Don't Look Back—Chapter 29

A/N: Such sadness, very cry, much blood…

Enjoy Ch. 29!

Chapter 29—Primrose Appears

Prim's POV

Three days later

The doors slide open. I step off of the aircraft and into the warm Twelve air. March is slowly slipping away. It looks like the summer is going to be hot.

Haymitch, Thomas, and I are at the head of the line, Jonah and Josh holding Melissa by the arms behind us, and the rest of the crew bringing up the rear. We rush past the Centre and into the Letter, heads high. My arms are pinpointed with hexagonal shapes.

"I give you the revived Primrose Everdeen!" Thomas yells.

The crowd of Rebels who came to the meeting cheer.

"As you may now know, we lost four innocents to the Capitol's wrath," I say, my voice choked off. "My sister, Katniss Everdeen, my two best friends, Cassia James and Eleanor Opal, and my love, Ian Reseda." The ones who did not know gasp in surprise, the ones who did hang their heads in sorrow. "We are gathered here today in the Letter to bring news of developments, however." I prod Melissa in the back. She straightens.

"I am currently working on a microchip that can revive maimed organs," she announces. "I am also working on forging your trust. I no longer wish to be a Capitolite."

Thomas rolls his eyes in disgust. "As if we would work with you."

"Did I not just state that I am forging it?" Melissa says, her eyes sharp. "Ignorance is bliss, is it not?"

I touch the cuts on my arms absentmindedly. "You were talking about your advancements on the Revival Chip."

"Ah, yes. I am about a quarter of the way into discovering how to revive bodies. It is a matter of repairing the maimed organs and making them to work again. Very complicated. The cells are especially difficult—"

"Now, Melissa, we don't want you giving away all the secrets," I hiss under my breath.

"Yes. Well."

"We have come to take into account of your opinion!" I call to the crowd, raising a fist. They yell and scream and clap their hands. "Shall we dispose of Melissa Reynolds after she creates the microchip, or shall she be thrown in the prisons of Twelve?"

"All in favor of the death penalty raise your hands!" Haymitch jeers.

Almost everyone sends a fist skyward. Melissa bows her head.

"Thank you for your vote!" Thomas calls.

We take Melissa by the arms and exit, the meeting over as soon as it started. As we walk, wild howls and shrieks follow us out. "REBELLION! REBELLION! REBELLION!"

"I assumed as much," Melissa says sadly.

"You should've," I say coldly, dropping the formality. "After what you did to me and my life and everyone I loved."

"I am sorry, Primrose." Her eyelashes are strung with water droplets. It's raining. "I deserve to die, and that is why I will finish the microchip and let you take my life just as you did your sister, your friends, your love…"

A weight presses on my stomach, harder than usual. She's just playing with you, I try to think.

"Stop messing with my sister," Thomas snaps, tightening his hold on Melissa. Her teeth dig into her lip. She is determined not to give into pain. "You're a despicable insect."

"Thank you, I try. However, I will complete the chip. I would like to see how amazing I am at my job." Her lips curl. "The stumbling block is, will I give it to you?"

"Yes, you will," I say, teeth gritted. "If you don't, we'll—"

"Kill me? But weren't you going to already?"

I narrow my eyes. She's too clever.

"I will not sink to Capitolite standards, but we will be forced to kill you. I only beg of you to give me the microchip."

"Or what?"

I sigh. "C'mon out."

Maureen Hanker appears from the shadows. Melissa goes white. Maureen smiles and waves cruelly at her sister.

"Where is your husband?" I say abruptly to Melissa.

"My what?"

"Your last name is Reynolds, her last name is Hanker. You claim you are siblings."

"Our parents divorced. I am the eldest child. Maureen is the middle child. The smallest daughter, Monica, who would be about sixteen, now lives with our mother in the Capitol." Melissa swallows. For the first time she is nervous.

Maureen runs her fingers along her sister's cheekbones, making Melissa flush. It's the exact same gesture, only reversed, from when Melissa made me believe I hated Maureen.

"Maurey," Melissa says. "Maurey, I am so sorry, I made you a monster, I am so sorry—"

Maureen blows air out of her mouth. She holds up her pinkies and crosses them, making an X. Melissa's cheeks flush further. "No, you would not, you cannot," she says quietly to Maureen.

"She can choose to get rid of you however she likes. But you've got to wait till she finishes the microchips."

Maureen nods curtly, stepping back.

"Melissa. Please get back to work."

Melissa nods. "I shall—I shall give you the chip. To prove I am on your side. If you choose to murder me, so be it. But I am your ally. You may not want to kill me. I could be very valuable."

I swallow burning words of hate and distrust. "Thank you," I say simply, and turn on my heel.

My brother follows me out, looking worried. "We can't trust her!" he says indignantly, pressing a hand to my back. "She's a Capitolite. She's dangerous."

