It's our last chapter. This is it, we're here!
Let's check in with Izzy before we bring this story to a close.
I'm saving my long and emotional A/N for the end, so if you don't get around to reading it, I'll thank you now! Thank you for reminding me that I could get this story completed and that I had the drive to bring my ideas to fruition. This story has taught me a lot about taking my time, looking after myself and most importantly, keeping my eyes on finishing the story. :)
Trigger Warning: There are some bullying phrases used throughout this chapter, most notably in Sections 2 and 4, with Section 4 having some abusive language and ableist behaviour (starting from "It's been a month."). If you'd rather I give you a summary, then let me know.
Thank you to BamItsTyler, Remus98, FireflyLlama, Alecxias, contemporarydancer2 and symphorophilia for your lovely reviews!
Isabella "Izzy" Moire, Sixteen, Victor of the 81st Hunger Games
When I open my eyes, no rain falls on my face.
I'm no longer in the arena.
Exhaustion is a real thing, y'know. I could barely keep my eyes open on the way back, a mixture of the fading adrenaline and the draining experience of the last few days taking its toll on me. Frozen to the hovercraft's ladder, the drowsiness washed over me and the next thing I knew I was here. Maybe I could be in a dream or something, or maybe Austin really did take me out and I'm under some kind of twisted illusion here.
Regardless, my body just feels heavy, mostly from sleep and the onset of exhaustion.
It's been a hard few days.
The only thing in this room is me and this bed. A couple of small IV drips stand in a corner, and I wonder if they once belonged to me. Almost as if by command, my body twitches, and a sense of presence erupts through my body. The heaviness is replaced by a slight ache, specifically from my leg and my side, but also my throat and my shoulders. I hum and wince slightly, the note coming out more crackled and hoarse than I thought it would. Of course, Austin's attempt to take me out has its lingering effects.
I hear a dull hiss from across the room and a woman steps in. She's young, maybe early twenties with longish brown hair and a heart-shaped face. I vaguely recognise her but I can't put my finger on it. My main concern is where the hell Nate is and why the hell he decided not to show up.
"Izzy," the woman's voice is gentle and kind but holds broken quality like mine. "My name is Leila, and I'm a mentor from District Three. How are you feeling?"
Her voice soothes me right away, even though I didn't know I needed soothing.
"Kinda heavy, kinda achy but still alive and twitchin'!" I grin widely. "Did Nate miss the bus or what? Thought I'd see him here."
I like to keep it light, especially in situations like this, but Leila's eyes well up with tears and she turns her head away. Almost instantly, whatever I've said was the wrong thing, and to hell, it's always me who's the one to do this, isn't it?
"Oh shit, I'm sorry," I mention, sitting up, ignoring the general ache of my worn muscles and the slight dizziness that comes with it. "You good?"
Leila turns back to face me, her eyes wet. If I look a little closer, they're red-raw, as if she's been sobbing her heart out. Slowly, I put the pieces together. I've seen Leila around with Nate once or twice, so they probably knew each other. He's not here, and she's crying about it so...
"What happened to Nate?" I ask, a hint of nervousness in my voice.
It's rare I'm nervous. I'm usually too busy jumping around for all of that, and I always focus on the good stuff. Nate's my mentor though, so if anything happened to him then I have all the more reason to know. Nate was nice. He really believed in me, and maybe was the only person who ever did in the Capitol. They all wrote me off as some dumb, twitchy kid. Well, sucks to be them! It's time I lived out my freedom in Five fuelled by nightmares.
Funny, but also really not, since nightmares aren't fun. Mallory's had them a few times and all I can think of is her screaming down the hallway and me running to find her. I wouldn't wish them on anybody. I shiver involuntarily.
"He's...gone," Leila responds. "Someone shot him."
I can tell that Leila finds it hard to let the words stumble from her lips, but she does. For a few moments, the world around me is nothing but deafening silence.
Nate is dead.
My mind tells me this over and over, an echoing mantra that I can't quite come to terms with. He got shot? By who? Has the killer been pursued? What will happen to me, as the sole victor of District Five? What can I do about any of this? I can't exactly just turn around go back into the arena in the hopes I'll die or something.
"I've been tasked to mentor you and get you ready to advise your tributes next year," Leila tells me gingerly.
I can tell she wants to get to know me better, but there's a wall there. Not one of mine, but her own. A towering wall of greif, a cage that's holding her back. I get it, it's tough. I won't push her in case she's not ready yet.
I merely nod. My mouth is dry, my mind is blank. Sure, maybe I didn't know Nate all too well, but he cared. Somehow losing another person who gives a damn just makes it all hurt that little bit more.
"Alright then," I comment. "I'd better get myself together. For Nate."
Leila nods and offers me a tentative smile. She's trying. Hell, I'm trying too. This is where we are now.
"Let's do it."
I don't know how many days they keep me bedridden, all for my glamourous "recovery".
Leila brings me bowls of food often, but when I try to make conversation, she's distant. It's not the welcome I expected, really. You'd think that with a victor, someone would come running for an autograph and yet there's not a soul in sight. It's not like I'm bothered by it though. I'm used to the attention, the bad kind.
Finally, they let me out of the whitewashed, sterile room, and prepare me for the crowning. I guess I'm thankful for the change; the last few days have been filled with silence and the nights have been filled with screaming. Already the nightmares are seeping through my consciousness.
Leigha. Ashton. Lenore. Austin.
Lewis. Dathan. Shura.
There are too many faces in my mind, each of them twisting in a grotesque, sickening hallucination, morphing into unsettling masks that make me shudder in my sleep. No matter how far I run, I can't get rid of the sticky warmth of Austin's blood pouring on to me, or the white hot pain of Shura's knives when he dug them into my shoulders. It's some dark shit, for sure. My wounds are long hidden, but that phantom pain is still there. Far too often I find myself rubbing my calf or my shoulders where metal met flesh.
I may not be able to escape my dreams right now, but I will do everything I can to learn. Being able to lucid dream is a skill I know I'm going to need. I don't want to become a traumatised, shrivelled up victor like some of the others, hiding in their homes in the Victor's Village. Now I have a house in that village...the only house, now that Nate is gone.
My skin burns as my prep team fuss over me.
I've been looking forward to going home, but not to the life that's waiting for me. The interviews, the costumes; this is just the start of it, and I guess now I should have realised the price of living.
Just because I have a life, it's no longer mine.
I'm another Capitol pawn, another piece to push around, another smile for the cameras on a rainy day, another gown to criticise or marvel over. All of it's so trivial. I just want to go back to where I belong and hold the people I love so tightly that they tell me to stop. I want the rain to fall until it'll remind me that everything will be normal again.
That's the thing though.
It never will be.
