I do not own 'The Hunger Games' or anything related.
With the 2 being taken care of by the mutts, Katniss turned to take a look at Peeta's wound. It was bleeding badly, and their supplies were back by the lake. She made a makeshift tourniquet with her remaining arrow and sleeve, using the rest of her shirt to tie up the leg. Peeta, concerned that she looked cold, gave her his jacket. I was thinking that the cornucopia must be ice cold now.
"Cato may win this thing yet," Katniss said to Peeta.
"Don't believe it," Replied Peeta.
I was glad that the boy and girl couldn't see what was happening in the cornucopia, as the mutts tore at the 2, going from begging to moaning to whimpering. And yet as horrific as it was, I couldn't turn to look away, and not because I had any desire for him to come to harm.
At times I glanced at the District 2 booth, at the expressions of the team. The escort was beside himself. It's not that District 2 hadn't been defeated before, but it was usually at the hands of 1 or 4, someone considered worthy. And definitely not 12, the lowest of the districts, in importance economically as well as for the games. Brutus and Enobaria were harder to read. Did they feel pity for their tributes? Were they angry? Insulted to be beaten, by 12 of all districts? Brutus connected with my eyesight. Yes. There was definite loathing. Not just being defeated by 12, but by tributes mentored by me, the man who murdered his big brother all those years ago. What would be the point in telling him that I tried to give him a quick and painless death?
It was about an hour that I finally gave in and ordered a drink. You were still able to order food during the night, in case you were the mentor taking the night shift. There was no more I could do now for them. Besides, it was going to be a long night, and I needed something to keep me up. Also, it had been over two weeks since I've had anything. I considered that quite a personal accomplishment. A part of me wondered if I should keep going. Maybe stop drinking altogether, or at least only drink when normal people drink, and not overboard. I definitely felt healthier than I have in years, and my mind felt more acute than it had been. No. I couldn't give up the drink. I had too much of a craving for it to give it up, or at least limit how often and how much I drank. Besides, I had too many demons to face without it. I've been able to hold them off as much as I have but I just know that even if I tried to go sober the hallucinations will return. It's happened to me before, whenever there's ever an issue with the liquor supply at the hob and there's no delivery. As I poured myself a glass, it took me a moment to be able to down it like I used to. Ah, that felt better. For a moment I asked myself why I even gave it up for over two weeks, before I realised it was because I needed to save the kids. Well, first the girl, then the boy as well when the opportunity came.
"Why don't they just kill him?" Peeta asked.
"You know why," Said Katniss.
And I do, too. Because no viewer could turn away from the show now. Although – I turned to Effie. Her mouth covered, her eyes did not show enjoyment. It was – horror? Horror at the hunger games, which was supposed to entertainment its citizens, to keep them appeased so that they didn't have to worry about the fact that they're living in a dictatorship, too. They may not suffer as we do, but that didn't mean they had freedom either. Just freedom from want. And unlike me, Effie was able to turn away, but at times she would look back, as if checking if it was over yet.
It had only just occurred to me. Does Effie even enjoy watching the Hunger Games? I mean even if she didn't have a vested interest? I know that's a strange thing to ask. The fact that Capitol citizens enjoy the Hunger Games is an accepted fact, and if I didn't know her, I wouldn't have question it. But I do know her, and I couldn't associate Effie, the woman who can't even stand the sight of vomit, with the fact that capitol citizens enjoy the blood and gore. And it's not just her. In all the times I've come to the Capitol, I've gained an understanding of the average citizen, who like her, are repulsed at the sight of anything filthy, yet supposedly enjoy the shedding of blood. Oh sure, no one objected to the games, and always expressed nothing but enthusiasm and excitement. But then of course even if they did have a problem they would only show nothing but enthusiasm and excitement, and definitely not criticise the games for fear of being labelled a traitor if they valued their freedom and their tongues. Oh, I was certain there were definitely those who did enjoy the games, but the average citizen? Perhaps it was different when the games first started, when the nation was younger and the capitol citizens were more accustomed to the shedding of blood, even enjoyment in it? But the current day citizen, in an age where they are surrounded by luxury and all the menial, distasteful work is done by others? I thought about some of the typical reactions I heard during the games:
"I nearly fainted!"
"I was getting my hair done!"
"I was in bed!"
Well, even though the Hunger Games was supposed to be watched full time, I guess you couldn't expect anyone to do that. Unless…could it be that they were making excuses to avoid watching it? I wondered if, perhaps in a way, the Hunger Games had become a form of torture for the average capitol citizen. Not the same way as it was for the rest of us (save 1, 2 and 4), but expected to watch blood and guts and gore and dismemberment for weeks, and show nothing but praise and dare not criticise what they watched. Perhaps, rather than entertaining the audience, the gamemakers had in fact lost in touch with what it was the audience actually wanted to watch.
But then, if the games truly were unpopular, then it would be known, right? Viewership was an important factor to measure the success of a games. But then who would dare not to watch the games and then reveal that fact by being randomly asked what did they think of the latest action?
I couldn't help but wonder. Perhaps a bit of romance was what the audience really wanted. Perhaps they desired to watch something other than just violence for once. If that was true, then it was no wonder the star-crossed lovers plot proved to be so popular! So popular in fact that they amended the rules just for it!
