Aftermath, Part One.
Seren Dobrana, 18 years, District Two Female
Victor of the 155th Hunger Games
It's so quiet.
I never realized how awful it was, until now.
The only sound is a sharp, rhythmic beeping somewhere off to my right. Judging by the sharp pressure currently holding my wrist down, it's making sure I'm still alive.
Because I won. Right. Even though the details of most of it are fuzzy, I at least know I won. My heart seems to be working just fine, but alive doesn't even seem to be the most fitting word. I was barely injured. All they had to do was straighten my nose back, fix the slice on my arm, fade away the bruises. In comparison, I'm more alive than most people that get out.
A hand touches my arm, just gently enough to register. "Hey, kid."
That's Ashlar, not Cicely, and it's not all that surprising. It still feels like there's more than one person in the room. Apparently that's a skill I've picked up that I didn't even know about. I crack open my eyes, looking in his direction, and he smiles. Sure enough, Cicely is perched on a stool just next to the closed door, gnawing on her nails. She looks up towards me, raises an eyebrow, and then resumes the task. She couldn't look more out of place, sitting awkwardly, looking at everything around her with a vague disinterest. And I'm included in that.
"How you feeling?" Ashlar questions, trying to smile despite the awkwardness.
"Good. I think," I decide. I feel fine physically. There was nothing that was really endangering me anyway. Being warm, content, it's better than what I was a few hours ago. Or days. It's too easy to remember the numbness in my fingers and the chattering of my teeth. All the blood.
"So no need to get the doctor?"
"No. Promise."
Ashlar looks satisfied enough with that, but Cicely looks up at me, eyes narrowed. I should've prepared myself for this storm. She didn't like me before, and she probably doesn't now. Hell, it's probably worse now. Before I can even open my mouth she cuts me off.
"Interview is in fourteen hours. You should get moving." All business with her. As expected.
"I gave you more than two minutes after you woke up," Ashlar says evenly. "Common courtesy here would be appreciated."
"We don't have time for common courtesy," she growls. "You've seen the mess this has become. It's up to her to fix it."
"Fix what?"
I watch the two of them stare at each other, but Cicely always wins. It's a well-known fact. Ashlar doesn't falter under her gaze, matching it evenly, but she'll still act like it was never a question. She comes out on top or no one does.
"That organization that Trevall was a part of," Cicely starts. "President Gardell ordered it destroyed a few hours ago on live television. They're sending their best Peacekeeper team out there to kill them all, bomb it, whatever. They're probably almost there by now."
"And why is that my problem?" I ask, trying to keep my voice calm. Maybe I'm being more selfish than I usually would be, but I have enough to deal with. After everything I'm still expected to be able to deal with more.
"We think," Ashlar explains. "That they're going to try and pin the whole thing on Two. Or at least involve us in some way. The Capitol wants to come out of this with as little blood on their hands as possible, and if that means throwing us under the bus. We need—"
"We need you to act like nothing's wrong. To act perfect, like the Career you aren't but have to be," Cicely interrupts, glaring like she has all the right in the world.
That's it. Screw trying to be calm. Every time Cicely opens her mouth it makes my anger rise just the slightest bit more. It's just the cherry on top of the rather frustrating sundae I've been dealing with these past few days, and I can't handle it anymore.
"If you have things you want to say just get it over with," I tell her. " I know you want to. Go ahead."
Cicely leans forward, smiling like a teenager that just got approval from her parents to go to a party. I can't decide if she looks more terrifying or excited. Both at the same time is a weird combination that reminds me of Alana, and that's not a pleasant thing to reminisce about.
"I picked someone who should have been here instead of you. Oriana trained for years, ten times harder than you ever did, and yet here you are. In her place, while she sits at home robbed of an opportunity that you stole. And better yet, these Games have turned out to be the messiest in recent years, all because of one move on your part."
I know what she means. And maybe Cicely's right about one thing. If I had let the Career pack be, let it form as it should have, maybe none of this would have happened. I wouldn't be sitting here if I had let that happen, though. And neither would Oriana. To be kind of frank, she was an asshole. Everyone in the training center knew that.
Cicely has to project her anger onto someone. I get that. But it doesn't mean I have to take it.
"I'm not here because of you. Everything I did in there I did myself. Fuck yourself, Cicely. I don't owe you anything, least of all a good attitude."
Straight. Simple. To the point. Not even close to eloquent.