Blumia, my head stylist, unzips a floor-length purple gown, the bodice trimmed with rhinestones, sparkling like little stars. The lower half of the dress is teased tulle, all in different shades of purple, layered to look like rumbling clouds. There's a thigh-high slit cut into the dress, with tulle around the frame. Instantly, I decide I don't like it; I've always been too rough and tumble, too gangly for pretty little dresses worn by girls who don't know better. The fact it's so revealing as well makes my skin tingle in a way I don't like. How many people will be out there, waiting for me to turn eighteen so that their fingerprints will be forever imprinted on my skin?
The colour's not bad I guess, and I get the illusion. I just don't get why it has to be so damn over the top.
Blumia zips me in and I shift, uncomfortable. I won't miss this part of being Panem's newest victor.
"Come along now, dear," my stylist sighs. "Remember what you were taught. Stand straight, dazzle the crowd and go home with the odds in your favour!"
I almost retch, but think the better of it - this woman's just doing her job. It might even be her dream, what do I care? I can't stand there and judge someone for their lifestyle choices, even if I don't get it. I mean, everyone at home thinks I'm some kind of freak. The least I can do is treat Capitolites with respect, even if some of them were probably rooting for my death.
The dress isn't the easiest to walk in, especially when paired with purple high heels. My hair is left in its curly and bushy state but fanned out like a lion's mane. Nestled in the brown curls is a giant, lightning-shaped hairclip, iridescent in colour, clearly a statement piece. Oh right, the whole illusion thing.
Okay so I'm a thundercloud, I get it.
Figures that this'll be my so-called 'image', but I don't mind. I hate the dress, but it still feels kind of personal. The makeup, too, is flawless, with the fake 'rain tears' and the glossy hue to my skin, as if my body has become akin to the surface of water. It's as if they've remade me into someone I no longer recognise. I wonder if the girl in the mirror has been told she should "just fucking die" like I have so many times? Or has she too, fought through a situation she believed she'd never find herself in?
It's this one moment of reflection that allows me to collect myself.
The positive girl who's a bit of a mess? Check. That's me. What's shaken me is the change or the lack of it. Nobody around here seems to notice that twenty-three children have died, and three of them were killed by me. Do they not realise they're talking about cheering on a murderer or something? Is there no soul in the Capitol? Is it all just aesthetics and fanciful consumerism? Maybe the Capitolites too, have their struggles and moments of sadness, only to hide it behind a mask for the better. Somehow, I kind of relate, but not in an I-love-watching-kids-die way.
Being made over is one thing, but when you're being ushered out of the room by your prep team in a floor-length gown with high heels, it's a guaranteed challenge. Add my twitches into the mix and I almost fall over a few times. Blumia helps the best she can as we follow a downward slope, a slight temperature drop signalling an oncoming breeze.
The closer I move to the theatre, the louder I hear it roar.
I don't know how many people are in there, and to be honest, I kind of don't care! My only thought right now is to get this crowning over with to avoid the assault of colours from the first row. This sense of nervousness though...it's energising. I don't mind the buzz, it's just all the fancy added things they want me to do that makes the whole thing so damn ridiculous. The breeze grows stronger - of course, they'll be using the open theatre from last year and cram as many people into the stands.
We make our way beneath the stage rather than to the side of it, deafening cheers frying my nerves and setting my stomach alight. I'm freaking out, and rightly so. While it's exhilarating, I never wanted all the fame and the glory and all that. I just wanted to go home.
Like a ghost, Leila appears from the shadows at my side as Dallas Cornwall interviews Luca Fawkes. She rubs my arm gently, trying to warm up the cooling skin, but Blumia waves her off because "You'll ruin the gloss!" or whatever she's saying.
"Checking in," Leila tells me. "How are you holding up? I know it's a lot."
"You're tellin' me," I mutter, pulling down the tulle at my legs to try and cover the gap in my dress a little more. "I don't know if I can handle all this. I'm tough but...this dress is killin' me."
My voice has grown a lot stronger over the last few days. Sometimes if I get too excited or loud, it comes out a little hoarse, but Leila said I'll be fine in a week, thanks to Capitol grade medicines.
Even now, she gives me a sad look. I know she gets it - a few years ago, she was standing in my place, waiting to be crowned by the President.
"Just be you," Leila reassures me. "I know you can do it. Nate knew you could too."
He would've, I know. He would've wanted me to be me, the person Leigha appreciated and Lenore understood. If I've learnt anything, then it's to keep on being apologetically me and not let anyone else's words remind me of how different I am. I guess I always tolerated the bullies before, but now their words are nothing but sawdust. Death can be crueller than a few spiteful words.
I wonder what they'll think of me now? The girl they threw away, a crowned victor, a jewel of the Capitol?
Maybe they'll realise it's just me living my life. Better yet, they might just leave me alone.
"Thanks," I throw her a cheeky wink and she giggles in response. "I'll show' em!"
At my exclamation, the crowd screams louder, but for a different reason. Through a small gap below the stage, I see Luca head off to the right as President Snow walks in from the left. They're getting ready for my crowning.
Blumia is at my side in an instant, quickly dabbing a couple of different powders on my face. I sneeze at first, but she shushes me and continues.
"Just a touch-up," she declares and nods to the stagehand. "They'll be ready for her."
"Wait, we're goin' now?" I ask.
It's all happening so fast! I don't mind a change in events and such, but I can barely remember my angle, let alone anything else.
Leila grabs my hand and squeezes it.
"Remember, do it for your family. For Mallory."
I'm surprised she even knows anything about me or my family, but I can barely nod before Dallas Cornwall is shouting my name.
"Welcoming to the stage, your Victor of the Eighty-First Hunger Games, Izzy Moire!"
Well, at least he remembered to call me Izzy.
The platform I'm on rises up into the open air, and I make my debut.
The straps of my heels dig painfully into my ankle, but I bound on to the stage, keeping my balance despite it all. The spotlights catch me and my world becomes a dazzling white, the encore of the crowd-drawing me forwards, almost magnetic in its quality. I wave blindly to the left and then spin wildly to the right, amping up my entrance as much as I can because dammit a girl's got to play an angle, and if I can play it, I'll play it well...even if it is a more exaggerated version of myself.
I don't walk directly over to Dallas Cornwall, instead waiting as President Snow produces the golden crown on a red cushion and walks over to me, the crowd cheering as he goes.
Wow, he's old. I think, but those bright blue eyes and that devious smile tell me that he's an old dog still learning new tricks, and I know not to say anything too outlandish around him.
He raises the crown to the crowd and they roar in anticipation, whistles blowing, confetti flying; an aneurysm of madness, cheer and infectious delight. He places the golden crown delicately upon my brow, a golden sculpture of thunderbolts, by the look of it. Aw, they even made the crown personal, huh?
