AUTHOR'S NOTES: I know that I said I was done for reals with chapter 48, but being a sucker for character development the way I am, I felt that this was a nice little addition and a reminder of the losses that victors suffer. I feel like the ending in particular was a nice way to wrap things back up, but maybe that's just me. Kudos to anyone still with me so far, and by all means, let me know what you thought of this chapter or the story.
Happy Reading!
CHAPTER 49: Healing Scars
Some wounds simply never healed—it was a brutal truth that many Hunger Games victors knew by heart. The pain might ebb away over time, but often times even the scars still hurt when they were touched, almost as if the wound has not ever fully closed.
Naisha Togisala knew these wounds well—she had lost her husband shortly before her 2nd child was born, and then had lost her son to these Hunger Games the previous year. While her daughter had emerged as a victor, she was well-aware that little Ava was not the same. It broke her heart on those nights when Ava would sit bolt upright, emitting bloodcurdling screams as she was met with flashbacks of the many times in those two short weeks that she was nearly killed.
A dead man called out for his love to flee…
Ava found comfort in the 'Lullaby of the Hanging Tree' for whatever odd reasons she did, but that particularly line was another grim reminder of how much she missed Wesley. They obviously weren't lovers, but the love the two siblings had shared had been genuine to its core. Wesley's last warnings to Aveline had been along those very lines—flee; flee from the bloodthirsty career tributes. Flee from Iris Durango, the vicious girl that had slain him. Flee from Chel Colorado—the girl whose betrayal of the other careers had them on the hunt for both of them throughout the games.
Despite the nightmares and horrors though, Ava was able to live somewhat normally when she wasn't panicked or anything. This particular day was one that Ava knew would break her heart, and so when it arrived,, she was unsurprised to find herself saddened. There were no nightmares; no horrific flashbacks; nothing at all—just a feeling of empty loneliness as she thought about what had happened.
"He would have been 18 today, mom." Ava sighed as she threw a light coat over her shoulders. It and the fact that she was wearing shoes meant she was going out—although her clothes seemed a bit nicer than usual, and Ava's hair seemed slightly less wild.
"It was always easy to remember with you two," Naisha sighed, "your birthdays were exactly 4 months apart—yours in the winter, and his in the spring."
"Did you want to come with me then?" she offered, "To Wesley's grave, I mean."
Every district had a little area set apart as a memorial to fallen tributes. Sometimes the bodies were sent back in caskets—other times they were just markers because there were always those horrifying times when there was nothing left of them to collect. Wes had been rather mangled after Iris had finished with him, but not to the point where they had to pick him up in pieces or anything.
"I… I feel like I should." Naisha sighed, "I haven't been able to for such a long time, but Wesley deserves that peace. If nothing else, he deserves it on his special day…"
It was unsurprisingly that both mother and daughter had watery eyes on the short trip past the Victor Village and the District Square off into the Memorial Division. The walk there was somewhat uneventful. They only passed a single Peacekeeper who didn't even turn his head their way (access to this area was not forbidden; in fact it was maintained by the district citizens—usually those who had lost loved ones to the Hunger Games), and then briefly detoured to a meadow to bring some flowers to the grave.
It was a grim little place, heralded to the Districts as a reminder of the Capitol's brutality and the sadism of the Hunger Games themselves. It was here, some said, that rebellion brewed. Evidence of any rebellion was scant, if even extant at all, but anyone who had suffered a loss in these games knew what it was like. Ava's eyes darted around the area until they came to a small marker with the simple inscription: "Wesley Togisala, 91st Hunger Games".
"180…" Ava sighed, "there are 180 of these markers here."
"That's 180 too many," Naisha shook her head, kneeling as she placed the flowers at the foot of the small stone, "and it doesn't help that my little boy is one of them!"
"2 new markers pop up every year," Ava crouched down, placing her own flowers next to Naisha's, "every year except 25, 50, 75, 84, and 91. Those saw only 1 addition—50 got to see 3. It's just mathematics after that…"
Mother and daughter knelt in somber silence for nearly half an hour, images and memories of Wesley Togisala flashing through their heads. Tears were shed, words were exchanged, and an overall melancholic feeling lingered over the place for obvious reasons.
After pulling back from another hug with Ava in her arms, Naisha sighed. "I should probably be getting back now. Be safe, Ava—I don't know what I would do if I lost you too. You're my world now…"
"Stay alive, mom;" Ava sighed, "you're the world to me at this point. It's hard enough that I never knew father… but now with Wes gone…" she sighed and trailed off, giving her mother one last hug. The two of them wordlessly nodded to each other before Naisha headed home. Ava knelt back down and stared longer and more intently at Wes' grave.
