OFFICIAL TRIGGER WARNING: SUICIDE (If you want a summary of the chapter, feel free to PM me – I would be happy to give you the main details. I totally get if you would prefer to skip this chapter. Take care of yourself.)

Song: Je te laisserai dets mots by Patrick Watson

District Seven, Victor's Village – Day 7 of the Games: Cypress Li

Cypress twisted his watch around and around his wrist, watching as the little clock face spun. The meeting was tonight. He had successfully convinced Mu to lend them the large upstairs room of the pub, and though it had cost him, it was worth it.

He, Myrtle and Eurydice would speak – the three of them were somewhat well known in their district, Cypress especially of course, and the people needed someone who had been directly affected by the Games. They needed someone who knew the horrors of the arena. Cypress, who had been there before. Myrtle, who woke him from his nightmares each night. And Eurydice, who watched her grandmother get sadder each year she failed to save her tributes.

"Stop that," Myrtle said, tugging on his arm.

"What?" he asked absently, staring at the flickering streetlight.

"You're doing the watch thing again."

"Oh."

"You'll break it."

"Oh," he said again, not really hearing her.

"What are you anxious about?"

"Hm?" he asked, finally realising he was being spoken to.

Myrtle huffed and pretended to be annoyed, but Cypress knew that she wasn't, not really. It wasn't in her nature. "I said, what are you anxious about?"

"Oh. Um. The meeting. Also, Eurydice's late." Cypress didn't like it when people were late. He liked routines, and didn't understand why people couldn't just follow them.

"She'll be here soon," Myrtle said.

"I know," he said. "But. She's late."

"Cy, you need to chill," Myrtle said, placing a comforting hand on his arm. "It's going to be okay, and Eurydice isn't going to bail."

"What if this was a bad idea?"

Myrtle shook her head. "It isn't. We're doing the right thing."

"Yes, I know that. But is it a bad idea?"

Myrtle sighed. "I don't know."

Cypress didn't say anything.

"Alright, that's it, I'm sick of waiting. Let's go get Eurydice," Myrtle said, breaking the silence, which Cypress was grateful for.

He didn't like silence, it reminded him too much of being in the arena – bad things would happen if there was silence. Mutts would sneak up behind you, with only the snapping of a twig revealing their presence. By then it would be too late – they would lunge, and you would be caught off guard, unprepared for their attack… Cypress tried not to shudder.

"Thanks," he said.

"Don't thank me, just walk," she said, grabbing his sleeve and leading him away from the house.

He stopped, and held up a hand. "Wait. I don't think I turned the oven off."

"You did. I watched you."

Cypress shook his head. He needed to check – he itched to check. What if they came home to smouldering ruins? What if the fire spread, and set the whole district alight? It would be better if he could just check. "What if I just thought it was off, but it isn't actually? What if-"

"Cy, it's off, let's go," Myrtle said impatiently.

"I just want to go check. Just once."

"No, you want to check it a hundred times, not once. And then you'll check it once more, for good measure. We don't have the time, Cypress, come on," Myrtle said firmly.

"Okay," he said, giving up. His hands were shaking – he shoved them deep into his pockets.

"Eurydice!" she called, knocking on the door. There was the sound of footsteps from behind it, and a click as the lock turned. Eurydice greeted them with a small wave, the dark bags under her bloodshot eyes suggesting she hadn't slept for the entirety of the Games. Cypress wasn't surprised – he knew how much she loved Johanna. If he had a girlfriend in the Games, he knew he wouldn't have slept either. Not that he had ever managed to land himself a girlfriend.

"You ready?" Myrtle asked her, smiling.

"Yes. Sorry. I-" Eurydice her lip, and dropped her eyes to the floor. "Jo just got attacked by a bear."

"Oh, shit," Myrtle gasped, covering her mouth with her hand. "Is… she's okay, right?"

"She's alive. She's injured, though. Weren't you watching?" Eurydice asked them curiously.

Cypress shook his head. "No, we were eating dinner." There was also the fact that Cypress almost never watched the Games, it took him back to his time in the arena, and he couldn't handle it. He and Myrtle had been switching it on from time to time to keep tabs on Johanna, but there was really no reason for him to watch – he wasn't a mentor, after all.

"Oh. Well, I'm sure she'll be fine," Eurydice said, trying to act calm. She wasn't fooling anybody. "She took the girl from Nine's medicine."