"A commendable effort, Miss Moire," the President says to me, barely audible over the sound of the crowd. "You are proof alone that hard work and determination will get you anywhere."
"Thanks, Pres," I answer, the words twitching and getting lodged in my throat. "P-President Snow I mean."
Instantly embarrassed, I pray that I haven't made a grave mistake. For a moment, he does nothing.
Then he chuckles.
The President is no playing piece; he's the one that moves them. There'd be no reason to mess with that. Yet, he chuckles, patting me on the shoulder gently.
"A simple mistake, Miss Moire," he tells me. "Let us hope that you make no more during your years as our victor."
I say nothing more and simply nod. It's a clear threat, a simple warning veiled by the noise of the crowd. The President's big business and I don't want to know how bad things'll get if I cause too much trouble. People tell me I'm fiery but they forget that I'm not stupid. I've got to protect the people at home.
Finally, I bounce my way over to Dallas, who welcomes me with a grin.
"Wow," he calls. "So what you said before the Games was true! You really were the underdog in all of this."
"Yep!" I chirp. "What did I say? I fooled them all into thinkin' I was dumb, but I'm actually pretty smart, y'know."
"You certainly are," Dallas chuckles. "Well, we're over the moon that you have become our victor and the Capitol sure has fallen in love with you. Let's take a look at your journey and remember those special moments in the arena who transformed you into who you are today."
I nod, smile, and brace myself for the oncoming storm.
A giant screen in the centre of the theatre lights up and the Capitol logo flashes across the screen. As the fanfare blasts out of the speakers, and the film begins, my elbow twitches. There'll be cameras watching me for this, but even so, the prospect of having to relive my time in the arena is painful. I just got out of there; why do I have to go back?
I see myself at the reapings, waiting to be called. Even now I can remember the hands that pushed me from my section at the sound of my name, and I see myself stumble, before shaking my fist at the girls. It was just another day of my life until that moment. You would've thought that watching someone get sent to die would command a single shred of respect, but it hadn't.
If only they could see me now.
After I'm dragged to the stage, the scene changes to my arrival in the Capitol; the waves I gave as I took in the bright colours, the chariots riding along as I bounced up and down beside Shion, who was transfixed on the candle before him. The scores then flash up on the screen one by one...Ashton, Lenore, Leigha and Lewis' five's, Dathan's six, my own and Shura's seven's and Austin's ten, among others. Only my interview is included in this final cut, and I watch myself babbling about Mallory. A grin settles itself across my lips at that.
The bloodbath arrives, and madness ensues. Even though they've seen it happen already, I hear the crowd gasp as Morgana throws a knife into Adira's skull, just as I slide underneath it. Orion takes her out and I'm off running to meet my allies. Austin skewers the girl from Three and the girl from Seven, while the girl from Two chases down Parker, from Dathan's alliance and takes him out with an axe to the skull. Geoni's death is just as gruesome as it was when I witnessed it, and from a different angle, it looks even more grotesque. Finally, it's all over, and the Games begin.
The Careers lose the boy from Two pretty early on when the payette holding the cornucopia breaks, and while there's tension, it spurs them on to find the girl from Eight, the girl from Twelve and Shion. He was smart to set the fire trap that almost killed the boy from Four, but it didn't work out. I watch as Austin takes kill after kill with no issues, and his budding friendship with the girl from Two, Vanity, is documented and featured here or there. I watch the fight between our alliance and Dathan's, seeing Leigha's skull get caved in by Dathan's hammer and Shura leap on to me, digging his knives in my shoulders. I wince slightly, still remembering how it felt to be stabbed so harshly, and yet I watch as I stab him through the eyes and help Lenore to take down Dathan before she kills him.
As the Games progress, the Careers turn on each other, leaving an injured Austin cradling Vanity as she dies. The scene hits me hard as well; he really wasn't just some monster, he really did care. He was just here to do whatever he wanted to do in order to get out alive, like the rest of us. I respect that. I realise that there's not a lot being shown of Aline, Barric or Cleve, so I can only guess whatever they were doing just didn't make the cut. Finally, however, I see them emerge as they battle Austin, the glass breaking. As Aline and Barric run from Austin, I see Lenore and Lewis talk with each other as Lenore bleeds out. I take out Ashton, the kid looking more and more pathetic as he tries to escape from me. I look at myself from that scene, and it scares me how much that girl has changed. I almost don't look like myself, with matted hair and mud all over my body.
As Austin takes out Barric and leaves Aline to die, it's me, Lewis and Austin that make our way to the final payette. They play the finale out in full, all with dramatic music alongside it to add to the supposed 'entertainment' factor of the Games. Austin guts Lewis and then chases after me. As our fight progresses, we eventually see Austin strangling me and my quick knifework finally getting him in the throat, where a fountain of blood erupts from him, coating my body.
The screen fades to black as I crawl out from under him, drenched in blood, raising my head to the heavens.
The crowd cheers as I smile, hiding my own disgust and the flashes of memory that flicker in the corner of my mind's eye.
"That was truly a life-changing journey, Izzy," Dallas says. "Your true resilience shone through from beginning to end. What kept you going?"
"Well, y'know, it was home," I shrug. "I don't have a lot back there, but the memories of Five? I was determined to go back."
"You truly had some skill out there," Dallas notes. "You killed three of our tributes as well! What was the experience like?"
Really? I think. You asking me about what it was like to be a murderer?
"I just wanted to survive," I shrug. "They wanted to kill me, so I killed them."
"That's admirable," Dallas remarked supportively. "Now, your allies...you and Lenore were really close. Do you miss her?"
"Maybe outside of the Games, we could have been better friends," I admit. "She really understood me. We're both so different, y'know? I miss her."
"Ashton's betrayal must have shaken you up, right?" Dallas asks. "For an ally of yours to become your enemy - what was going through your mind?"
"I wish I'd seen it sooner," I sigh. "Ashton had his own stuff to deal with 'n' all, but I don't think I could've helped him. Sooner or later we would've had to fight."
"Did you hate him, for what he did to Lenore?"
"I don't think I hated him, but it was a kinda bad move," I say. "We were all workin' together and there was no reason to betray us like that."
"There have been some rumours that there was a heated argument during training with some of the other tributes," Dallas raises an eyebrow. "Is that why your alliance fought with Dathan, Shura and Lewis?"
"Yeah, it was," I tell him honestly. "I didn't get Dathan but I guess he was trying to look out for Lenore, but she didn't want it. Then he and his allies got all funny and came after us. As ya can see, we wiped the floor with 'em."