Cicely stares. I stare back. Ashlar looks between us, braced for the bomb to go off.
As if it hasn't already.
I watch as Cicely leaves her perch in silence, head held high as she walks out the door like I didn't just scrape away some of her dignity with my bare hands. We all know I did. The day will never come when she admits it, though. Wringing my hands in my lap, I squeeze my eyes shut just before Ashlar whistles, low and more than a little amused. He puts a hand back on my arm, but it's still gentle.
"About time someone said it."
"I mean, she did kinda help me," I admit, eyes still closed. "With the suit and all. Probably would have frozen to death without it."
"She didn't send that. I did. She kicked her feet up five minutes in and gave up."
I don't know why I'm even surprised, but it still feels like a kick to the gut. She never cared, and I shouldn't have expected her to. But she'll still get credit for it. She'll still speak to reporters like it was all her and that will never change.
And I'm going to cry again. I can already feel it happening. My emotions have been screwed with so badly I don't know which way is up.
"How long has it been?" I whisper, and he gets it. Maybe every victor does.
"Eleven hours."
Eleven hours. Less than half a day since I got out of the arena. Maybe twelve since Duke died. A full day, if I'm lucky, since we lost Kal and Meritt.
Somehow everyone's expecting me to be able to deal with that.
"If you're gonna cry, you can get it out now," Ashlar says softly. "As much as I hate to admit it, Cicely's right. Screw acting like a typical Career, because nobody's going to fall for that. Just stayed calm, collected. Don't let anything faze you."
The first tears spill out from my closed eyes, no matter how hard I try to keep them from falling. It's like the exact opposite of his words has happened. My throat's closing up and it feels like my lungs are being flooded with water, even though I made it out.
"I made it out," I repeat out-loud, my voice cracking. It doesn't help. I made it out but they didn't. So what's the point in telling myself that? It just makes it hurt more.
"Yeah, you did."
Ashlar takes my hand, squeezing tight, and thankfully doesn't voice concerns about how bad I'm shaking. There's no way Cicely acted like this, when she got out, but he's not letting it faze him.
I might have to do an interview tonight. I might have to be something I'm not.
These next few hours are mine, though.
I'm going to do with them what I damn well please, even if that does mean crying.
Ashlar finally leaves me to my thoughts, probably hell-bent on finding Cicely to make sure she's not breaking something or finding some poor innocent person to punch.
It wouldn't surprise me if she already had. I didn't think telling him that would help.
The minutes tick by into almost another hour before a nurse comes in. An hour of just stewing in my own thoughts, which are so jumbled there's barely anything discernible. It's easier to try and pull them all apart when no one's watching me, though. For all Ashlar wants to do he can't help me fight my own head.
When the nurse comes in she doesn't introduce herself. All I have to go by is the sunny smile she keeps tacked on her face, like she'd rather be nowhere than here. Her hair is a mish-mash of orange and red and yellow, almost like that last sunrise in the arena. Here I am, comparing a lady's hair to something I'd rather not remember. And I wanted to give myself credit for being emotionally intact.
I watch as she takes the IV out of my arm, unhooking me from the various machines lining my bedside. I don't know if she's avoiding talking because she doesn't think I want to or because she thinks it'll freak me out more.
Really, I don't even know. It's probably a good thing she's not talking all that much.
She looks about to leave when she produces a neatly folded pile of clothes, placing them at the end of the bed.
"Need any help with this?"
I stare at her, arms wrapped around my drawn-up knees, and try to wonder what the hell she's thinking. Is she just offering out of courtesy? How many times has she done this? Better yet, how many people take the offer? I may not be in the greatest of conditions, but that still doesn't mean I want her help.
Maybe, just maybe, I'm more bitter than I thought.
"I'm good," I inform her. She smiles again, nodding, and heads for the door. Maybe she's used to that answer, too.
"Thanks, though," I try, trying not to grimace at my own awkwardness. It's not like she did anything to me personally. It's just her job, and I should really get over it.
She nods. "There's a Peacekeeper waiting outside to take you back to your floor when you're ready."
She leaves after that, closing the door with a soft click behind her.
I can only stare at the clothes at the end of the bed for so long.
It doesn't take me long to change out of the flimsy gown into the sweater and sweatpants she left behind, and even though the floor is freezing against my bare feet it at least reminds me that my toes are still there. When I first got on the hovercraft I was so numb I was convinced I would wake up with less fingers and toes than originally planned.
