Revenge Is Not Always Sweet
Winter Hostage
I slowly emerge to life and the first thing I notice is that I'm trapped by a thick heavy blanket. I'm naked, but the fabric feels soothing against my skin. My arms are free though, except for my right, it's hooked up to six or seen different tubes. I feel a restraint against my middle and I panic, try to escape from it but a cold liquid seeps into one of the tubes and knocks me back out. When I come to, I notice that my skin is clean, my fingernails are cut back and are uniform, no longer are they different shapes and sizes. I don't try to escape from the restraint again but it doesn't stop me from being knocked out.
Each time I wake up, I notice that my skin changes. The roughness is gone and feels smooth and moisturised. My body hair is gone but I feel that's only temporal as they work on making my skin flawless. The next time I wake, I notice that my scars have disappeared. Not just the ones from the arena but also the cuts on my arm from previous meltdowns. Gone are also the scars from axes and chopping down trees. Gone is the reminder that I'm different. Gone is the memory of hacking wood together with my father. I feel my hair and notice that it's cleaner than it's have ever been. I lose all sense of time as I'm continually knocked out but eventually the time comes when I'm no longer hooked up to tubes.
I hear a door open and I try to see who it is but it's just a simple nurse who I don't recognise. She carries a small tray of food. A glass of orange juice, puffy bread and tender chicken. I would've thought that my homecoming meal would've been grander but then again, I haven't been eating food properly for two weeks. I haven't noticed how thin I am this whole time until I really look at my arms. They resemble twelve year olds arms. Thin, with little muscle. The rest of my body must look terrifying. The nurse sets my tray on my lap and I finish the meal in ten minutes; I find it a struggle to eat the whole thing.
A question bursts through my mouth before I even know what I've said.
"Two days." The nurse with peach-coloured skin says. "You've been out from the arena for two days."
I request a glass of water and when I'm finished drinking, the nurse tells me something more.
"You're going to be surgically altered. To give you back what hunger has stolen from you. It's not much, just replacing your fat cells to a healthy level. And also replacing your diminished muscle back to its proper glory."
I start to object on the news that I'm going to have cosmetic surgery but the nurse insists on telling me that both my stylist and mentor were ok with it. After she's gone, the drug seeps back into my vein and I'm unconscious again.
Finally the day comes when the blankets have been pulled back and the restraint is gone. I sit up and place my feet on the ground, scared that I won't know my balance because of my new body but I find no obscene difference and my legs hold me up. I look around if something has been laid out because I am completely naked and I see that a small shower room is open. I walk in and enter the gentlest cycle I know.
The machine dries me off and I dress in the simple outfit I am given. It's a simple outfit, fully black but with a coloured jacket. And then I realise I wore this in the arena and I scream, but no help comes. I stare at the outfit as if it was a monster but after a good ten minutes, I slide the clean underwear and clothing on. But then I take them off again and look at my body that has been tampered with. I look fuller than I ever have, my muscles are filled out and my body is redefined by a healthy amount of body fat. My thighs come together now and my belly isn't concave. My face is more rounder, my cheeks larger and my lips fuller. The once-sharp angles are soft and rounded. After close examination of my new body, I slip the clothing back on and I find it odd how they know my underwear size. It's amazingly comfortable and I begin to wonder if it's tailored to my body. The stitching and seams prove my theory.
As I walk out I remember that I'm still in the Hunger Games. Although the fighting is over, I still have cameras watching me and interviews and banquets and tours to attend to. So I put on a smile as I walk out to where my team will meet me. I suppose I should have moments where I'm excited by the fact that I'm going home but all I can think of is how I failed Matty.I'm just at the door and I pause, do I really want to open it? But then it suddenly slides open and I'm led down a passage that seems to have no other doors. I grow anxious and wonder if I'm in a special part of the Games until I hear a voice that first strikes irritation, then eagerness. Veronia, my escort.
I turn down a second corridor and see them all standing in a big chamber at the end of the hall - Veronia, Arwen, my mentor and Tain, my stylist. I immediately take off running. Maybe a victor should be more restraining and superior, especially when he knows that this is recorded live, but I don't care. I even surprise myself when I wrap myself around Arwen. She's only six years older than me. Arwen hugs me back and tells me that she knew I was special. Veronia keeps patting me and rambles on about how she made everyone know how intelligent I was. Tain just hugs me tight.
