Sorry this is late! I drove back to my apartment yesterday from my parent's house to find that the heating and hot water were broken so I had to deal with that. They weren't able to fix it until this morning (about 20 minutes ago) so fingers crossed it starts warming up in here! Currently it's only 53 degrees (Fahrenheit) and snowing outside so it's been fun over here.
"Do not go gentle into that good night. Rage, rage against the dying of the light"
~Dylan Thomas, Do Not Go Gentle Into That Good Night
Jillian is killed at the cornucopia. She's stabbed through the stomach by the girl from 2 in an attempt to grab a bundle food. She doesn't die immediately, which is worse. She falls to the grass, her hands clutching her abdomen as blood pumps through her fingers. Tears roll down her face and as her breathing becomes hitched, she calls out for her mother. I stay and watch the whole thing, until the final beat of her heart. Even then, I stay watching until her body is taken away and the screen flickers to black.
I lean back in my chair, tilting my face up towards the ceiling. She was sweet, brave. She would have gone somewhere. I grimace when I remember thinking the same about Milena. Maybe I'll think that about everyone.
It might be midday but I find myself turning longingly towards the circular counter in the center of the room. Briefly I consider just getting myself coffee but, at the last second, I fill a glass with liquor. I'm not the first or only to be drinking in the room. Nothing wrong with a little numbing, is there?
Turning back towards my station, where Derek is sitting with his eyes half closed in exhaustion, I turn my attention momentarily to the side, where the Career stations are clustered. None of them seem particularly concerned by the events, and other than quiet murmurings, they're the only ones talking.
As I pass by, Enobaria, who's sitting at the edge of the group, looks up at me. Her eyes are like dark, bottomless pits, full of fury and hatred. I don't back down, staring back with full force. Her tribute just killed my own, that's reason enough for anger.
"Smile, sweetheart, it looks better on you" I purr, knowing full well it'll only piss her off.
She glares at me, her arms crossed tightly over her stomach. "A little early to start drinking, no?" is all she responds with.
"Not early enough, I'd say" I say with a smile. I'm vaguely aware of one of the older Victors from 2 looking at me, still a pile of meat even past fifty years old. "Want a glass?" I ask sweetly, seeing her eyes narrow.
"Drink with you?" she scoffs. "I'd rather burn in hell."
I raise my eyebrows, taking a tentative sip of what I determine to be whiskey. "I can make that happen" I say with a wink, raising my glass towards her "cheers." I walk away despite her eyes boring holes into the back of my skull.
Ivan, for the moment, is still alive. He had the sense to run from the cornucopia and hide in some dry bushes until the survivors dispersed. He won't make it much longer though. Already he's dehydrated and there's very little water in this arena. There's no way he could survive a confrontation with any remaining tributes.
I stay sitting and watching and occasionally drinking. I don't get drunk, I make sure not too, but I drink enough to take the edge off.
It's long past midnight but I'm still awake, watching and waiting. My head is propped in my hand and my eyes burn with exhaustion but I refuse to sleep. I might not be like Derek, I might not be able to show them affection or harbor their hope, but I will not let them die alone. They don't even know I'm here, and I know it makes no difference, but I can't leave them. Not even for a second.
I let my eyes flutter close for a moment, but instead of relief I see Jillian's face looking up at me, full of horror and panic. When I brought her up to the hovercraft I told her it would all be okay. I told her she wouldn't be alone. I wouldn't lie to her and tell her she might live, because she wouldn't, but I told her that it wasn't her fault. If I couldn't help her then I was going to at least let my last words be comforting ones.
The words ring in my ears for days as her image burns against my eyelids. I push my way from the table, choosing to at least go take a shower and watch the Games in my room. But I barely make I out the door when a woman with sea green hair cuts me off. I try to push past her but she jumps in my way, gloved hand grabbing my arm.
I wrench myself free so aggressively that she stumbles forward. "Who the hell do you think you are?" I hiss, turning to face her.
She asks me some ridiculous question about Jillian. About her death. I stare at her dumbfounded, noticing the small camera in her hand. Reporter. "Are you kidding me?" I ask, hands clenched into fists. "You don't touch me. You don't talk to me. Go bother someone else who gives a damn."
"But-" the woman begins to protest but I wave my hand, cutting her off.
"Say one more thing and I'll take that fucking camera and shove it down your throat, understand?"
The woman's eyes double in size and, when I keep staring, she nods. Sneering I turn on my heel and stalk to the elevator.
It takes two more days before Ivan dies. He's too dehydrated and lies slumped against a tree when the girl from 11 finds him. He stares up at the branches, seeming to know exactly where the cameras lie. I'm able to look directly into his eyes and see the fear in them.
I watch silently as the fear flickers away and leaves an emptiness. The girl kills him, but within the hour is killed herself by the Careers.
And so I'm done. My tributes are dead and the Games are over for District 7. I get up, stretching my arms over my head before throwing them down in a huff. Finnick peers at me, nodding with quiet understanding.
"Well, that's it for me" I mutter, stepping over to stand beside him. I glance down at his screen, where his tribute is walking slowly through the arena.
"You good?" Finnick asks, spinning in his chair.
"Brilliant" I say with a scoff and an eye roll. Already I can feel the tightening in my chest and I know that tonight the dreams will be horrendous. But I won't show that now. Not here.
"You're not doing too bad" I comment, nodding at his screens. He's district 4. When it comes down to it, they're very competitive. Not quite on the level of 1 and 2, but close.
"Sure" he nods. "Won't last long though," he taps that image of the boy from 1. "Too aggressive. Beat that kid's head in with a rock. Even though he had a knife."
I press my lips together and glance away. "Well, good luck" I say quietly. I don't have to mention that I've done the same, although I had no other weapon to make my kill. It's definitely violent, and a horrid way to die.
I let out a long sigh before looking back at him. "I'm not hanging out here. Probably going to pass out if I don't get some sleep soon."
Finnick nods once. "I'll see you, then."
"Yup. You know where to find me." He'll likely be here until his tributes are dead. I won't watch the rest of the Games, but he'll come when he's done.
"Sweet dreams" he calls after me, humor on his face.
I roll my eyes, sneering with a small smile before turning and stalking out of the room.
I ride the elevator back up to my floor but as soon as I step free from the metal doors, I'm halted. I don't know where to go, or what to do. It's so silent and empty. As silent as death. Not even an avox is in sight. I sway in place, my breath feeling harder to catch.
I sigh and walk slowly past the living room and dining room, down the long hall where our bedrooms lie. I don't go through any of the doors, but stop at the end of the hall, where a window spans the wall. My necklace rolls between my fingers as I stare down onto the street. There's a numb throbbing in my head as I watch people walk across the sidewalk and cars race past. It feels as if my brain is a scab, and I can't stop picking at it.
My fingers hold tightly to the two small charms around my neck. The lights below blur and distort, leaving only echoes of cars and people as they race through the colorful city. It looks like a dream but it feels so real.