Chapter 51- Terra Coppersmith
"Iry!"
"Terra, let's go upstairs," Shuttle says in a low voice, wrapping her arms around my shoulders. I shove her away, and I grab onto the desk like it's my lifeline. Iry's gone under the water for the second time; she has to come back up. She has to, she has to!
"Go upstairs," Woven repeats; I can feel her eyes on me.
"No! She'll come back up; she's going to!" The wave's taken out most of the island, and Iry's camp and gear are completely gone. We can send her more, just as soon as she gets back up to the surface. "Send her something, a boat, a lifejacket, something!"
She's not coming up.
"Do something!" I shriek, whirling around to look at my mentors. Woof's grim faced and not moving. "Send her a gift!" None of them are moving. "I'll send her something myself, if you won't!"
Just as I reach for the screen with the gifts, the whole station goes black.
No.
"Get her out of here," Woof says, somewhere in the distance.
No. No. Iry's not- she can't be-
Iry.
"No! No!" There's screaming, I think it's me, and somebody has their arms wrapped around me, pulling me back. "Let go of me! Iry!"
"Terra, come on," Shuttle says in my ear, and she's crying; she shouldn't be crying because Iry can't be, she can't possibly be-
"I'm so sorry." A cool hand touches my shoulder, and everything clears for a moment. Mags. Mags is sorry. And she's crying; Mags is crying, and Iry's not even her tribute. And if Mags is crying, she wouldn't lie to me, which means- which means-
My Iry's dead.
The room spins and suddenly I'm on the floor, and Shuttle's got her arms around me, and she's crying, and I can hear Woven and Woof somewhere behind me, a thousand miles away. "I'm sorry, I'm so sorry," Shuttle's telling me, but the words aren't going in.
Everything that Aero did, everything that I've done my whole life, it wasn't enough. She's gone. She's dead. My Iry is dead, and I failed her. I couldn't save her.
Oh my god, my sister is dead.
"Let's get you upstairs," Woven says, pulling at my arm, pulling me back up to standing. I don't see the Viewing Hall; I see a water filled jungle, I see a frozen landscape, I see everyone I've ever loved who are dead.
"I don't want to go," I say, and my face is wet, so I must be crying. Everything's turned off; nothing's real. Iry has to be alive, my sister, my sister is too alive to be dead. The screen's dark, but she's alright, she has to be, she has to be alive.
In a distant corner of wherever I am right now, I can hear a man speak; I know him; it's Aulus from District 2.
"I told you the kid wouldn't make it a week."
The world splinters apart, and I'm nothing.
I am nothing, absolutely nothing, because my Iry is dead.
They're pulling me, pulling me out of the Viewing Hall and into the elevator; the elevator doors close on us and it's me and Shuttle and Woven, but I don't care, I don't care, because Iry will never ride this elevator back up to the apartment.
I'll never take her home.
They pull me out of the elevator when it opens; my legs shake, but it doesn't matter. I lost them for Iry, and now she's lost to me. And the Capitol is to blame. They killed her, they murdered my sister.
"Did you see it?" An eager idiot in orange; it's Postumius. He didn't leave, he's still here. "Did you see her die?"
I don't even realize I've punched him until my knuckles sting and he's lying on the floor with blood pouring out of his broken nose.
"You killed her! You stupid, stupid people, you killed her!" I scream at him, before Shuttle grabs me by the arms and hauls me down the hallway towards my bedroom.
Iry was here, Iry came here before the Games started; she begged me to help her stay out of the arena. I should have helped her; we could have run away together and gone somewhere, anywhere; I should have mentored; I should have done whatever they told me to, because then she'd still be alive.
There's nothing left without Iry.
"Come on," Shuttle says, pulling me into my room. I don't get two feet in before my legs buckle and I fall onto the floor. I can't go home, I can't go anywhere, because of her, because she's dead. I can't believe- I can't-
Iry's gone forever.
"I'm so sorry, Terra," Shuttle says, kneeling down beside me. "I-" She breaks off and sobs, resting her forehead on my shoulder.
"She should have won," I whisper.
"She should have."
"They killed her. They didn't even think about it, and they killed her," I say, and my voice hitches in my throat.
"I know."
"She was only thirteen, Shuttle," I tell her, and then the tears break loose and I sob, curling over myself. Nothing's ever hurt this much; not frostbite, not losing my legs, not losing my parents or Fletcher even.
My family's gone, and I'm the only one left. Iry, Iry, my sweet little sister.
I should have done so much more to save you. I should have-
"I should have mentored," I sob, burying my face in my ruined hands. "It's my fault she's dead; I could have saved her. Shuttle, it's my fault."
"You did everything right. We were the ones who kept you away. We-" Shuttle breaks off and wipes her cheeks; her eyes are bright red and rimmed with tears. "It's all our faults."
Iry, my sister who I taught to look at the stars, who I saved from the factories, who danced and sang and was so alive, and wonderful, and the best parts of our family put together- they killed her without caring who she was; and the Capitol people just watched and didn't care either.
The pain tightens around my middle, and it's like that wave is washing over me, pulling me down and drowning me instead. "It should have been me," I say, curled over. "I should have died in the arena, and Iry would still be alive."
"Terra-" Shuttle starts, but I cut her off.
"Don't tell me it's not true!" I shout, grabbing my head so tight my nails dig into my skin. It hurts, but I need the pain. I need the pain, I deserve the pain because Iry's dead, and I couldn't save her from the arena, from the mutts, from the wave.
"Terra, listen to me," Shuttle says, and she's crying again. She loved Iry; we all loved my sister. And now she's-
We lost, how did we lose? Iry gone and drowned-
"They drowned her," I sob, digging my nails deeper into my scalp; it stings, I need it to sting. I want to feel that pain for the rest of my life, because it's tolerable compared to losing Iry, and that hurts so much more; it hurts.
Shuttle grabs my hands and pulls them away from my head; I try to pull away from her, but she has me in a vice like grip. "It's not your fault she's dead," she says, looking me dead in the eyes. "You did everything you could. We all did."
"It wasn't enough!"
"The Capitol killed her. Not you. And there wasn't a damn thing you could do about it."
"She can't be gone," I say, choking on my words again. "She can't."
"I know. I know," Shuttle says, and she starts to cry again, pulling me in towards her. For a moment, we sit together, each locked in our own grief, and I think maybe, maybe I can tolerate it, that I can handle my grief and not break apart.
Then the wave washes over me and pulls me under, to drown alongside my sister.