"But she's my only hope," I say, both quietly and fiercely at the same time. "She's the only way…she's the only chance Ian's got." My heart gives a sickening leap at the sound of his name.

His one-syllable name, three letters, two vowels. I A N. Ian. E-an. Ian.

My name has two syllables, eight letters, two vowels. E. Primrose. Pr-im-ro-z. Primrose.

Katniss. Two syllables. Seven letters, two vowels. S. Katniss. C-at-nes. Katniss.

Elly. One syllable. Four letters, one vowel. E L L Y. Elly. El-le. Elly. Or Eleanor. Three syllables. Seven letters, four vowels. R. Eleanor. El-uh-nor. Eleanor.

Cassia. One syllable. Six letters, three vowels. A. Cassia. Cas-se-uh. Cassia.

The fallen.

I turn toward Thomas.

Thomas. Two syllables. Six letters, two vowels. S. Thomas. Tom-as. Thomas.

My mind is racing, spelling names and breaking them down, thinking of rhymes and synonyms. I think of them backwards, in anagrams, in everyday speech, how they sound coming out of my mouth.

Especially his name.

"Are you okay?" Thomas asks gently, his hand now on the small of my back, applying the tiniest bit of pressure.

I shake my head slightly, rubbing my temple. "I'm fine. Just thinking."

"That's all you ever do." He brushes a lock of my hair off my forehead. His hand is on my cheek. "You feel warm."

"Wonder why," I say, the smallest drop of sarcasm applied.

"You feel alright?"

"I feel fine," I say again, as his hands touch my chest. Feeling my heartbeat. It begins beating slightly faster because the feeling is so foreign. It feels really weird, his hands on my chest.

"Sorry. Can't find a pulse to save my life," he says, slightly breathless. "Apologies. Asthma." He moves his hands around on my chest. "Ah. There it is."

Hands off, I want to think, but he's my honorary brother. He wouldn't do anything.

Thomas frowns. "Your heart rate is really high. You might want to talk to your mom. Possible fever." He removes his hands, albeit slowly. I nod, face warm.

"Bye, Thomas," I call.

"Bye," he replies, and I walk away, down the street to my house in VV.

Cassia's POV

"But why?" I say, frustrated. "Why are we here, in 'the place between dimensions'? It makes no sense. Why not just get to paradise?"

"I don't know, don't ask me," Ian says, and I can tell he's thinking of Primrose.

Suddenly I see her, smiling tiredly at me, her appearance regular, her eyes bright as can be. "Hey, Cass."

"Primrose!" I exclaim, rushing forward to hug her tightly. I pass right through her, my skin warming as I go.

"I'm just a hologram—that's not even the right word, but I'm not real. I'm the Primrose you think of."

"So you're her, but you're not."

"Yeah. It's confusing." She dismisses it with a wave of her hand. "I." She smiles and brushes her bangs out of her hands. "To answer your earlier question, you're here simply because you wish to be."

I stare at her, confused. "But I don't want to be here."

"I think you do. You all realize that if you go to the paradise that you're definitely going to go to, there's not a chance you'll see the real me ever again."

Biting my lip, I only look at her. She wears a dress made out of fire, flames snapping in the air. Her hair is interwoven with red-hot coals, but she doesn't burn. She's barefoot, but smoke wraps around her ankles like vines. She looks like a princess.

"Do you like it?" she asks, catching my eyes.

"Yeah, a lot."

She tilts her head and looks at me. "Hmm." She winks one long-lashed eye.

I look down and gasp in surprise. I'm wearing a shirt made purely out of blossoms, all different shades of green. My dark hair tumbles down my back in delicate half-curls, my hair woven with more flowers, casually messy. My skirt is made out of spring-green leaves. My legs are patterned with black tattoos, of all different kinds of flowers. I wear black sneakers, comfortably scruffy.

"You're so flowery. You smell really nice." Primrose smiles, and it feels so natural.

"Please don't go," I beg.

"Paradise's restrictions," she says with a saddening shrug. "I'll tell you something, though: don't try and look at the real me 24/7."

I lie to her. "Okay."

"Okay. I've gotta go appear to Katniss. See you, Cass." She smiles so brightly at me. "I love you."

"I love you too," I say, but she is gone, leaving only a small whirl of fire in her place. I touch it once with my finger lightly, and it transforms into a flower, laying itself against my palm. I curl my fingers around it carefully and walk off, wiping at tears that I wish I could undo.

Katniss's POV

"She's going to come to you," Cassia says. She looks amazing, like she's been showered in leaves and flowers. "I know it. It's you next."

"She made you like this?"

"She's really just the Primrose we think of when we picture her. I saw her as an angel. Cassia saw her as a warrior. I don't know what you'll see her as, or Elly." Ian bites his lip, visibly shaken. His eyes are always blank. I can tell he sees her in real life and is clearly struggling.