Even though I could probably spend another hour in the room I peek my head out the door, staring at the Peacekeeper waiting outside. Whoever they are, they do nothing but gesture down the hall. Probably in the direction I'm supposed to go.
I can't even be trusted to get upstairs by myself. Why I'm surprised, I have no idea. And I guess I have no choice but to listen. Wherever we are, it's nowhere I've been. All I recognize on this floor is the area where the prep teams first took us, but the hallways are all a mystery. Every time I check over my shoulder the Peacekeeper is still just as close as they were before, slowing down whenever I do.
The Peacekeeper finds an elevator quicker than I ever would, waits for me to get in first, and takes the courtesy of pressing the button for the second floor, while I stare at them the entire time. I really can't even tell what they look like. For all I know they're staring back at me the same way.
"Come here often?" I ask them, getting absolutely nothing in response but the same cold stone silence. I knew my humour took a massive blow, but even I didn't think it was that bad. It could just be my red and puffy face convincing them that I'm really not all that funny right now. Lord only knows I don't feel it.
The elevator dings and I escape onto the second floor before they can make me. There's no more presence at the back of my shoulder afterwards though, and when I turn back to the closing elevator the Peacekeeper is still in it.
So I guess I'm alone. Again.
And really, alone might actually be best for me right now.
There's no one up here. Not even Cicely or Ashlar are making enough noise, if they are around, to be a nuisance. I stand outside the elevator for a long time, wrapping my arms around myself and exhaling. The floor still looks the same. The table where we ate dinner every night still sits in the middle of the room, empty.
This magnificent, wide world I imagined after getting out isn't there. Nothing's changed at all.
For some reason, I expected it to look so different. So full of possibilities. I guess that was just what I wanted to believe all along; some sort of delusional fantasy that I had convinced myself of when in fact there was never such an option. Why would anything have changed, just because I thought it would?
I take time to look around, to poke through things that I already poked through my first day here, Meritt off alone in his room. I had tried dragging him around, at first, but it had only succeeded in small bits. It wasn't until that day at the chariots that he really followed me for the first time, and after that it just continued. I never really expected that breakthrough to happen.
His room is empty.
I don't know why I expected it to be anything else.
The world's a whole lot easier to ignore when you pull the covers over your head and close your eyes.
It's easy to imagine that there's nothing out there. But after an hour I hear the chime of the elevator again, Cicely's voice rising above the quietness of the floor. Her footsteps go thundering past my closed doorway. Retreating into her own room. I'm convinced on some level that I'll be left alone. Five minutes later there's a knock on the door. I know there's no point in answering. If it's the escort whose name I can't even be bothered to conjure up, she'll just barge in here anyway.
It's not, though.
"You still alive in here?"
Ashlar. Again. There's the soft sound of the door scraping over the floor so I stick my arm out of the blankets and give him a thumbs up. He chuckles quietly, and then the edge of the bed dips under his weight.
"You want to spend the next few hours under there or come and do something?"
"Do I have a choice?"
"Yes," he insists. "Why do you think I came in here? If Cicely had she would have grabbed you by the ankles, blankets and all, and pulled you outside."
I pull the blankets down to the bottom of my nose and peer at him. He's sitting there, calm as ever. And I know he'd leave me alone, if I asked, but what's the point? If I do sit in here until I have to get ready for the interviews, I'm just going to spend the next few hours hating myself. Or everyone else in here. Considering how nice Ashlar is being, I don't think I should.
Grumbling, I kick the blankets off, swinging my legs over the edge of the bed. Ashlar looks no short of amused.
"Don't say anything," I mutter. I know I don't look great. My hair, in the reflection of the mirror, doesn't look so great either. I brush my fingers through it half-heartedly, but it doesn't do the amount of good I was hoping for.
"Wasn't planning on it."
He gives me a moment to collect myself, at least, before he takes me back outside. It's a good thing, too, because the last thing I expected was to see more people sitting in the common area. Valiant is sitting perched on the edge of the couch, Costa and Theo from Four perched on the arm of the couch next to him. I come to a halt so fast Ashlar nearly stumbles into my back.
"There she is!" Costa crows, practically leaping to her feet. "Good for a hug?"
I blink in surprise, nodding dumbly. It's a little awkward, when she steps forward and wraps her arms around me, but still gentle. And she asked, of all things, before she even got close. It doesn't make any sense. I killed Elias, put a knife in his heart when there was no other option. Meritt took Lynn out in a matter of seconds, giving none of us any chance to react.