"I'm sure that'll sort her out," Cypress said soothingly. "Calendula knows her stuff." He had met Calendula on his Victory tour – she had been lovely, and struck him as very smart. He hadn't met her since, having never mentored, but Magnolia and the other Victors all held her in high regard.

"Calendula?" Eurydice said quizzically.

"One of Nine's Victors," Cypress told her.

"Oh. Right. Okay, let me just put some shoes on," Eurydice said, stepping out of the doorway. "Come in, come in."

She turned and ran up the stairs, and Cypress and Myrtle stood awkwardly in the foyer. They'd been in Eurydice's house before, when they'd first moved into the Victor's Village. But Sylvia, Eurydice's mother, wasn't a big fan of either of them. Cypress wasn't entirely sure why, but he wasn't sure he cared to find out.

Eurydice came thundering back down the stairs. "Mama, I'm going out with Cypress and Myrtle."

Sylvia came out of the living room, a book in her hand. "Eurydice, I'm not sure I want you going out at this hour." She eyed Cypress and Myrtle distastefully, and Cypress gave her what he hoped was a reassuring smile.

Myrtle adopted a grin similar to Cypress's. "We'll take good care of her, Ms Babineaux, we just want her to get some fresh air."

"I suppose fresh air would do her some good, she's been cooped up in that room of hers ever since the start of the Games. Mind you get her home before it's dark."

"Will do, Ms Babineaux," Myrtle said pleasantly, taking Eurydice's arm. Both of them knew full well that they would not be back before dark. "You take care, now."

"Bye, Mama, see you later," Eurydice said, kissing her mother on the cheek. "Won't be long, I pinky promise."

Sylvia didn't notice that Eurydice had crossed her fingers behind her back.

0o0o

Mu greeted them at the door with a scowl. "You're a bit early."

"We just want to make sure everything's ready. Here's the rest of your money, by the way," Cypress said, handing him 50 aurei.

"Ah, about the money," Mu said, his eyes gleaming. "I'm going to need a bit more than I originally asked for."

"Of course you do, you wily fox," Eurydice said, rolling her eyes. "Cypress'll give you more after the meeting. Won't you, Cypress?"

"Yes, Mu," Cypress said, looking at the bartender with what he hoped passed as a scowl. "After the meeting, provided everything goes well."

"Fine," Mu said with a glare, waving them inside. "Get inside before you attract the Peacekeepers."

Cypress didn't make a habit of going to pubs, but everyone over the age of sixteen had been to Mu's at least once, even if they didn't have the money for drinks. It was one of the only places in the District where townsfolk and forest-dwellers alike could converge, a safe space for all. Even if the beer tasted like piss, according to Myrtle, it was worth it for the communal feel of the place. Even Cypress, who wasn't a fan of crowds or noise or alcohol or even Mu, had to agree with this.

That was why they had picked it for the meeting. Everyone knew Mu's, and even though many people tended to watch the Games at home, it wasn't uncommon for the pub to remain open for those who wished to watch somewhere warmer and cleaner that the Town Square, somewhere less lonely than their homes. They had been planning to close the pub for the night, but decided that would be suspicious – at least if it was open, they could sneak those attending the meeting upstairs without attracting suspicion. Most of the people downstairs would be too drunk to notice, anyway.

"Now, you'll want to go up the stairs, down the hall," Mu said, directing them to the stairs. "The meeting room is two doors to the right. I'd show you but I need to stay down here."

"Thanks again, Mu, this is really helpful. People will be coming in through the front as per usual – the meeting-goers will be wearing a leaf in their hair or button-holes. If you could point them in the right direction, that would be very helpful," Cypress said.

"For 50 more aurei, I suppose I could do that."

"Deal," Cypress said, sticking his hand out for Mu to shake. "You'll get it after the meeting. Come on, girls, let's go get ready."

"Is Dom coming?" Eurydice asked.

Myrtle shook her head, and answered for him. "No. Too dangerous."

"You're probably right."

Entering the room, the three of them stopped for a moment, looking around at the place. There were five tables crammed into the relatively small space, with even more chairs clogging the room. They would struggle to fit everyone into the room, but at least everyone would be able to see them.

"We don't need to do much, do we?" Myrtle asked, looking around.

"With the room?" asked Eurydice.

"Yeah."

"I don't think so," Cypress said. "I mean, we're only talking about our cause, we're not organising anything yet."

"What if someone rats us out?" Eurydice asked, chewing on a lock of blonde hair.

"They won't," Cypress said with as much confidence he could muster.