The crowd laughs, as does Dallas, and I quickly smile and my ankle twitches painfully in one of my heels. There are too many eyes watching this, the parents of the kids I killed, my family, my bullies - everyone in Panem must be watching me right now. It's a unique kinda pressure, but I'm holdin' out for the end.
"What do you think you'll be doing after the Games?" Dallas asks. "Any plans for what comes next?"
"I wanna see my family," I nod, and the crowd claps politely. "The Capitol seems pretty sweet though, so maybe I'll swing by sometime, huh?"
I hype up the crowd and send them a wink. I know full well that I'm not interested in coming back to the Capitol or anything, but they're eating it up and that's my job, so I guess I'm doing whatever it is that I need to do.
"I'm thinkin' of keeping up with my training," I suggest. "It could be useful, y'know?"
"Expecting any unwanted visitors?" Dallas jokes nervously.
Instantly, I can tell his posture has tensed up, and I know that the question is a loaded one, perhaps even slightly risky to be asking a victor with President Snow in the surrounding area. It's a test, one I need to take on. I need to joke about something, no matter how stupid or random it might be.
"Nah, just cleaning house," I joke back. "Y'know those flowers outside are pretty dangerous! They make take me out or somethin'."
The crowd erupts with laughter at this and I laugh with them, playing up my energetic, fun angle to keep them entertained for just a little bit longer.
"Well on the topic of dangerous flowers, I think we've heard it all," Dallas declares. "Can we all put our hands together for our brand new Victor, Izzy Moire!"
As the buzzer sounds and I rise from my chair, the tension in my body washes from me like water off a duck's back. Finally, I know I can breathe again and look forward to the things that are the most important - Mallory and Zapp.
Giving the crowd one last wave, I step back on the platform and descend.
It's over.
It's time.
As the train surges past the great river leading to District Five, I can't believe I'm going home.
It's been a few restless nights on the train, and with only Leila to accompany me on the ride there, it's been a bit awkward. She's sweet, but I can tell that she's deep in thought and Nate probably meant a great deal to her. Too many times I've walked past her cabin to hear her muffled crying, and while I always knock to ask if she's okay, there's never been any answer.
I don't have much time to mull over these details though, because I'm here.
I'm home.
I don't know exactly how to feel, given the terms I left on. I've always been the outcast, so how will the District react to me now? Will people still hate me? Or will they see me for who I am; different, but a human being capable of winning the Hunger Games? I don't know what to expect, and I don't know how to feel, but that doesn't matter. What matters is that I'm back in the place I belong, even if this place never really wanted me.
I smooth down my bushy brown hair as my brown gaze plucks a blue denim cap from the pile of clothes in the train car. With the cap in place, my blue dungarees with black boots and a white shirt remind me of the days when I worked in the power plant. Being a maintenance expert was never easy, nor ideal for a girl of my age, but it helps my parents out. I guess being a victor means I'll have to put that life behind me.
Putting the hat on top of my head, I hear a knocking sound from behind me and turn to meet Leila's warm gaze. In her hands, she holds a small slip of paper, which she hands out to me.
"I know I'm not Nate," she begins slowly. "But if you need me for anything, here's my number. I know I'll be a world away in Three, but I'll try to help the best I can."
"Thanks," I grin, grateful for Leila's attempt to reach out. "Don't let the blues get ya down! We'll see each other again soon enough."
She grins back hesitantly, but it's a genuine smile. I'm glad that it is, for once; I've had my fair share of fake allies and fake smiles all the way from the Capitol.
Five's train station looks the same as it always has. It's got the same concrete pillars and the same metal roofing, and looking down the valley to the dam is a sight that fills me with relief. It's a sign that for now, I'm safe. I'm back where I should be, away from the ridiculousness of it all.
I took nothing with me when I went into the Games, apart from what I was wearing. I guess I'm doing the exact same thing coming back. There's nothing else to bring, nothing else to remember, except, of course, the dress they made me wear in the Capitol, which they insisted I keep. While I wouldn't mind burning it, I might keep it around for a little while, as a reminder of...everything.
My boots meet concrete as I hop off the train and give one last energetic wave to Leila. I wait for the train doors to close, making sure to jump around wildly, showing Leila some vigorous jazz hands, which makes her laugh. Maybe I'm finally getting through to her. I hope that our calls will only cement our future friendship. The cameras are filming everything, as I expected they would. These Capitolites just can't help but to stick their nose in, can they? Well, let them, because today is a special day and I hope to remember every minute of it.
District Five isn't quiet when I step out of the station. I would have thought that maybe people wouldn't have cared but the sound is quick to reach my ears. Applause, cheering, whooping, people shouting my name. People wave rags over their heads like some kind of flag. At first, I wonder if they're happy to see me, but then it hits me; I'm feeding these people for a whole year. The Capitol gives out a healthy food ration to everyone, and I've just about saved the lives of starving families who need it the most. The thought warms my heart, even though I know they likely don't care about me.
Still, they clap and call my name, and I walk down a line of people, grabbing their hands and squeezing them, grinning and laughing, dancing around as wild as ever. It's a contagious and exhilarating feeling, and it's one of power. I can feel the energy of positivity and gratitude rush through me. Sure, I see a few people whisper behind their hands, but I completely ignore them - in time, they too will realise that my fight helped them in some way, shape or form.
That's enough for me.
At the end of the line stands Zapp and my family; Mom, Dad, Mallory and my other fifteen siblings. I bound over to Zapp and envelop him in a bear hug, nearly bowling him over. While I know he always felt a little worried about revealing our friendship, I can tell he knows that he doesn't need to hide. He's more comfortable now.
"Nice to see ya, Zapp!" I laugh, punching him on the arm.
"Yeah, whatever," he scoffs, swatting me away, but a grin shines through and he hugs me tightly. "I missed you, Izzy."
"Missed you too, buddy." I smile.
I make my way down the line, hugging my siblings, from twenty-three-year-old Tesla, all the way down to newborn Zac. Finally, Mallory reaches her small arms up and locks around my neck, holding me tightly.
"You did it Izz!" she cries happily. "You did it!"
"Who, me?" I call. "Of course! I did it only for you!"
I tickle her under the chin and she dances away from me, laughing and hiding behind Tesla's towering frame, leaving me with two more people.
My Dad and I have never seen eye to eye. My Mom's nicer, and she does care, but I could always tell that the glint in her eye always held a small amount of shame that I, her daughter, was such a rambunctious scamp. What shocks me now, however, is my Dad, who walks right up to me and hugs me tightly.
"Dad? I-" I try to say something, but instead, my head twitches slightly, just as confused as I am about this whole debacle.
"You're my daughter," my Dad says simply into my ear. "I know you're...different, and I don't always get it. I know I've not been the best role model for you growing up, but seeing you in those Games reminded me that just because I have seventeen children, it doesn't mean I can leave any of them behind."