I draw my arm around him and pull him close. His tears soak through my black shirt. We all are wearing different things.

Cassia, obviously, wears a meadow on herself.

I wear a comfortable black hunting shirt and my father's leather hunting jacket, soft dark green pants and black hunting boots. My hair is pulled back into a silky braid.

Ian wears a shirt with a rose on it and jeans with scruffy black sneakers like Cassia's. The rose is surrounded by whirls and spirals, a shade lighter gray than the shirt. It looks like it's been covered in hieroglyphics.

Elly wears a flouncy black skirt covered in shimmering white dots with a white shirt. Her hair, tumbled and windblown, cascades down her back. She wears dark blue ankle boots.

"She'll come to you if you think about her enough," Cassia says thoughtfully, scrunching her nose and breaking through my observations. "Go off and think. Hard."

I nod and turn, breaking into a sprint. I run until I can't see the others anymore. Then, panting, I sit down on the ground and think.

I remember one time Prim wanted me to play hide-and-seek with her. Naturally, I obliged. She was about two or three. I turned around and counted.

"Kat-nish! You'we suppost'uh count to thiwty!"

I sighed. "Fine, Prim. I'll count to thirty." I turned back around and recounted, this time all the way to thirty. I even went up to thirty-five, secretly, before calling, "I'm coming to find you, Prim!"

Little giggles emitted from a bush. Branches rustle. I roll my eyes, smiling, and pretend not to hear.

"Hmm, is she behind this tree?" I asked loudly and obviously. More laughter from the bush. "Oh, no, guess not. Maybe she's behind these rocks…oh, darn it!" Extremely loud giggles. "Maybe the bush…"

"No! No!" Prim cried as I pulled away the branches. "Aww, Kat-nish. You wuined it."

"Ruined what?"

"I was gonna give you these fowers. But you wuined the suhprise." Prim's little baby hands outstretched and she handed me a bundle of white-yellow flowers. Lilies.

"Aww, thanks, Prim," I said, scooping her into my arms. "Daddy's gonna be home soon. Let's pick some more, for him. Okay?"

"Okay." She waddled off to find more lilies.

"Sweet memories," a soft, sad voice says behind me.

It's Prim.

Prim, in her shirt that won't stay tucked, forming the duck tail. Prim, in her skirt that's too long. Prim, in the worn and ripped old shoes that used to be our mother's.

Prim, innocent and careful, on the day of the reaping.

My lips start to form her name. She walks over silently and smiles. "I miss you, Kat-nish."

"Oh, ha ha," I say sarcastically, and she laughs.

"I don't remember much about my childhood—only that I learned to walk and talk really fast."

I remember. You grow up fast in Twelve, or don't grow up at all. "You're in your reaping outfit," I whisper.

"Simply how you remember me best. Tell me, do you wish I was more innocent?"

"Yeah," I blurt out.

"Really?" She raises her eyebrows. She never had this kind of confidence before. "Hmm."

"Well—I like you how you are, more devilish and warrior-like, but…I'm afraid of losing you. I lost Father and Gale and now you."

"It's sort of like I'm the one that died, isn't it?" she says. I'm surprised by her comment. "You all want me up here. But I'm not here. It's like I'm dead."

"We're all suffering up here. We don't want to be here any longer."

"But you do, that's the thing. You do."

"No, we don't! Just please let us go already."

Prim smiles and shakes her head. "Can't do that. Only you guys can."

I frown, frustrated. "Just so you know," I say peevishly, "you really should change. Those clothes are so filthy."

Prim looks down. "Yeah, you're right." She pinches her shirt and it transforms into water. Actual water, with the same texture and probably feel as water. But it doesn't slide off of her body. It's a rich blue that you can't see a thing out of. Her hair is piled on top of her head, her cheeks full of color and her smile bright.

"How—?"

"It's called will. I've got the power of paradise on my side, chick."

"I'm no chick. You're the Little Duck here."

She grins and cups her hands. A tiny chick is nestled in them, peeping. "I was talking to the actual chick."

"Liar! Oh my god, you liar!" We both grin and collapse into laughter. This is Prim. This is the Prim I know and love so dearly. This is the Prim I remember best of all.

"You could use a change too, y'know."

I back up, hands in the air. "No please."

"Shut up and let me work." She tilts her head, squinting one eye, biting her lip thoughtfully. "Oh, perfect." She smiles.

I take a look. I'm wearing a dress made out of actual smoke. It curls on the ground behind and in front of me. It's thick and smells like it should but it has no effect on my breathing or my brain. It's like pure smoke. My hair falls out of its braid for the first time in a long time, falling down my back. My face is plain and I am barefoot. Stripped down to nothing but smoke.