Eurydice pushed a chair into a table so they could make their way up to the front of the room, away from the door. "But how do you know?"

Cypress gave her a small smile. "We're paying them to keep their mouths shut."

"How much?"

"Twenty denarii per head," Myrtle said with a grin.

"Mu gets more?" Eurydice asked.

"Damn right he does!" Mu shouted from the hallway.

"Very funny, Mu," said Cypress, rolling his eyes. "Yes, of course he gets more."

"But –"

"Eurydice," Myrtle said, placing a comforting hand on Eurydice's arm. "It's all sorted out. Stop worrying."

"Okay."

"You're as bad as Cypress!" Myrtle said, laughing when she caught sight of the scowl on Cypress's face.

0o0o

The room filled up quickly, and the chairs were all soon occupied. People were forced to cluster around the walls, sit on the floor, and it had been a big effort to get the door closed.

"Settle down, please!" Cypress yelled, and the room bubbled down in volume. "Thank you all for coming."

"If you received an invitation, you should know that we have trusted you enough to invite you here tonight," Myrtle said. "We request your secrecy and subtlety."

"A mole would certainly result in the deaths of everyone in this room."

"So keep it zipped. Please," Eurydice added.

"We're here because we think that things should change," Cypress said, not quite sure where to begin.

"Change how?" someone in the back asked loudly.

"We want nation-wide changes. We want poverty eradicated. We want harmony between the districts." Cypress hoped he was sounding inspiring. They had gone over their speech what seemed like hundreds of times, but Cypress found himself improvising a little.

"We want the Capitol to go down," said Myrtle.

"We want the Games to end," said Eurydice.

There was immense cheering at that. The three of them grinned at each other – they had been worried that their words wouldn't elicit a response.

"This won't happen immediately. We're an underground group, and things are changing slowly. But they are changing. We want you to help us – things like sabotage. Murders. Smuggling. We can't change things alone, which is why we're working with other districts – Three, Four, Six, Eight and Twelve, primarily." Cypress and Myrtle had decided earlier to leave Thirteen out of the speech – it was still too early to break the news. Eurydice didn't even know about it yet. "We have been oppressed for too long," Cypress continued. "We've been forced to kill each other for seventy-one years. We have lost children – we have lost innocents. But we won't forget!"

"We won't forget!"

"Say their names!" Cypress yelled.

"Elm," a woman near the front close-to whispered. She looked haggard, her hair limp and her eyes full of tears. Cypress recognised her as Elmer's mother, the one who had cried so at the Reaping.

"Cody, Chloe, Laurel!"

"Aranyani!"

"Alder!" Cypress looked up – Alder was the name of Tamora's brother. Surely she wasn't at the meeting? He searched the room, and found, not Tamora, but a man he recognised as Tamora's father. He gave Cypress a nod.

"They want us to forget what they've done to us. They want us to stay under their thumbs for the rest of them. But we won't let them! We won't forget!" Myrtle yelled. Eurydice punched the air.

"We won't forget!" everyone chorused.

"We need you to remember. We need you to be patient – but stay angry. Stay hopeful," Cypress told them, looking from Elm's mother to Tamora – and Alder's – father. "It's anger and hope that will get us through this – anger for our past, and hope for our future. "

"Change is coming, and it's coming soon. We need you to help us," said Eurydice.

"Will you help us?"

"Yes!"

Cypress noticed someone sneaking out the back, and he suddenly felt very sick. He couldn't explain what came over him, but he turned to his twin and whispered in her ear. "We need to go now. We need to end this."

"What do you mean?"

"Myrtle. Something's going to happen."

"We won't forget!" Eurydice shouted, eliciting another cheer from the crowd.

"That's right!" Myrtle said, waving her arms to cut off the cheers. Cypress was glad that she had listened to him. "We will remember. Now, leave. Spread the message. Bide your time, but be ready, because when change comes, it will work quickly. Remember that all the only thing needed to start a forest fire is a spark – and when that spark ignites, everything will burn."

There was a thundering applause – an applause that concealed the footsteps of the Peacekeepers heading up the stairs.

"Leave!" Cypress shouted, as the first of the Peacekeepers came through the door.

A gunshot rung through the air, and for a moment there was silence. And then, a mad scramble to the doors.

The Peacekeepers burst into the room, their guns raised. The crowd screamed, and did the only thing they could – fought back.