He gives me a tentative smile, but I cross my arms, sizing him up. There's plenty of reason for me to still feel resentful towards him, but there's a flicker of understanding there, I know. He's trying.
"Okay, Dad," I decide, finally relaxing. "But you'd better let me do my own thing! I'm weird as hell and you know it. I appreciate it though."
My Mom steps forward next, gripping me tightly, tears in her eyes.
"As soon as you walked in, I knew you'd come out," she tells me, a conviction in her eyes. "I know your Father and I haven't always seen the light in you, but by Snow, we see it now."
Good. I think. I hope you'll accept me for who I really am now.
"It's all I ever wanted," I tell her, before whistling. "C'mon Mallory! We've got a big house to find, am I right?"
"You betcha!" Mallory squeaks, darting to my side and grabbing my hand with her small one. "Let's go!"
My face beaming like the sun, I skip my way down the street, leading Mallory by the hand.
The sound of her bubbling laughter gives me hope for the future.
It's a month since I won.
My house is large and spacious - fancy the locals call it - with a purple door and a bookcase full of mathematical theory and binary code. The rooms are decadent, with a rich décor with every detail finely tuned to perfection. If I could make the house more purple, I could, because I've decorated it in the colour in almost any way possible.
I chose to live alone, but Mallory and Zapp come to visit every day after school. Mom and Dad eat at mine on Tuesdays and Saturdays. I call Leila three times a week. I've just installed a lilac coloured carpet in the living room.
It's crazy how, on the outside, my worries seem so pedestrian.
To anyone else in the District, I'm just a victor living her life, living her dream. I guess in some ways, life is a lot better since I won. I get a good cheque every month, and everyone seems to take an interest in how I'm doing. A lot of the bullying has stopped, although there are quite a few people who are fake now, just desperate to hang out with a victor so they can seem all "cool" and such. I don't give those people the time of day. They don't have any room in my life unless they genuinely care about me.
I've done a lot of forgiving. First, it was with my Mom and Dad, but then townspeople soon came up to me to apologise for being a bystander to all the hate I used to get. It hurts me that they never did it before, but it's better late than never, I guess. I'm not here to harm anyone after all; I just want to live my life as me and embrace who I am.
Some nights I sleep, others, the demons come to my door, but I've dealt with worse. When I wake up from a nightmare filled with Austin with red eyes and fangs, or Shura stabbing me with shards of jagged glass, I remind myself that I'm safe, and I'm okay. I look up at the luminescent stars painted on my ceiling and remember that I am still alive. Combined with my purple throw and warm bedding, all I do is take a moment to breathe and remember where I am. I've been through horrors that many people will never witness. I've fought people with twisted, sick minds. I can live through a few nightmares, at least for now.
There's an emptiness that's settled in my heart; not one that grows, but more an acknowledgement that I could have done better. Maybe I could have stopped Ashton from stabbing Lenore, or convinced Dathan to take a moment to cool off rather than to fight him with my words. The more I consider those thoughts, the more they manifest themselves. They're becoming crippling doubts, a guilt that I can't shake, a memory of what could have been, but never was.
I'm still strong. I'm still wild. I'm still me, but now there are shadows beneath my eyes when I don't wear concealer (some Capitol shit that makes me looks like less of a panda), and some days I have to fight to stay positive, or I won't get out of bed.
There'll always be lingering effects, I know that much. Still, it'll be up to me to fight my demons for years to come.
I'm ready for them, though.
I'll have to be.
"OMG Izzy, hi!" Priscilla calls, catching up to me.
How do I describe Priscilla Dame? A blond bimbo with pigtails and no personality? Check. She was one of the dolls that bullied me back in the day, but she's been following me around for a while now, for one thing, and one thing only.
Clout.
Having a victor as a friend can only mean good things, and while I've deterred a lot of people trying to sweet talk me, Priscilla has been nothing but consistent in her determination to break down my defences and pretend to be my sweet little "friend". I'm having none of it, but it sure is entertaining watching her lumber after me in worn kitten heels and a pink flouncy dress. It's not her I mind though; it's the bullies she brings with her.
A lot of people in the District respect me, and that's enough. It's just the determined, lingering few who are hellbent on making my day a rainy one...not that I mind the rain, of course. Priscilla's shrill tones tend to attract them, and that's it, it's game over.
"What do you want, Pris?" I call, catching the whispers and sniggers of some onlookers gathering near the Victor's Village.
They don't really come in, but sometimes a brave soul will knock on my door and run away when I answer or throw stones at me when my back is turned. Since then, I've kept a kunai or two on my person, just in case anyone tries to pull a fast one on me. I'm not just going to stand around and take the abuse anymore; I almost died a month ago, and I need to live for today.
"Hey, Freak!" Maxim, a snooty kid from the richer parts of Five, calls from the sidelines. "Where're your twitches at, spaz?"
I ignore him, obviously, since his calls are mixed with Priscilla's shrill tones. I take a deep breath.
Breathe in, breathe out.
"Hey, Izziot!" Ness giggles, another of my old bullies. "Spread your legs for the Capitol yet? Not like they'd want a twitchy weirdo, that is. I'm surprised they didn't kill you off!"
"Yeah," Maxim laughs. "The ratings must have fallen really low. Maybe she slept with one of the Gamemakers, so they let her live!"
"What a filthy whore!" Ness crows and the pair fall about laughing.
Fire ignites itself in my veins. A part of me tells me to back down, but after all these years and after all I've done, do they have nothing nice to say to me? Why can't they at least keep their hurtful words to themselves? A heaviness settles itself over my heart, and even though I want to let it go, I just can't. the fire rises within me, consuming almost everything I am.
Suddenly, I'm not in District Five.
I'm back in the arena with mud up to my ankles, rain pouring down and settling in my matted hair.
The sound of breaking glass and the rumbling of overhead thunder returns to my ears as the blue sky becomes a black, swirling monstrosity. Ashton is sprawled on the floor in front of me, a few knives in his back, struggling to crawl away from me. The cool air catches itself in my lungs as my gaze burns into him with vicious intensity, a kunai in my hand, the blade dripping blood.
"Say it again," I hiss. "Say that shit again!"
As Ashton tries to rise, I send a punch into his nose and he stumbles back. I raise my blade, seeing the fear flash in his eyes as the lightning streaks across the sky.
"I-Izzy," he cries. "I didn't mean to! I'm sorry!"
"I'll fuckin' kill you," I snap. "Do it again, I dare you. I'll destroy ya. I've sacrificed everythin' and put up with too much crap to deal with this shit one more time, you hear me?"
"I'm sorry, p-please, just let me go!"