Costa steps back. "I see those gears turning. Don't worry about it, I'm serious. You kill who you have to kill. We've all done it."
"Shit happens," Theo agrees, and after that it's easier to accept the comfort after that. To accept the arm he wraps around my shoulders, squeezing briefly before he takes back his place on the couch.
I can't help but see the hurt in Valiant's eyes though, when he embraces me. There's no more Galore siblings to lose, after this.
"Thank you for taking care of him," he says quietly, and I nod into his shoulder. It was never my best, but I did what I could in the time I had. It wasn't enough, either, judging by the outcome, but I have to live with that. With what I did do, in that short amount of time. Cared about them, watched their backs whenever they were ahead of me.
"I tried to get Ivory to come up here," Valiant begins, looking over my shoulder to Ashlar. "But you know how she is."
"What, still bitter and petty as all hell?" Theo asks. Costa grins.
I find myself smiling too.
"Apple doesn't fall far from the tree, then," I manage. I can think of everyone, of my friends, of the people I killed, but when I think of Cerise I don't feel bad. Maybe I would have, if it had happened further down the line. But in that moment, it didn't affect me at all. It still doesn't. It's a blessing, feeling nothing in the storm of emotions that have been threatening to engulf me since I woke up.
Costa lets out a barely concealed cackle.
"You want a drink?" Valiant asks me. I'm still smiling, and it doesn't feel entirely wrong.
So that's how it ends up. The group of us sitting on the couch, drinks in hand. Talking about the things distract us from the hell we're currently in. Others join us, eventually. The Sixes and the Twelves. Sciel from Three and Kellen from Ten, together, settling in amongst the conversation with little to no effort. Cicely stays in her room.
Crux from Nine is the last one to come upstairs. He sits next to me, just for a moment, before he gets up to get himself a drink. It's brief, but he presses his shoulder into mine. Says nothing, for a long moment. He's only a year older than me, won last year, and maybe that's why it makes so much sense. He felt it the most recently, what I'm going through right now.
"It gets easier," he says. "You may not believe it now, but you'll accept it one day."
I nod, a grateful smile blooming across my face. When he comes back with his drink he elbows his way onto the couch next to Kellen, laughter breaking out across the room when the two of them nearly go toppling onto the floor.
It doesn't take me long to notice that the Eights and the Elevens never show up. Valiant made an effort to get everyone onto this floor, but not everyone accepted. It's not hard to see why. It's even easier to tell that this isn't how it usually is. It's usually all of them, no matter the circumstance, but there's still anger brewing underneath the surface, and so they stay away.
This is a family. It breaks and comes back together every year.
Next year will be different.
And maybe, like Crux said, it will be easier.
"Are you excited?"
"Oh totally," I say, voice deadpan. Cadmus turns his narrowed eyes on me, now an alarming shade of purple. They were green before the games.
"What did I say about the sarcasm?"
I shrug. He shakes his head, but he's smiling almost fondly. Him and the rest of the prep team have been surprisingly kind. They even let me sit an extra hour with the rest of the victors before Costa took me downstairs. She even sat with me for a few minutes, talking quietly, before the prep team shooed her back into the hallway. They've been gentle, though, since she left. Completely unlike how they were at the beginning, all business. Ovid takes his time sweeping my hair back, and Ismene is soft as she tilts my head back and forth, hands gentle against my jaw.
The dress, when Livia brings it in, is the same shade of dark red that my jacket was. Planned, clearly, and she notices my hesitation. It's the first time I've seen her since I got down here, and she gives me a quick, one-armed hug before she steps back.
"You know you can do anything, right?" She asks me. I swallow, and feel the golden flecks they've painted next to my eyes pull at my skin.
"If you think so."
"I know so," she insists. "You did it, but we all watched. And believe me. After that, you can."
I nod, but I know she's not convinced. Ovid pats my shoulder, something clearly meant to be reassuring, but I only feel the nerves in my stomach twist up more. Every single emotion about to come up at once.
"This will probably make you cry anyway, but I'm still gonna say it," Livia says. She puts her hands on my shoulders, leaning in close. "Would any of those boys want you to be crying over them right now?"