A few minutes of conversation is spared and I realise how different I am. Before the Games I couldn't even look at these people. Somehow, the Games have helped. Tain leads me down a few more hallways and into an elevator where we ride back up to Level 7. It feels good to be with him, his protective arm around me. Even though we do not speak much, a thousand words flow between us. Once, I mutter Matty's name and he just tightens his hand on my shoulder. I appreciate it. When the elevator doors burst open, my prep team surround me so quickly like a flock of birds. They chatter at a speed a thousand times normal and tell me how proud of me they are. They're so excited and I would find it bizarre, in fact, frightening before but now I just find it as amusing when Matty and I threw paint at each other. I'm no happier to see them than I would to see a beloved pet again. I'm given a real meal this time - peas, bread and even a slice of roast lamb and I finish it in half a breath. I don't ask for seconds because I don't want to vomit again.
Tain disappears while he gets my outfit and my prep team prepare me for everything they think is required. Markus, the tallest of the trio with a dark lime skin takes care of my shower for me, adjusting my settings and time limit. He helps me get undressed and ushers me in.
"Oh, they did a full body polish on you. They're so expensive! Not a single flaw left on you or your skin!" Markus whines in jealously before closing my door for privacy. When I'm done, June sets on my hair. She cuts it real short and asks me why I cut it.
"It's so badly cut. It needs to be redone." She says with a pout of sparkly purple lips.
I watch in the mirror and say goodbye to my jaw length hair. The top is longer than the sides and is swept over to the side with some glossy and super sticky mousse. I don't like how short it is but I can't help but think how it brings out my facial features. Lucidia, a very thin woman whose entire body has been dyed an intense electric blue does my makeup. This includes reshaping my eyebrows, waxing hair off my chest and belly, and shaving my armpits. Finally she sets in on defining my features. Bringing out my eyes by darkening the skin around my eyes only slightly and adding a slightly darker makeup of eyeliner that is applied with a light hand. My cheekbones are highlighted and my lips are no longer so pale. Lucidia is careful with her makeup around me.
Finally, after being plucked, shaved, scrubbed, plastered and styled, Tain arrives with my costume. I stand and remove the thin robe I was wearing. Because between me and my prep team, my body is not secret. The robe falls and I catch the bag that Tain throws at me. Inside is a dark blue, almost black pair of pants, which are slimming. A gossamer sky-blue shirt and a black blazer. I pull on my underclothes and then my costume. Tain rolls up the sleeves to his design with the cuff of my shirt outside of the blazer. And finally the shoes; black with a white edging.
"It's all about simplicity right now. This is your first night as Victor. The Capitol doesn't know much about you because the first time, you ran off and vomited. They know you're mentally unstable so when you're feeling... unsteady, just look for me in the audience. I'll be in the front row." Tain says with his dark voice. And then he hugs me afterwards.
Tain takes me by the shoulders and leads me to elevator where I will meet Arwen. As he leaves with my prep team to go peel into his own costume he hugs me again, holds me out at arms length and tells me to remember to be strong.
"You're a man now Winter, and a victor. Heads up, eyes bright, smile on. You can do this."
Arwen takes my hand and leads me to where I must rise from the stage. It's damp and dark here and I'm getting nervous because I don't damp dark places. Some final words of advice, and then I'm alone. The roar of the crowd is defeating and I wish Matty were here. The moldy smell threatens to choke me and a cold clammy sweat breaks out all over my skin. Time seems to slow down in my anxiety and I'm glad the black blazer I wear is solid enough to cover my shaking.
The crowd roars as my prep team is introduced. I imagine them bobbing and taking bows like little hummingbirds. Then Veronia is introduced, the Tain who receives a bigger applause than anyone else but I don't understand because my clothes haven't been dazzling. Then Arwen who accepts a humble applaud and then me. Blinding lights and I feel the metal plate pushing me upwards.
The doors slide open and there I am. On stage with the whole world to see me. The crowd goes mental and I think I'll need surgery to repair my ears.
Corvin Flickerman is charming and friendly as always and leads me to a single lone seat. It's wooden and ornate with a plush back and butt cushion. Corvin is amazing and charming and brilliant and introduces me and presents me in such a way that I don't even have to open my mouth; I just smile and wave, be gracious and kind. He tells a few jokes to the crowd to get us all laughing and warmed up and then it's time for the viewing.
I sit down in the ornate chair - which is surprisingly comfortable - and prepare myself to watch the Hunger Games. It doesn't take me a second to realise I'm not ready for this. I don't want to watch my twenty-three fellow tributes die; I don't want to watch Matty die. I don't need to see myself murder innocent people. How on earth have the other victors faced it alone? But I'm determined that if they can do it, so can I. But most of them weren't insane.