I kick Ashton in his side, hearing him squeal in pain. Raising my blade, my eyes like the embers of a dying flame, I ready myself to-
"Izzy!"
Someone pushes me roughly to one side and I'm brought out of my mind, Zapp breathing hard and looking down at me, his hands outstretched, looking at me with fear and worry.
"Hey, Izz, it's me," he says gently, a little nervous.
I look over to Maxim, who's cradling a broken nose, and probably some bruised ribs. Ness has a slash across her forearm, and a thin light cut stains her white blouse. Priscilla is frozen to the spot in shock, completely mindblown for some reason. My palms sting.
My kunai lies abandoned on the cracked concrete a few feet away as pain erupts in my ankle - only twisted, but enough to bring me back to reality.
"Wait..." I mutter, putting the pieces together. "Did I do this?"
I scramble up, approaching Maxim and Ness. As I move forward, they both recoil in fear.
"I'm so sorry, I didn't mean-"
"S-Stay away from us!" Ness cries out, dragging Maxim up.
"Yeah! Weirdo!" Maxim chokes, cradling his freshly broken nose, the blood oozing from his hand.
The duo run off, and I turn to Zapp, before looking down at my hands. Did I just...flip out? I try to place what happened, to recall what memories are there, but I can only remember my vision of Ashton in the arena, and the intense anger I felt. The only time I've felt so much anger and pain was when I killed Ashton. It was my determination to live that killed Shura. It was my desperation that killed Austin. Ashton...he was probably the only person I wanted to kill, even if I'm hesitant to admit it.
"C'mon," Zapp whispers, grabbing my shoulder gently. "Let's get you inside and clean you up."
I shouldn't be letting Zapp do this; he's fourteen, and not the age to witness the horrors of the Games. My ankle throbs and my heart is thudding as if I've been running for miles, and yet I don't move. Priscilla finally makes a whimpering sound and figures that maybe today isn't the best day to follow me. A few people have gathered to watch the situation unfold, and Zapp tugs on my arm again.
"Come on, Izzy," he pleads. "The longer we're out here, the worse it'll look on you."
He scoops up my kunai and pulls me by the arm once more. This time, I let him take me.
What have I done? What have I become?
"Can I ask you a weird question?"
It's been two weeks, and I haven't left the house. How can I face the outside world if I'm not even sure how to process what's really going on inside of me? I don't want to freak out and hurt anyone again. The visions and the flashbacks have come back, but they're peaceful; the sound of breaking glass or a memory of conversations with Lenore, Leigha and Ashton. I always feel nervous for a moment before I remind myself that they're not my reality. This is a normal part of the healing process, or at least, that's what Leila tells me. She said she had visions too until they eventually faded away. I guess everyone deals with trauma differently, so I'm going to have to find my muse.
"Sure," Leila responds, her voice slightly muffled at the other end of the phone.
"Did you ever flip out on someone?"
"Once," she admits, almost immediately. "It was Nate. He was there to bring me back to earth, to ground me when I needed it the most."
"How could you trust someone to be there for you and not worry about hurtin' 'em?" I wonder, thinking about Zapp and his gentle care or Mallory's optimism.
"I guess I just did," Leila hums. "I mean, there was no real defining point, but I think one day, I just decided to hope for things to get better."
I guess that's what I have to do now, to remember to be my happy self and make sure that the days don't make my blue sky so overcast. I've always been the positive one despite all the horrible words and the bullying, so why did that one time get to me? Have the Games broken my spirit? Have they drained me of my happy energy? Are they moulding me into someone new, someone I won't like?
"I just don't wanna hurt any more people," I explain.
"You won't," Leila tells me.
"You can't know that for sure," I scoff.
"No, but I believe it," she tells me, confident. "Everyone hits a wall at some point - you just have to work your way past it."
How can a single sentence make so much sense and provide me with so many more questions at the same time? Even so, Leila's got a point. Maybe if I look at this as a moment of weakness and use it as an opportunity to learn and grow I can make things better. I'll evolve and develop in everything I do and just stay happy and humble like I used to be. Maybe that's the key to all of this.
"Thanks, Leila," I tell her gratefully. "I know I don't make much sense 'n' all, but your words mean a lot, they really do."
"That's what I'm here for," Leila responds. "We mentors have to stick together, right?"
"You don't have to tell me twice!" I chuckle.
A little tension has been released from my shoulders now, and maybe it was just another perspective that has cleared the fog in my pounding head and aching heart. Leila's right. I can't be sunny all of the time, but when the rain comes, I have to bask in it as I do in real life. I have to accept that what happens, happens, and we move on.
I'm just happy nobody pressed any charges.
Six months fly by too fast.
My house has changed completely again; still purple, mind you, but it's cleaner, with warmer and brighter colours, pockets of bright art and interesting sculptures and inventions. Such interesting contraptions distract me from my fractured mind, but when they don't, the basement of my households a small training centre. It's certainly nothing to boast about; the Capitol's training centre is far superior, but having an environment to channel my emotions, however I'm feeling, keeps my head clearer and my mind more resolute, set on the future.
Now, sat here on this train, with the world flying by and Mallory's sweet goodbyes in my ears I can only think about how far I've come and how much further I may have to go. A part of me feels broken, but every day I remind myself that my determination to stay happy is real, and I want nothing but the best for the people around me.
That has to count for something.
"Hey, you!" Leila grins, entering the train car to come and find me.
She's coming with me on the Victory Tour since Nate wasn't able to. Someone has to keep an eye on the new victor. The winner from last year, Luke, had Isaac, a replacement mentor. Now that Isaac's apparently been deployed to District Ten (so Leila tells me, anyway), I don't have anyone to watch over me. I prefer it that way! Leila and I have grown a lot closer, and she looks a lot happier in herself as well. Maybe the thing we both needed was time.
"Hey!" I grin, my cheeks bulging. "What's up?"
"We're approaching District Twelve," Leila explains. "The prep team want to get you ready."
"Alright alright, I'll wear another damn dress or somethin'," I roll my eyes playfully. "Ya know what they're like."
"Well, actually I put in a couple of requests in the wardrobe," Leila smirks. "Plenty of purples and basically no dresses. Oh, and I wanted to ask, do you want cue cards for the tour or did you want to give your own speeches? I can talk to your escort about it."
"My own," I say instantly. There's no way I can spew some Capitol loving crap; twenty-three kids died so that I could be here today. The least I can do is be genuine enough to give their families some real closure. "And...thanks. Y'know, for everythin'."
"Don't mention it," Leila winks, and stands up, smoothing down her skirt. "Right, I've got some more business to attend to. Get ready and I'll see you out there."
"You bet!" I cry, shooting finger guns at my mentor.