Well, at least I knew it was coming. I feel the tears build up almost instantly, and blink frantically. No need to ruin all of their hard work on top of everything else. Her hands tightens against my shoulders almost to the point of pain, but it's grounding. Something to focus on other than all the misery. The thing is, I already did cry over them. After Kal and Meritt. This morning, for Duke, because I didn't have a chance to before.
It's time to stop crying.
"Obviously you knew them a lot better than me. But I'll be damned if that Six boy isn't about to come down here and kick your ass for sniveling about him. Which is exactly what you need to do. That's what they'd want. Show them what you've still got."
I let out a choked laugh, still trying to push the tears back. The image is all too clear in my head. That is something Kal would do, then or now. Let me get it out, and then tell me to kick ass anyway. That's what they'd all do.
"Think I can manage that. Did enough of that the past few days anyway. Might as well keep the streak going."
Livia grins. "That's my girl."
The thing is, I didn't prepare myself to see the recap.
Walking on-stage, in comparison, is the easy part. The dress is sweeping around my feet, the gold rings and bracelets heavy around my hands. I look regal, like one of those queens in all the perfect stories you'd read when you were little.
I'd be surprised if any of those queens ever felt this way on the inside.
Edolie takes my hand, raises my arm to the crowd. The cheers are there, but there's an underlying uneasiness. I can't help but notice that some of the officials in the crowd keep glancing towards the President, eyes concerned. She sits high on her impenetrable balcony, back straight, eyes steely.
Head Gamemaker Mervaine winks at me.
Asshole.
I remember what Cicely said this morning. It feels like a lifetime ago.
Act like nothing's wrong.
I have the power to fix this, right now. And I'll be damned if I'm not at least going to try.
It starts with the basics. With Edolie asking me how I'm doing after everything that happened, how my day has been since I woke up. The crowd is quiet, for the most part. Some are bigger fans than others. I wish that this conversation was the extent of it, that after this I could go back to the second floor. Get on the train tomorrow and just go home, like I've wanted to since I woke up.
The room goes dark anyway, the screen lights up.
Nothing I could say to myself would make it easier.
The bloodbath is no surprise. I was there to see it all. Elias' knife in the Twelve boy's throat, his body plummeting into the water. What we didn't see from the ship was the creatures that dragged him under as soon as he landed. Alana's hands wrap around the Ten boy's throat, squeezing so hard her knuckles go white, and then he's dead. After that it's Duke saving my life, helping me kill Cerise, Lynn's spear in her own stomach with Meritt holding onto the other end.
All the while Kal stands there, half-terrified and half-confused.
The Nine boy snaps the Twelve girls neck against a metal railing, not even realizing until seconds later. Larkin slits the Three girls throat, a move that surprises even me. I never knew Larkin had that amount of capability in her. Erna puts a sword through her own allies face not long after. Some in the crowd shriek and moan, clearly sick at the action like they haven't already seen it a hundred times over.
All the while I watch us. How close we were, how we moved as one unit after only days of knowing each other. At the easy smiles, the laughter in the dead of night. At the way we clung to each other when the mutts first came out.
The mutts take the Seven girl after her allies let her go off the balcony. I watch as Alana rips Elias apart in the hallway, her tomahawks nearly smashing the cameras to pieces. Larkin finds him and Duke sits with him and I kill him. That's how the story goes, so simple. It never felt that simple in there.
Watching us split is almost the hardest part. It hits me, all of a sudden, that that was the last time I ever saw Meritt.
Tears well up in my eyes. The burn is already familiar.
I never knew that Sinora killed both her allies. But she kills Kinnon and there's no remorse in her eyes. The Three boy seems to share the sentiment, his own ally lying on the ground, choking on his own blood and the ruined hole in his throat.
Meritt and Duke kill Erna, but fail to kill Rover. I see myself the first cracks in Meritt's eyes, the ones that were just waiting to split open the whole time we were there. It feels like I never knew him, seeing his eyes just then. And maybe I never did. The cheers that erupt when Kal and I take on Alana, when he shoots her in the back, when I take her head off in one swipe, echo around the stadium. Even Edolie turns to me with a charming smile. Praise, clearly. I put on a good show, during that fight. They share none of the same sentiment for Meritt, who they must hate now. And just like I knew all along, he puts a knife in Larkin's spine and rips her throat open like a well-oiled machine.
It's a good thing I fled the feast. The Nine boy falls first, because the Five girl doesn't need two arms to slit his throat, and then the innocent little Seven boy nearly splits Three's neck in two with the force of his axe.