"Myrtle, Eurydice, get down!" he shouted, grabbing his sister and pulling her down to the floor. Eurydice flung herself onto her stomach and crawled under a table. The bullets put holes in the walls, and Cypress realised with a sinking stomach that they were trapped like rats. Who had been the mole? Mu? He didn't know, and couldn't think about it right now.

The people were swarming, and using whatever they could as weapons – chair legs, their bare hands, butter knives. But their strength was nothing to the Peacekeepers' guns – they dropped like flies. Cypress saw a flash of dark hair, and was glad that Elm's mother had made it outside. The same couldn't be said for Tamora's father.

"Come on!" Cypress shouted. "The window!"

Myrtle, catching on quickly, jumped to her feet and threw a chair through the pane. They were only on the second story, but it was a long drop – they would have to risk it. They had no chance at all if they stayed. People had caught on, and were flinging themselves from the room, abandoning fallen friends and relatives, everyone's humanity disappearing as the panic to survive wracked their minds. Cypress could relate to that. It wasn't only the arena that turned people into animals.

"Eurydice!" Myrtle screamed. "Hurry!"

Eurydice crawled out from under the table and jumped to her feet. She looked at them both, and opened her mouth to say something. She likely didn't even hear the bullet that killed her.

The bullet tore through Eurydice's skull, and Cypress watched as her blood pooled around his feet, staining her silver-blonde hair scarlet. He let out a choked sob, and cradled her head in his arms. Her pale blue eyes were still open, and he closed them for her.

Myrtle grabbed his shoulder and pulled him to his feet. "Come on," she rasped, her voice choked with tears, and together they ran towards the window, leaving their friend behind.

"Stop or we'll shoot!" A Peacekeeper yelled. Cypress couldn't count all the guns that were pointed at their faces – there had to be at least twenty of the horrible things. He wasn't sure if they would shoot him – but they wouldn't hesitate to murder his sister, the same way they had so callously murdered Eurydice. Eurydice, who hadn't hurt anyone. Eurydice, who had tried to run. Eurydice, whose mother was waiting for her to get home. Eurydice, who had only been seventeen.

Myrtle twitched, and Cypress grabbed her by the elbow and pulled her to her knees. He could tell she wanted to keep fighting. "Stop, Myr. Stop," he said, feeling the tears pouring down his face. It was his fault, his fault, all his fault – he should have been more subtle, he should have saved these people. How many had died tonight, because of him?

As their hands were bound tightly with rope and they were led from the room, Cypress didn't stop to count the bullet-ridden bodies. It didn't matter anymore. Rebel and Peacekeeper blood mixed together on the dusty wooden floor, staining their shoes as they walked, seeping into the wood and staining it dark.

Mu lay dead in the hallway. The bar downstairs was empty and silent. None of the Peackeepers spoke, and neither did they.

They were shoved into the Peacekeeper's vehicle, crammed in between two Peacekeepers in the small backseat, away from the doors. Cypress managed to wiggle one of his hands free from the rope that bound his wrists, and took Myrtle's hand behind her back, squeezing it in what he hoped was a comforting way.

They didn't need to wonder where they were being taken – Cypress knew it would probably be to the Barracks, for questioning, and likely torturing. There were no windows in the backseat, and the partition stopped them from being able to see out of the windscreen, but Cypress didn't care. They were only in the car for about ten minutes, and Cypress was surprised – the Barracks were obviously much closer to town than he had thought.

The door on Cypress's side was kicked open, and his confusion grew when he saw the tall houses of the Victor's Village. Weren't they being taken in for questioning, or a whipping, at the very least? He didn't trust the Peacekeepers to let them off without punishment – they had been caught, in an illegally rented room, saying illegal things, and encouraging people to spread their illegal message.

It all made more sense when Cypress was the only one they dragged out of the car. He now realised what their punishments would be. "No!" he yelled, fighting against the three Peacekeepers that were holding him as they dragged him up the stairs of his house.

"Myrtle! Myrtle, no – let go of me! Let her go! Myrtle!" He kicked at the Peackeepers, and tried grabbing a gun with his free hand – they hit him over the head with a baton.

"No! Let me out!" Myrtle shrieked, kicking at the Peacekeepers, thrashing and flailing in their firm grip. "Cypress! Cy-"

The car door slammed closed, effectively shutting off Myrtle's screams of dismay. Seeing stars, Cypress struggled against the Peacekeepers, reaching out for the vehicle that was quickly leaving him behind.