She leaves the car laughing, and I stand with a smile on my face. I don't know if I'm ready to face the tributes' families, to remember the faces in the sky, but I know I have to, and I'm going to damn well show them how sorry I am.
They deserve that much.
District Twelve is a sombre place, ashy and grey, with a sense of deprivation that hangs in the air. I didn't really know the girl, Filla, but her parents are crying when I tell them how sweet she was, and how it was too soon to see her go. My speech for Lewis is harder; I don't know where to start. I tell his family about his spirit, his unyielding determination that rivalled my own, and how if only I'd made the first move, he could have lived to come home.
District Eleven smells fresh and new, but Morgana's face only shows resolution as a single elderly lady stands on the platform. As I tell her I'm sorry, her parents are brought up by Peacekeepers, clearly hoping to escape the eulogies written in my mind. Cleve's maturity is clear in his photo, and his big family and friends listen to me in silence as I tell them of his smart outlook. While I never knew him, I believed he was a good person. His Mother smiles at that sentiment and I know that my genuinity shines through. My words have put the memory of him to rest.
I'm not ready for District Ten, be it my rivalry with Dathan or my closeness with Lenore. I apologise for my tense relationship with Dathan and I acknowledge that maybe I should have tried to understand him more. His girlfriend, along with his family, weep for him on the platform. His boyfriend, however, stares into my eyes as if I've committed a great injustice, even though Dathan didn't die by my hands.
You helped Lenore do it though. A voice in my head reminds me.
Lenore's Father - along with some younger kids I'd say were her friends - listen to my every word, as if waiting for the end of a story. I speak words into the crowd, but part of me feels numb as if there's a sense of guilt that I just can't escape, no matter how hard I try.
"Lenore, I miss you," I say. "You were different in the best way, in a way that I related to. You never questioned the person I was; you accepted me regardless, with no worries or qualms, and while you were different too, I could see myself in your eyes. We are both the girl who was different, the one who people stayed away from. Lenore was brilliant. She was everything. I avenged her, and I hope her soul is laid to rest."
The afterparty holds the festive tone like the other two Districts, although Ten favours thick meats and chewy delicacies. The evening air holds a gentle breeze that carries the faint smell of manure and dewy grass, which was offputting at first, but over time the scent faded. I guess the people of Ten are used to this all of the time.
I slip away after the party finishes, just for half an hour to take a walk and clear my head. Leila pulls a few strings, and before I know it, I have two Peacekeepers at my side and a direct route to Lenore's graveyard. I remember her mentioning her home once or twice. Maybe, if only for a moment, I can connect with the place she's now resting in.
The two Peacekeepers don't come in with me - I ask them to wait outside, and thankfully, they do so. What a victor wants, a victor gets, to some extent. I patrol rows upon rows of gravestones until I reach the newer graves, ones with basic, plain stones with words that haven't faded away over the years. While Lenore may have her place now, the words on her stone will fade too, I realise. That's why I have to keep her fresh in my memories so that she can live on through me.
Finally, I find her, a brand new stone, with a silver bell hanging off the side of the grave, fresh soil covered over the place she's been buried. I stand there for a few moments, silently telling her about how great she was, and how maybe she should have survived instead of me.
"She really did like you."
I whip around to see Lenore's Father standing a few metres from me, eyeing Lenore's grave with some kind of odd fondness.
"She was different, like me, and after her Mother passed, we were all we had," he explains. "I'd grown up around death, and it never scared me. I raised her the same way."
"An arena advantage?" I wonder aloud.
"Well, in some ways, yes, but it's mostly due to my profession," Lenore's Father sighs. "Undertakers are the closest living thing to death, so people tend to be rather uncomfortable and steer clear. Some, however, appreciate the work I do."
"I'm sorry," I explain slowly. "I don't want ya to hurt now she's gone."
"Well, death comes for us all in the end," the man answers me. "I cared for my daughter more than anyone else in this world, and yet I knew that at some point, be it if I were alive or dead, death would come for her. The Hunger Games was just one of many possibilities. All I can do is keep her memory alive, and thank the person who changed her life before it ended."
I smile slightly and nod at him, and Lenore's father simply nods back.
"What you said up there on that stage...it was real," he continues. "I could feel your pain in every word. Know this, Isabella Moire, your day to die will come, so spend every moment like it is your last. We cannot waste precious time when we have lives to live - you should know that best since this is now your second chance. Best of luck with your future. I'm truly proud that my daughter met someone who appreciated her for who she was."
"Thank you," I mutter, letting his words roll over me, sending me into a place of contemplation. "I'll live for the both of us."
I'd live it in her memory, for it is a gift I can't give back.
District Nine is grain and dust, yellow fields on rolling hills. The young girl, Aline, was fresh-faced but ready and prepared to fight. Her Father and the rest of her triplet watch me as I speak of her impressive skill for someone so young. Barric was responsible and smart, and he got far, but I can't help but see Mallory in the eyes of his younger brother and sister, just wishing he could come back home.
District Eight is anything but colourful and bright, mere shadows of faded colours snaking their way across the landscape between mismatched housing and damaged old buildings. Cassia was in a home, I found out, but her sister, bound to a wheelchair, doesn't look away when I finish speaking. Shura's younger sister sobs as she clings to her Mother's arm, and while I feel for her, all I can really feel is the red hot pain of his switchblades in my shoulders.
District Seven is rich and green, and Nova's Father looks drained as if the life has left him, pale-faced, almost guilty. Her friend is crying, just another face in the crowd, yet another tearful cry that I will remember forever. Ashton's sister - Juniper, he said - watches me in fury. She knows what I did, and I know too, but there's nothing she can do to close the gap between us.
District Six is steam and grime, worn models of old trains or cars stacked up in one, ready to be refurbished and sent back to the Capitol. Leigha's face greets me here, and her parents are quiet, their movements forgettable, just as she was so afraid to be. Geoni's Mother, the mayor of Six, clutches a handkerchief in her grasp as an older woman attempts to calm her down.
District Four smells of salt and sand, the sun bright and warm as it graces the surface of the waves. Aisha watches me, as sharp as ever, while her twin laments her loss, and her family listen in stony silence. Orion, as quiet as ever, only has his uncle come for him, although the man himself seems unfocused, uncoordinated and inattentive. Drunk possibly, to drown out those lonely thoughts.
District Three is wires and walls, a maze of technology and intelligent conversation. Naydene's sister and her wife cry quietly, forever missing their bright spark, while one or two people shoot them dirty looks. Parker's parents are knelt before me, praying quietly as I speak about him. Maybe he was something precious to them, or maybe it's all an act, I'm not sure.