I know it's coming. I squeeze my eyes shut, briefly. Get rid of the tears. They're just going to come back.
It's like finding Kal all over again, seeing him tied up in the bottom of the ship. But I get to see what we didn't; Meritt returning and freeing him. Making the decision to live, before Kal accidentally kills them both. Meritt only took him in the first place because he was terrified out of his mind, and he still was, but he was willing to try. To be whole again, with our help.
It takes Edolie reaching over and squeezing my hand to realize that I am indeed actually crying. No one seems put off by it, though. That might be the most surprising.
Everything after that is just the motions. The Five girl, and the Seven boy. They both made it so much further than I thought they would. Probably deserved it, after everything, a hell of a lot more than I even still do.
I don't watch when Rover caves Duke's head in. My eyes stay firmly on my lap, Edolie's hand still in mine. They can make me sit here but they can't make me look. I saw it once and if I never see it again, it'll still be too soon.
Rover sinks into the depths as I break the surface, and Sinora is there waiting. We both look so tired. One moment of weakness, and it was all over. There's a level of horror in Sinora's eyes that I didn't let myself watch, in the moment. I couldn't look at her dying then, and it's still hard now. The crowd is happy, watching me standing there silhouetted by the sun, swords still in hand, but it feels like I'm the one with the hole in my chest.
The lights flicker back on. I take a deep, shaky breath.
"Quite a journey you went through, Seren," Edolie smiles. She let's go of my hand and pats my arm, instead. "What was going through your mind?"
I pause. "This whole time ... I just wanted something more. I didn't expect to find it in that arena. I didn't expect to find people I would care about so much. I thought everything important would come after I won. I was wrong."
"So they were important to you? Your allies."
"You saw it for yourself, but yes. More than I thought possible." I can't say the word love out-loud, not like I want to. That's not a word anyone wants to hear right now, certainly not me.
"And what's changed now that you are here with us?" Edolie asks.
"Not as much as I thought. I certainly didn't expect to come back to all of this." Everyone knows what this is. The words are unspoken, but known all the same. "I just hope that we can all absorb what has happened and move on. Mistakes were made, by many people. Things we never expected to see. But I know where my loyalty lies, and so does the rest of my District."
From the wings, Ashlar gives me a thumbs up. Cicely doesn't do much of anything, but she also isn't scowling, which I consider a vast improvement. Edolie beams, and quickly ushers me to my feet. An appropriate ending, then. The crowd claps, smiling as well, clearly put at ease. The President's expression hasn't changed much, but she gets to her feet like the rest of them, joining in.
Mission far from accomplished, but it's a start.
I just wish any of what I said was true.
I don't know if there's a place left for my loyalty to lie.
"I'll be in the back room if you need anything."
Livia pauses by the door, eyebrows raised, and I nod. She escapes to her back room, clearly needing an amount of solitude after the night. She helped me change back into something more comfortable, unwound my hair and scrubbed the make-up from my face.
Now I stand alone in the hallway by the stage, the lights off, arms wrapped around myself. Maybe that time was for herself, but she knows I need it too.
I could go back upstairs. But upstairs means more smiles and I don't think I'm up to it anymore. I let myself slide to the floor, leaning back against the wall, sighing. Just like earlier, it's easy when I can't see anything. When my eyes are closed, and I can just pretend nothing ever happened. My heart's still pounding too fast, an uncomfortable weight in my chest.
It's not over. I don't know if it will ever be over. But at least I get to go home.
"You know, someone's probably gonna step on you if you stay back here for much longer."
I flinch, glancing down the hallway, and Kiero Mearlove is standing there, hands shoved into his pockets.
Perfect.
I look away and focus on staring down the wall in front of me. It's also easier when I can't see him. Or anyone, really. Despite my lack of response, he stays standing, glancing around the dark hallway.
"I'm sorry," I force out after a long moment, hating the way my voice shakes. It's probably a good thing the Elevens didn't show up earlier. Him either. That would have just led to a breakdown in front of everyone, which I don't need added to my plate right now.
"What for?"
"You know what for," I insist. "Please don't make me say it."
Do I actually feel bad for Rover? In the moment, I didn't. In the moment all I wanted was for him to be dead. Because that's what I thought he deserved. He killed someone I thought I loved and that's what he should have deserved.
"If every one of us apologized for every single thing we did in there," he says. "We'd never leave this damn place. You shouldn't be sorry."