"It's been a long day without you, brother…" she sighed, "we've come a long way since we began… and I guess I'll have to tell you about it when we meet again. I'm sorry, Wesley. I should have been able to protect you, the way you tried to protect me…"
It was another hour before Aveline moved from that spot, where she gazed at Wes' grave, or up at the sky or to the trees and other markers around her. Tears flowed down her cheeks again as she remembered everything they had ever done together: the times they had scampered through the woods playing hide-and-seek, or the time he had helped bandage up Ava's arm after a particularly nasty fall on a rock. She remembered the times he'd help her with her classwork back when they had gone to school together. Being two years her senior meant he knew a lot of the stuff Ava was being taught, and he was always there to help. That had always been who Wesley was as a person. Aveline had meant the world to him, and almost everything he had done—especially after they had been reaped together—had been to try and keep her safe.
Ava sobbed into her hands as she dwelt on his life and untimely death more and more. It was probably unhealthy to let herself get so regularly dragged down and bogged down by these thoughts, but sometimes, it was a way to find peace, especially in a place so morbidly serene.
Aveline only moved at all to turn her head towards a voice calling her name. To her slight surprise, it was Vigo. Ava turned away, for some reason not wanting to show him that she had been crying. Maybe it was because of the affection she harbored for the victor who was only 6 years her senior, or maybe it was simply her trying to appear strong.
"Vigo?" Ava tilted her head, still kneeling on the ground. "You didn't come here because of me, did you?" She hoped not. Not that Vigo was creepy to her or anything, but she didn't want to drag him down just because she was in a low mood.
"Part of me did," Vigo admitted, "but it was more your mother giving me the idea to pay an old friend of mine a visit."
Vigo stepped past Ava towards a slightly older marker. Ava got up and followed him before reading the inscription, which unsurprisingly came from the 84th Hunger Games.
"Valerie Lyautey?" Ava tilted her head.
"I told you that the girl from'2 knifed her near the end of my games, didn't I?" Vigo nodded, "that was her name. We weren't in any kind of romantic relationship or anything, but we were definitely friends—a lot like you and Chel, actually."
"I've got a memorial to her in my backyard," Ava explained, "I can't exactly build a memorial to a District 2 girl here without things getting awkward, can I?"
Vigo cracked a chuckle. "Always the little pragmatist, aren't you?" he ruffled her hair.
"Vigo…" Ava whined, "I actually brushed it today…"
"I like you better when it's messy," he quipped, "and it made you smile, even."
"It's an ironic place for anyone to smile, don't you think?" Ava motioned her hands all around them, indicating the symbols and stones that all indicated one fallen tribute or another.
"Perhaps," Vigo shrugged, "but think of it this way, Ava—we can dwell on the deaths of these people and let it sour our moods as we are reminded of the grave injustices that were wrought upon them… or we can think back and cherish what they were able to accomplish in their lives. Remember Chel, Ava. She was the one who first said that—I'm merely repeating her words."
Ava smiled, thinking back to the battleaxe resting in the corner of her room and the small wooden marker that Ava had planted in the backyard with Chel Colorado's name carved into it, "it's true, you know…" she agreed, "but come on, Vigo—surely you understand how much it still hurts."
"I wouldn't dream of thinking otherwise." Vigo agreed, "it's good to remember them, for better or for worse, otherwise history's just going to repeat itself."
"Still…" Ava frowned, "do you ever think back at old memories and wish you could change the past?"
"All the time," Vigo sighed, "Just because someone doesn't have visible scars doesn't mean they're not in a battle of their own.
"You never really stop loving someone," Ava sighed, "you just kind of learn how to live without them."
"Someday it'll end." Vigo sighed, "In the meantime though, we just have to keep on living."
"I'd lay my life down to ensure that others wouldn't ever have to again," Ava declared, "maybe they're right about this place, Vigo. Maybe this really is where rebellion is born…"
She threw her arms around Vigo, who did the same in response, holding Ava close.
"And this is why I love you Ava," he chuckled lightly, running a hand through her hair, "you've always got the right words at the right times."
"Really?" Ava looked up at him, "you love me?"
"we've been over this a few times, but yes." Vigo confessed. "I do, Ava." Gently placing his fingers beneath her chin, Vigo's lips met Ava's in a soft and intimate touch. Brief as it was, Ava smiled when they pulled back a couple moments later.
"You always kind of were my childhood hero" Ava was blushing. "I never would have thought that I'd have my first kiss with you of all people."
"Did you like it?" he asked her, his eyes still focused on her own.
"I did," Ava nodded, "thank you, Vigo."
And perhaps as if to make it more meaningful, his next hiss went to Ava's forehead instead. Ava closed her eyes, sighing softly from the simple yet comforting gesture. It seemed that Vigo was right. There was solace and relief to be found thinking the way he suggested. Life would go on, and for now so would the Hunger Games, but perhaps what mattered the most was that while the games had been a vicious and trying experience for her, Aveline Lelani Togisala was not broken—nor would she allow herself to be.