District Two brings me stone and structure, volunteers training across the fields and in halls. Vanity's parents look away from each other, even though both of them are clearly grieving. Landon's family don't show up and refuse to leave their house under the pretence of illness. From what I know about Careers, they probably were embarrassed over the "dishonour" of losing their child.
District One, so chic and sleek, show mountains of glittering jewels in shop windows. Adira's girlfriend weeps into the shoulders of Adira's sisters, but all I can remember is the knife from Morgana's hand, flying into her skull. Austin's blue eyes greet me, as his drunken Father vomits across the stand and his best friend steps awkwardly to one side. I guess he really did have a dream, and that was to escape his mess of a Father.
The Capitol in all its colour, a menagerie of endless wonder. A few nights of full bellies and fake smiles, and I wait for the endless partying to finally be over. Eyes watch me from across the room, trying to bare me to the world, to unveil my secrets and whisper them into the fabrics of foolish dreams. When the night ends, I am grateful, because instead of turning my eyes to the haunting beauty, I turn my gaze towards home.
The rain falls in Five.
After all the celebrations have been said and done, it's just me and Mallory, stringing together long daisy chains as the breeze carries the air of a downpour with it. Dangling a chain of flowers in front of me, Mallory giggles as I complete the chain and place the ring of flowers upon her head.
"Now you're a Queen!" I joke, poking and prodding her, causing her to giggle and shy away from me.
"Queen of the daises! Queen of the daises!" she chants. "What should you be Queen of?"
"The rain, duh!" I scoff playfully, pointing up at grey clouds above us.
"Queen of the rain?" Mallory asks. "I like that!"
"Ya better, ya rascal!" I cry, beginning to chase her across the garden as she flees from me, laughing all the way.
One by one, cold droplets land on my dark skin, snaking their way past the tiny hairs and down to the tip of my fingers. Calmly I lean back and let the rain fall on to me, forever grateful for the one thing that brings me peace.
"Izzy, promise me that you'll never leave," Mallory begs, snuggling into my side. "Sometimes the big clouds and thunder scare me, but not when I'm with you."
"Ah, kiddo, you've got me for a long time now," I reassure her. "I promised I'd get back to ya, right? Now, we gotta go inside. What will Ma say to me if I bring ya back soakin' wet?"
"Oh no!" Mallory cries, suddenly worried. "Not Ma's good eats!"
As I usher my younger sister back indoors, I drape the daisy chains over my arms as the downpour begins. For a moment, I let the world wash over me, enjoying the dewy freshness of the air and the cool feeling of water across my face. Then, I step back, heading into the house, reminding myself of a ritual to honour the friends I made and the people that fell.
From this day, until my last, I will remember to smile.
Only the sun can make the rain go away.
There we are, here is the end! I hope you enjoyed Izzy's homecoming chapter and the end of Picking Up The Pieces.
I do have some things to say before we go, so let's get into those!
I have come so far. So, so far. When I think back to 2015, I remember a time when I was unhappy in my life and SYOT's were my way of coping. Everything in life was a mess, and so, I was a mess! Discontinuing the story in 2016 gave me the time to explore other avenues and take time to figure out what was really going on in this head of mine. Roll on a few years later and here we are in 2021. I have learnt so much in my time away; be it about life, writing or everything else. Even coming back too, has given me lessons I need to learn. I can't cover everything, but there are a couple of things I want to say here, be it for future readers or future Ben reading back for the memories.
I take my writing seriously. I always have done, and I probably always will. The last few months have taught me to be kinder to myself, to set some boundaries so I don't burn out. Self-care as a writer is something a lot of people forget about, but it can be really important and can help you recharge. Just being honest with how I feel towards my friends as well - that's been helpful too. I have to remember to stay humble and generous, yet be proud of who I am and what I achieve.
Finishing PUTP took grit and determination. It took a lot of support. It took a lot of energy. We are finally here! I can only hope that you enjoyed the journey.
There are a few special individuals that I'd like to mention:
Haiden - You've been here for me since the beginning of all of this. I can't even begin to express how incredible you have been throughout this process, even in the years where I wasn't on FanFiction and I was struggling through my mind, desperate to get out but finding nowhere else to turn. I've had the pleasure of Risse, the brilliance of Shion and now I hope to do Valerian justice. Thank you so much king, you remind me to take breaks and to breathe when I'm in too deep.
Remus - Every time I think about saying something, a part of me wants to cry, mostly because you're smol and sweet, but also because ever since I continued this journey, you came to this story and watched Dathan blossom. Over the last few months, we've become so much closer and I can't express how your open heart and vc reactions have made me smile. Remember your light and your brilliance, and remember your worth, because you are very much valued. Are you ready for Ham?
Alec - Ah my Scottish boi! You've been with me since Seeping Wounds, and ever since then we've kept contact, be it through the both of us updating at the same time (or one after the other) or the two of us discussing our stories. Ugh, I'm so glad we've reconnected because it's just like old times, and you're such an easy person to chat to, evil plans included. Thanks for sticking with Lewis until the end and here's to Tyson!
Tyler - Thank you for your messaging and your resilience, my determination could not come close to yours. Ever since we both met on Firefly's Assembling the Pieces forum, the two of us have been fast friends. We've both come so far since then, and yet we still support each other. I stan you so much, king, thank you for everything! I hope you enjoyed Izzy's story. I'm sorry I took my time, but I hope I was able to bring your vision to life.
Firefly - You know, I tell you all the time that you're the one who got me into this community, and I'll stand by it. Sure I read other stories before yours, but your story was the one that made me want to write SYOT's. Your brilliance, combined with your support even after I came back? Phenomenal. Your witty, sweet personality always makes me smile, and you're an absolute gem. I look forward to writing Enya, and I'm even more excited for CoT.
Tia - The fact you decided to read this story and yet you don't even have a tribute in it? Iconic. Thank you for reading through everything and following the story (even if I was evil!ben at times). You're the best, feel free to stab me with bra knives and cry over Vanity, I deserve it. I can't wait to write Vailea and tell her story too. I'm happy that you were able to come along on this journey and experience the madness!
I want to thank everyone for submitting their lovely characters to me for this story, but also to the Discord SYOT Verses server for just being generally wholesome. I wish I could list you all by name but there's too many of you to count and you're all brilliant. To anyone who's submitted the odd review here or there, thank you! I hope you enjoyed the story. Thank you to the excellent group of submitters for giving me such wonderful tributes to write. For those who have just been reading along, thank you as well. Thank you for taking an interest in my writing, and here's to the future!
It's over. It's really over. Well, I'll leave this dramatic and emotional A/N here for now. While this tale has been told, the next one has yet to finish. See you around, Picking Up The Pieces! Behave while I'm gone ;)
Over and out!
~Mental