"I killed your tribute and you don't think I should be sorry?"
"I spent so long trying to convince Rover that life was worth living. And for a while there, I think it almost worked. But towards the end ... I don't want you to feel bad. The guilt will eat you alive. You shouldn't feel bad for someone who was better off dead in the long run."
I blink, surprised. "Didn't expect to hear that coming out of your mouth."
"It's the truth. The hard truth. One that I'm still learning. But if he wanted to survive, he would have fought back. If he had, and he had won, I'd have walked into his house a month later to find him dead anyway."
I fiddle with my hands while he stares at me. He hasn't moved from his initial spot, half cast in shadow. I can hardly even see him. His voice is oddly calm, though, a certainly I didn't expect him to have in such a place. And maybe he's right. Maybe Rover was better off dead. After everything he went through, it's hardly surprising.
"I think it's better that you survived than him," he says. "Because you want to live."
He's right. I do want to live. More than anything. I want to push all this away and take back the world instead of letting it crush me. Right now, that just seems impossible. There's too much weighing down on my shoulders, and I can't hold it up on my own. Even with my family, even with the other victors, I don't know how I'm expected to shoulder what's happened.
"Come on," he says, jerking his head back. No explanation, and I'm too tired to argue.
I get to my feet and follow him.
The location turns out to be the eighth floor. Mia Calison is sitting back in an arm chair, staring at the television. When she sees me she doesn't look surprised; she hardly spends a second glancing at the elevator when we step out. All she does is grab me a drink similar to her own and put it on the table, wordlessly. She herself looks tired, but she still manages to smirk at my hesitance, nodding towards the couch. I expect it to be awkward, when I draw my feet underneath me, but it's not. Kiero sits down at the other end and Mia throws a pillow at him, hitting him square in the chest.
They hardly talk. There's not really anything to say. They just sit in a silence that for once, I don't actually hate. The television hums quietly in the background, and eventually Mia excuses herself to go to sleep. Kiero falls asleep at the other end of the couch less than an hour later, and I slump down myself.
I fall asleep eventually. It's not quick, and not easy, but at least it happens.
Like I said, it's a start.
I'm woken up in the morning to someone stomping across the room.
"Wake the fuck up," Cicely growls. I jerk into a sitting position. Kiero's still out cold. Mia is standing on the other side of the room, coffee half-risen to her mouth, looking perpetually annoyed. There's a blanket draped across my lap, and I catch it before it can slide off the couch.
"Morning to you too," Mia grumbles, taking a sip. "Christ."
Cicely snatches the remote off the table and flicks the television on. Mia must have turned it off some time in the night. What I didn't notice was Ashlar, lurking behind Cicely. He looks worried, a heavy crease drawn between his eyebrows.
"What's wrong?" I ask.
"This is what's wrong," Cicely informs me, instead of letting him answer. She switches the channel to something news-related, and instantly there are flashing red emergency banners darting across the screen. All I can see is the streets of the Capitol in absolute chaos, people running back and forth. Terrified screaming. Someone no doubt getting this view from a hovercraft.
"What the hell?" I ask this time, because it sounds more appropriate. Mia narrows her eyes over the brim of her coffee cup, and reaches over to fling another pillow at Kiero, who wakes with a start. He glances around frantically, only getting more confused when he catches sight of Cicely standing in the middle of the living room, pointing angrily at the television.
The camera view switches. This time it's on a person, fuzzy at first from distance, but the angle switches. All of a sudden I can see the person with perfect clarity, and my heart nearly stops.
"Is that—"
"Oh, shit," Mia says.
There are bodies in the street. People screaming, running for their lives. More than one gun, on this person. Who I recognize but don't at the same time.
"Big brother Arker is back," Cicely hisses. "And I think he's a little pissed off."
Your brother's alive.
That's what Meritt said in the recap, just before they both died. And I didn't know what to think, then. Everything else was so overwhelming it was hard to focus on that one thing. I'd nearly forgotten about it, but right now it's here in front of me. Undeniable proof.
He looks just like Kal.
"Oh fuck," Kiero mutters. He's awake now, apparently, and I agree with the sentiment.
Oh fuck, indeed.
I can't believe I'm resurrecting the Surprise Bitch meme in the year 2017.
In all seriousness, if you want an actual explanation, you can check my profile. Also I love you guys.
Until Next Time (and there will be one, promise).