They start out with the announcement of the Quarter Quell. As a reminder to the rebels, that without sustainable and balanced population, we cannot survive. The tributes drawn will be male exclusively. Then the reapings. I don't watch Matty's. But I do notice how the pay attention to my mental instability from the very beginning. The chariot ride with my season leaves suit, training scores and interviews. The audience laughs at mine because it was so pitiful. I make sure to wave it off good-naturedly to let them know I'm not hurt by it. The first half hour or so is horrible because you can tell I'm not the choice of the Capitol, it was Kaleb or Draco. It's also even more horrible because almost everyone on the screen is dead and there's a light, dramatic soundtrack in the background. Then the Quarter Quell begins and a second-to-second immensely detailed coverage of the bloodbath is flashed before me. The blizzard. The change between the Winter and Paradise arena's. Matty becoming a paraplegic. The mutts. Raiding the careers.
They play Matty's death in full. Starting from us having fun in the water, the decapitation, my cutting my wrist. I can't look away; I know I should look away and silently cry; or even breakdown. But I can't. I can't look away; my eyes are glued to the screen and tears roll down my face.
Matty. Matty. Matty. I'm sorry I couldn't save you. Matty.
I notice that they omit most of my cutting my wrist. Right, because they can't have a broken Victor. But they do. Instinctively, my right hand goes to feel the lumps on my wrist but instead I feel my satin-like skin. I watch my Games as if I were a Capitol citizen now, glued to the screen. Watching the best entertainment present to the whole world. The death of Havoc sends the crowd in emotional waves and the feast of the river seems to be the audience's favourite part yet. It's then when I look away, because I see myself on screen. I see how I've changed. I look like a scarecrow. My eyes wild, hair in a tangled mat, body so thin and frail; I look like if someone were to push me over, I would keel over and die. But something about my insanity gives me a certain strength.
Maybe it was here when the Capitol began vouching for me, because I'm showing my true colours. It's no surprise to the tributes when it changes to the Desert arena, it's almost expected. There's me killing Skylar, then the fire of the White Woods and the last day where Mars and Kaleb were killed and it flooded. They play each of the battle scenes with no edits. Mars dies and even I can't help but smile at, the audience can't help but cheer either. I wait for Matty to show and talk to me but he doesn't. All that is shown is my staring into the thunder and rain while I speak to no one. Finally Kaleb wakes up and I see how merciless I am when I drown him under the water; my name flashes onto the screen along with the number of Hunger Games and Quarter, and it's over.
The anthem booms in my ears and the lights flick on. The time has come for my crowning of Victor of the 325th Hunger Games. President Magnus walks onto stage with a little boy trailing behind him. Magnus flicks his long brown curls behind his face and picks the crown from the cushion that the little child holds. It's a silver intricate thing, frail and delicately designed, encrusted with sapphires and flecks of gold. Each crown is different, made for each victor. Magnus gently forces the crown into my head and all I can do is look into his cold brown eyes. Knowledgeable and unforgiving. President Magnus shakes my hand and I can feel him press a note into my hand. The handshake goes longer than necessary and I know I'm not to open it until I'm alone. This is between the president and I, only.
"Congratulations on winning Mr. Hostage," he says coolly.
I watch as he leaves the stage, and I know I'll be seeing him and his trimmed beard soon enough.
I'm whisked away into a private car where I head to the Presidents mansion for the Victory Banquet, a place where I'll meet faceless people who claim to be the sole reason why I won. Government officials and very generous sponsors; the people who have the money to attend this party are over-zealous about finally meeting me in person. I don't have anytime to eat anything on the table that's laid out before me that has every possible dish that the Capitol has to offer because every second I have is spent with taking photos, having photos taken, smiling with important people, tiny interviews, and of course, more smiling. Faces flash by for hours and the colours that the Capitolites wear begin to wear on my sanity. I'm scared I'm going to break down, but finally there's a slow in my sudden popularity and I have a chance to settle my growling stomach. But while I'm stuffing my face, I think of Kaleb and how I was so unmerciful and I feel sick. So I eat more, eating everything I can and purposely over doing it on the richest of stuff; binge eating and I know what follows next.
Soon, my eyes find the closest bathroom and I force myself to vomit it back up. I failed Matty and I vomit again, I must deplete my stomach of its contents because how can I eat when District 12 will starve because it doesn't have a victor this year, how can I eat when the other districts will mourn its fallen tributes. In a matter of minutes I'm rinsing my mouth and facing the crowd again, drinking strongly flavoured carbonated waters to mask the smell of sick. In the sea of faces and food, I see President Magnus stare at me. It's terrifying and I look away to focus on the rush of people. I don't regret puking again, it ebbs my guilt away. My guilt of being so focused of revenge. I thought it would be sweet to win and defy the odds of another career victor but I find it not always so. The revenge I took tastes bitter.
