel a little guilty. I know he is genuinely trying to help me as he always does with the tributes but I keep chanting in my head, the same thing over and over like a mantra:
"He's Capitol Kaylar. They all are. All but you. You can't trust them, they took Kes."
"Right, well, let's just watch your highlights shall we?" he says, with an obviously faked smile. Maybe the little girl from four is not so loveable after all.
The huge screen in front of the stage lights up and the Capitol anthem plays to accompany the seal which has become emblazoned on my eyes over these past few weeks. The screen flicks from scene to scene, showing all of my most brilliant and excruciating moments in the games. It reminds me rather uncomfortably of the tape I saw Testa watching on the train. I wonder bitterly if I will still be watching and crying over this tape when I am old and decrepit.
Eventually the video comes to its final clip. A desperate, ragged girl falls to her knees beside her best friend and protector as he writhes in a crimson puddle on the grass. The Cornucopia glints in the distance as the moon appears. The girl sobs as she exchanges words with her dying partner. When he closes his eyes she draws weapon from his body and plunges it into her own before coming to rest on the ground beside him. They hold hands as they pass from the world and the trumpets blare to signal the end of the games.
Within seconds a huge Capitol hovercraft materializes and comes in to land just meters away from the bodies, unsettling the grass and sending still wet blood flying in a tornado of red. Capitol medics surge from the craft and the girl's body is carried inside. The craft takes off again, bound for the Capitol hospital which would save the girl's life. Before the screen fades to black the cameras make sure to get a close shot of the boy's dying face as the strangely unconnected cannon fires and the anthem fades in for a final time.
There is a riot of clapping and cheers but I stay as I am my expression grim. How can they enjoy it so, watching the children of their country die and be tortured? I can't imagine being raised in a world where this passes as entertainment. I resent every last individual in that crowd, with the exception of my prep team and Dolor, of course. I wonder what he thinks of my performance, it was his idea after all. That's when the idea comes to me. I won't let all of this have happened for nothing. One last act.
Suddenly president Malum is onstage by my side, reciting the dreary treaty if treason which gave birth to the Hunger Games. Finally he finishes his speech and after thanking everyone for being here, he places the twisted silver crown on my head. I am the victor.
As he struts of back to his mansion, Ceaser turns to me with a fatherly smile to ask me one final question before the cameras shut off and I get to go home. One final question that I know I must answer.
"Is there anything you would like to say to the people who made this all possible Kaylar?"
After a moment's pause for thought, I clear my throat. This is it Kaylar, make it count.
"Just one thing." to my relief my rusty vocal cords begin to work and my voice sound strong and defiant. "Alix was a boy who put those in need before himself. Winda was blind, she had no chance but still she stayed strong. Ensue kept herself alive while her skin was ravaged with burns and Kes, well he was the most amazing creature I ever met. You people took that away, these fine people. You need to realise that if you keep it up this way there will soon be no decent people left on this planet. These people that you treat like objects, they are ten times the human beings you will ever be."
With that I shed my crown, dropping it to the floor with a clatter and stride confidently off stage. I catch a glimpse of Dolor's face in the crowd as I go. I'm sure I see him wink.
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