The last time Hank received a hug was the day the games had started. Down in his small launch room, he and his stylist, Felecia, sat making small talk while both awaited the games to start. It was an eerie calm than embrace the room. The cold concrete walls and cold interior made Hank's last moments indoors a depressing experience. Soon, he would have to fight for his life. He wondered why after being pampered in the Capitol's luxury the past few days they chose to make the entrance to the games so cold.
Felecia bantered on about Hank's rough back round on the range being an asset. She tried to bolster his spirits with her own special version of a pep talk, but it was all in vain.
"Ma'am, can you do me a favor? Reckon since this is the end for us, can we just speak in plain truth." Hank was solid and direct with the happy woman. The stick sweet personality was not helping him in these last moments.
"Well, I never thought you wanted to really hear the truth. It is sort of, well, different," she responded in shock.
"I fixin to die out there. That's the plain truth ma'am. I know it and so do you. Let's just stick with that. Pa don't raise no fancy talkers."
"Ok then, if you really want the truth," she paused and pursed her lips if to hold back a terrible scream that was boiling in her. Felecia looked off into the corner, then turned back to Hank and dropped the happy smile for a blank serious gaze.
"My boy, I hoped you made the most of your time in the Capitol because you are going to die young." The words were cold and heartless, but rang with a sense of honesty.
"That's more like it," Hank remarked.
Felecia continued, "I've seen many tributes come and go. They all lie to themselves in one way or another. They tell themselves that the odds will truly be in their favor, but sadly, they are not. They all die in one way or another."
Hank could only stair at her in the cold silence of the moment. She had delivered exactly what he had asked for, but he was not at all a surprised by her answer. It was in fact the plain and ugly truth. Hank knew this for all it was worth. These would be his last hours if not days alive. He made no illusion to what he was getting into.
"Thank you," was all Hank could reply with. He sat down on the small table against the concrete wall and smiled. Felecia walked over and sat beside him. She pressed up against the boy so they were side to side and smiled at him. Hank started to stared off into the distance, but turned his head as Felecia put her arms around him and gave him a slight squeeze.
"I've watch six tributes go off into the games, but none with your conviction." Her voice sullen and her face pained with sad emotion. "I've never like this part of the job. It is hard to watch the tributes go off. You know they are not coming back, but you smile and fake it for their sake. You try and make it easy on them."
A silence filled the room. It was only broken by the sound of Felecia pulling back tears and trying to contain her emotions. Hank was suddenly shocked by her display. He had always assumed that this woman was cold and heartless to the suffering of the tributes like most of the capitol citizens. He never suspected that under the makeup and fake smiles there was a caring woman. All this time, she knew what she was doing to him. She kept up appearances for his sake, but inside she hated what the end result was. In those last moments of calm, Hank understood that not everything in the Capitol was evil and corrupt.
"You know," Felecia continued, "I never watch the games, I only watch the results. I can't stand to see the killing. I never developed a taste for watching tributes fall into the madness of the slaughter or the cruel devices of the gamemakers." She paused for the dramatic effect Hank had come to expect from her.
"I watched the first year I had a tribute. She died slowly of wounds from an animal attack. It was heart breaking watch her slowly slip away. I couldn't sleep for three days. I was haunted by the memory of the girl weeping for her father. It was hard to accept that I had prepared her for that fate." Felecia's voice was almost at a whisper when she finished speaking. She hugged Hank tight and kissed him on his forehead. It was the last gesture of kind physical emotion Hank had felt up until Squirrely hugged him on the cold morning.
Hank turned towards Squirrely in their warm blanket wrap and spoke in a way that resembled Mark's tone. He knew that the girl from district six was just down the hill. She had killed Mark, but from the sound of the leaves on the ground, she had yet to move from the position. Hank listened intently for any sign of her approaching.
"Reckon she is out there and I'm fixin we need to take care of her," Hank remarked.
Squirrely started to stand up as she spoke. "I don't think she'll be a problem for us," she replied.
"I hope not," Hank commented. He wanted this to be over now. He did not want to have to spend another night in the cold. With Mark dead and only two girls left, Hank finally felt hope. For the first time, Hank thought he might actually have a chance. All he had to do was plunge into the dark space that Mark seemed to live in almost the whole time he had known him. He was going to have to kill on his own if he wanted to go home.
As Squirrely began to stand up, Hank though of what it would take to do the deed.
"Are you ready to…" The words Hank was trying to deliver were cut short by a sudden piercing pain in his back and chest. He looked down to see crimson red suddenly staining his jacket. Then, he felt a hard thump to the head and the world went black.