When I crawl back on the seventh floor of the Tribute Centre, the sun is just peeking above the horizon and I'm told from Arwen to find some sleep. I don't argue with her, just strip nude and climb into the calming covers of my bed. It only feels about ten minutes later when my escort Veronia is rapping her knuckles on my door telling me to be up for my interview.
I have five minutes to eat a pitiful breakfast of hot grain with milk and honey before my prep team arrives. I'm glad they're so talkative because I don't feel like in a talking mood, but that will have to change in a few hours. They only have time to wash me, strip me of any unattractive hair and complete my make up before Tain arrives and puts me in a daring dark forest green blazer with black pants and white shirt. I quickly say goodbye to my prep team and they whip out of the room. I feel that ever since I woke up in the hospital that my life has been on fast play. I haven't had a moment to myself. It's all been interviews, prep team and cameras; I secretly wait for the time when I can finally be alone to myself. Tain personally adjusts my hair and makeup and I'm then whisked to the living room where the interview will take place.
A space has been cleared and the ornate chair delivered, banners that hold my name and the Quarter Quell drape beside it. Corvin Flickerman gives me a quick hug before we sit down.
"Oh, congratulations Winter! How are you?" He says warmly with a smile.
I shrug. "As fine as I could be. Nervous though."
Corvin beams at me. "You'll be fine. Just answer the questions and that's it. Remember, it only goes for thirty minutes."
I smile, but distractedly. "Oh yes." I say without knowing what he said.
Tain returns with my crown and places it expertly on my head. The victor must be crowned for the interview. Someone counts backwards from ten and suddenly I'm being broadcast live to the country.
"Oh good morning Panem!" Corvin begins. "A most very welcome to the Post-Games interview of Winter Hostage..."
But I zone out, until I hear a question I won't listen. I don't want to be here. Corvin is wonderful and teasing and charming as he always is and actually makes me feel at peace as the opening goes on. We make idle chit-chat about the Games, how I'm doing and how I'm celebrating my victory. We talk about wounds and certain events like the fire and what it was like waking up to a new arena every five days. And then he's asking about Matty and my whole world stops.
"...he was more than an ally to you wasn't he?" Corvin asks sympathetically.
I blink while his question sinks in and I struggle finding the words. "Matty, wasn't an ally. He was my friend. Is my friend" I get out, but then someone shoves a screen behind Corvin and I read the words that rise up. They feel like Arwen's words as I say them.
"...what a terrible blow it must be for you. I'm sure, that I can speak for all of Panem that we all feel how much you loved Matty."
I only nod and then we're back to the arena discussing tactics and what it was to be in the presence of Mars Aemillianus. And how it was to suddenly realise that, I had a chance of winning. It was amusing, I say to Corvin and then he asks about the prophecy.
"You made such an accurate speech there in your moment of insanity, do you think it meant anything?"
I smile first, to say that I don't mean anything by it. "I don't think it means much. Half the stuff I said had already proceeded and I think the Gamemakers just took to what I said. Especially about it flooding on the last day." But I know what he means and I directly avoid answering his question.
"Oh, if that's all it is then. Well Winter, I have two more questions for you before we sign off. They're about the final minutes of the Hunger Games. What were you doing when you sat next to Kaleb Tides when he was unconscious in the water and why did you want him to wake up when you killed him?"
I can feel it. The tension in the air. It's the moment where I decide if it was insanity or an act of rebellion. I'm sure that each tribute feels this. I could lie, and make something up. But nothing seems more powerful than what actually happened. "I was hallucinating. I had a vision that Matty came to me and he spoke to me. He told me that I needed to live for him and that I should know that when I kill Kaleb, I was also killing his girlfriend Delilah who were so devoted to each other. Then, when I had killed Kaleb, I realised that Matty wanted me to live for him, not to win. And that's why I wanted Kaleb to wake up. I feel guilty for not honouring Matty's wishes." The air is quiet, even the people in the room are listening in. "I know, me acting as if Matty could give me direction. But that's what happened. For me anyway,"
Corvin makes a quick remark about Matty and I that completes our friendship and then he signs off. The Games are officially over.
I say goodbye to Tain and my prep team before I'm shipped off to the train station. Arwen wraps an arm around my waist and I cry on her shoulder when the train disappears from the Capitol's watchful eyes. I cry on her shoulder and let out all the emotion I didn't while in the Capitol. Arwen, who I feel disconnected to is the one person I can rely on to talk to. I'm a victor now, and I can only think of how I failed Matty. I cry and cry and cry. Matty. Matty. Matty. Matty.
Victor. Magnus. Note.
Ive decided to make Winter seem to be "normal" whenever the Capitol is involved because of the responsibility he feels. But ill change that when he's alone as a victor. I'll do a quick time jump from here to a month later for next chapter. Please review! It really helps me!
~CJ