"'You are dust, and unto dust you shall return,'" Prim says, admiring her work. "Wowza. You look fantastic."

"I mean—how did you do that?"

"Will, big sissy. You'll learn to use it right eventually." She shrugs, her eyes suddenly violently sad. "I've gotta go. Elly's next on my list. Gotta prep for my opening line." She wiggles her fingers, the chick waddling around on the ground. I gaze at it for a moment.

"Please don't leave," I say finally.

"Oh, you'll see me soon enough," she says conversationally. "I love you, Kat-nish."

"I love you too, Little Duck."

She smiles and disappears, leaving the salty scent of sea air behind her.

I feel a painful ache in my body. The chick is still on the ground, near my foot. I nudge it once and it topples over adorable. Smiling to myself, I pick it up and hold it gently, walking back toward my friends.

Ian's POV

"She's coming for you, Elly," Katniss says, a chick on her shoulder.

"Where'd you get the bird?" I ask. My cheeks still tingle from her touch.

"Prim." Her voice is slightly choked. "And Cassia got a fire-flower-thing. What'd you get? We all got something."

"I got a kiss," I say unblushingly. Katniss throws up her hands, almost dropping the creature.

"WELL, WHAT DID WE EXPECT?" she shouts, and we all laugh together. "Seriously, though. She saved the best for you."

I smile. I guess she did.

Elly's POV

I'm already thinking of her. Up here, in the blank world of nothing but a sturdy, cool ground and a misty, swirling white sky, it's not hard to block everything out.

Everyone looks fantastic. Ian, casually handsome; Katniss, in her smoke dress.

And Cassia.

She looks so beautiful, her skin clear and white and she's strong again and she looks amazing in her leaf dress. I want to grab her and hold her.

Some might say that the three-year gap is a tad harsh. But I'm eighteen now. Cassia's twenty-one. I really don't care.

"Cassi," I say to her, touching her shoulder, breaking my Primrose thoughts. She is observing the fire cupped in her palm, her cheeks flushed.

"Hi," she says without breaking her gaze.

"I need to talk to you."

"No. You need to talk to Primrose first." She tears her eyes from the flower and looks at me. She looks windblown and fiery.

I look right at her, look right into her gray eyes, and kiss her.

She gasps in surprise, but I feel her smile against my lips. I smile back.

"God." I can feel Katniss grin. "You two are gross."

I draw away from her. Ian is looking away, tears running down his cheeks. I'd forgotten how fragile he is.

"Ian," I say quietly.

He turns and runs away.

Ian's POV

I need her so badly.

"Primrose!" I scream, my vision blurry.

She's there, still in her white dress. Her hair is falling down her shoulders, so much concern on her face.

"Oh, Ian," she says in a hushed tone.

She does nothing but point.

I stare down at the ground below me as it becomes transparent. Primrose is with a woman. T stands a little way away from her. The woman is working on something. Primrose's brow is furrowed in frustration. Her lips move. She looks exhausted. Shadows under her eyes, dirty clothing, streaked with grime. She looks beautiful, still, to me.

"I miss you," I say quietly. "I need you."

"I wish I could help you. I can't, Ian. I can't let you waste away staring at me. I'm not real. I'm a figment of your imagination. Do you understand?"

"Yes, but you're still you."

She shakes her head. "I'm not."

She pulls a feather from her hair. "Take this." And she pulls me toward her and kisses me.

I feel it. I feel her hands and her body and her hair. Everything is so familiar. My hands around her waist, on her shoulderblades, in her hair. Her hands on my back, my neck, my hair. Everything feels warm. Everything is perfect for a millimoment.

And then she pulls apart. "I'm so sorry," she says, looking at her feet. "Now you're going to waste away even more."

I shake my head.

"Even if I have to stay here a million years, I'll be right here. Your feather will be in my hands, wasted away, but I won't be. I promise. I know you're in my head. That's fine by me. In my head is better than not here. I'll wait. I'll wait forever. I'll wait for as long as it takes you to actually be here. And when you come, I'm going to pick you up and spin you around and hold you closer than I ever did before because now I realize what it's like to lose someone. Maybe I'll have to go sometime. But I will fight with every cell in my body, every bit of life that's left in me, until you come. Because if I ever leave you, even to go to paradise, I'll never be happy. I just want you. If I was homeless and sick and had no money whatsoever, I'd be the happiest person on earth if I had you. When I see you again, whether it's in three million years or in a few minutes, I'm going to become the happiest person on earth. I didn't think it was possible to love someone this much. But guess what. I just poured out my heart and soul to an image of the girl I will love until the universe is long gone and the sun has swallowed everything up and exploded. I love you."

Her face breaks into a smile as she wipes away tears. "I will make sure that she hears this." She points to the Primrose on earth. "Just remember something."

I nod.

"She'll always love you, too."