"Myrtle!" Cypress screamed, trying to escape their grip. He had to get to his sister – he had to. They were going to do something terrible to her, he knew that – she would be punished enough for two people, which would in turn punish him. "No – Myrtle! Myrtle! Let go, let go – MYRTLE!"

The Peacekeepers hit him again, and forced him over the threshold of his house, dragging him into the study, which was the one room without windows. Very smart of them, he had to admit. He spat at his captors, and managed to pull off one of their helmets – the woman who had been hiding under it growled at him, her blue eyes menacing. "Stop struggling," she hissed. "It's all over now."

Cypress didn't stop to question what she meant. He didn't care anymore. Wriggling his arm free again, he raked his fingernails down her face, happy when blood spurted from her cheek. With a howl, the woman clapped a hand over her eye – which was one more hand not holding Cypress. He wriggled free, and leapt for the door. He had to get to Myrtle, he had to – what would they do to her?

A firm slap to the face sent Cypress to the ground – he slumped to the floor, defeated. He knew it wasn't worth fighting. There was nothing he could do for his sister now except hope. "Where are they taking her?"

"To the gallows," the blue-eyed Peacekeeper replied.

At first, Cypress didn't recognise that the sound that had escaped his lips was human. It sounded so animal, so alien, an unearthly wail.

There was nothing left for him in the world anymore.

One of the Peacekeepers shoved him to the floor, and the three of them left the room, locking the door behind them. Were they leaving him there to starve? Certainly no-one would come looking for him – Hollis and Tamora would never risk being caught in the Victor's Village without permission – it was a crime punishable by fifteen lashes. Sylvia didn't like him to start with, and would inevitably find out about poor Eurydice's demise - she would be happy to let him rot. Perry didn't care about anything but the rebellion. Myrtle was probably dead already, and if not, she would be soon.

Cypress didn't care, though. He had been dead for a long time. He had been a dead man since the day he was picked to represent District Seven – he had been dead since the moment his name had left Arabella's lips. He was a dead man walking, and it was time for him to leave the Earth. He would not starve. He still knew how to tie knots. He decided he would die as his sister would.

He had killed two people in the arena. The first was the girl from District Two. She hadn't deserved it – she just wanted to go home, just like he did. She had run at him with her sword, intending to plunge it through her stomach – he had managed to get his hands on an axe by then, and sent it flying into her skull.

The second had been the boy from District Four – he had tried to run Cypress through with a harpoon. His death had lasted a lot longer than the girl from Two's had – Cypress had been angry, you see. Angry that he had died. Angry that he hadn't been able to die after a long life at his home. Angry that the Capitol had taken away his parents, leaving him and Myrtle to be raised in the cruelty of the Community Home. Angry that his district partner was a helpless twelve-year old, doomed from the start. Angry that he had no choice but to kill.

The boy from Four had screamed, as Cypress, half-blinded with misplaced anger, had hacked off his arms and legs. He had been barely conscious when Cypress delivered the killing blow. He had been unfortunate, the undeserving recipient of Cypress' anger towards those that had wronged him.

Cypress thought that the boy from Four would be happy to see him now. Cheering him on, even, as he tied what would be his final knot. He was dead anyway – it didn't matter what he did. Myrtle was the only reason he had stuck around, after escaping the arena, and she was almost certainly dead by now. In any case, she wouldn't be returning to their home.

His life was worth nothing now. He was a dead man walking – soon to be walking no longer.

Cypress stepped off the chair.

Sorry. This is dark. Probably the darkest chapter I've written so far. I really struggled to write this, and I apologise if I ruined your day. Poor Cypress, poor Mytle, and of course poor Eurydice. This had to happen eventually, though, and though it's cruel – so is Panem.

I recommend you go give 'Je te laisserai dets mots' a listen – I think it matches this chapter, and kind of reflects Eurydice and Jo's relationship in my opinion. Warning: it is very sad. You have been warned. It's French, but there is an English translation if you want to understand the lyrics. It's actually where I got the name for this chapter – 'Je te laisserai dets mots' means 'I'll leave you words' in English.

I hope this didn't trigger anything for anyone – I'm truly sorry if it did. If you need to talk, feel free to PM me, I'm a good listener. I also advise anyone who is struggling with their mental health to reach out to a trusted person or a helpline – you're not alone in your struggles, and remember that help will always be given to those who ask for it, to quote Albus Dumbledore.

Take care of yourself during these hard times, and of course, have a great day/night.

-Audrey :)