As the hours pass, however, my concern was not for Cato, but for Peeta. Every time he dozed off, like the girl I was worried that he would never wake up, every time she screamed his name it was as if I was screaming with her. Once they got through the day, and Cato died, then they can get him back and heal him, or at least do their best (I thought of my friend Chaff, and how he lost a hand that couldn't be replaced without a prosthetic replacement). But still, the way she yelled his name, I'm worried that if he did die, it would be as if I was worried she would go insane. He's fighting the dark, though, though I think more for her than him. When dawn came, I could see just how bloodless Peeta was. They needed to win fast. But Cato was still alive.
By the time the mutts were done with him, he was reduced to a chunk of flesh. Katniss, wondering how he was still alive, pressed her ear to the cornucopia.
"Katniss, can you shoot him?"
"My last arrow is in your tourniquet."
"Make it count."
Taking out the arrow (and tying the remainder as tighter as she could), Katniss bent over the mouth of the Cornucopia and saw Cato. Or at least, what was left of him. Cato made a sound, and I wonder if he was trying to say 'Please'. Katniss shot him threw the skull. The canon fired.
"YES!" I roared at the screen, standing up, punching my fist into the air. Probably not the best reaction after a boy's death, and Katniss and Peeta clearly took no pleasure in their victory, but I couldn't help it. Finally, after almost twenty-five years of failure, twenty-five years of dead children, I had finally saved not one, but two! Oh Ray, you beautiful hag, I could kiss you if you were still here! You were right! You were right about everything! And now the boy and the girl, no, Peeta and Katniss, can come home. Yes! Finally I can say their names deliberately in my head! Katniss and Peeta! Katniss Everdeen and Peeta Mellark! It felt so great to be able to!
Brutus didn't wait for the body to be collected. The moment the canon fired, he got up and stormed off, followed by a panicking escort. Enobaria, seeing no point in staying, also got up and left. I guess they really didn't care for their tributes. Before leaving the control room he gave me such a venomous glare. I wondered if he knew that I would be essentially retiring after this, whether he would continue to wage his vendetta against me against my tributes, or if he'll find it's not the same. When a reporter tried to get a comment from Brutus regarding his tributes' defeats he received a black eye. The escort, mortified, apologised profusely over Brutus' behaviour, but also expressed outrage over the defeat and criticised the trickery used to defeat Cato. Trickery. Enobaria simply expressed disappointment over Cato and Clove's defeats, and said that if it wasn't for the gamemakers giving into the romance Cato would have won. Not so sure about that. She was also confused over why Thresh had killed Clove but not Katniss. Yes, I bet you wouldn't understand.
Wait, something was wrong. Why hadn't their victory been announced? Peeta wondered if they needed to move away from the body, but that's not how it worked. They moved to the lake anyway, the remaining mutts having already exited the arena. As they drank from the lake, the hovercraft came and collected Cato's body, and left. However, still nothing. What was going on? To make matters worse, the wound on Peeta's leg had reopened, the makeshift tourniquet being used to finish off Cato. What was taking them so long? He didn't have much time left! Katniss looked around, as if looking for another makeshift tourniquet, and found an arrow she shot at Cato earlier. She was about to use this when Templesmith spoke again.
"Attention. The previous amendment has been revoked. After a closer examination of the rulebook, it has been decided that there can only be one winner. Good luck, and may the odds be ever in your favour."
Effie let out a scream, covering her mouth. The fire that I had felt had been extinguished. No. NO! It can't be. How could I have let myself be so duped? The Gamemakers never intended there to be more than one winner! This was all just to ramp up the emotion before giving the audience a dramatic final battle! And I fell for it! I was so eager to save both of them that I overlooked just how out of character it was for the gamemakers!
Katniss stared at Peeta in disbelief.
"If you think about it, it's not that surprisingly," He said to her.
I looked at Effie, her mouth still covered, shaking her head, muttering "No. No." How many must be feeling like her, right? Not any of the audience could be wanting this, right? I thought of bursting from my booth, going over to the gamemakers, trying to convince them that if they made Katniss and Peeta kill the other, then they may have a riot on their hands, not from the districts, but from the capitol itself, that the capitol audience did not want or wish to see one of them die, to toy with their emotions like this, to promise them that Katniss and Peeta could make it out together only to take that away from them at the last minute, that the 74th hunger games would go down as the most unpopular games in history, that they would all be executed for failing to entertain the capitol? But what were the chances of that? How could I possibly convince them that the capitol audience did not always want violence, that they wanted true love to conquer everything? If there was such a strong reaction from the audience, then that would only show that they succeeded, to give the hunger games such a tragic ending for the tributes was a sign of high art, that people would look back to these games and discuss about one of the greatest games that ever was, the greatest tragic love story of Katniss and Peeta, the star-crossed lovers. I should have known that with them being called star-crossed lovers would not end well, as it did with the pair that term originated with. After all, tributes' lives meant nothing to the gamemakers. We were just characters in the entertainment that they provided.
Peeta went for his knife, and by instinct, Katniss readied her bow and arrow. Peeta looked surprised. He tossed his knife away. Katniss also dropped her weapons, backing away in shame.
"No, do it," Peeta pleaded, putting the weapons back in Katniss' hands.
"I can't," Katniss shook her head, "I can't! I won't!"
"Do it. Before those mutts come back, or something else. I don't want to die like Cato."
Katniss begged him to kill her, to not leave her alone, and suddenly I'm reminded of Maysilee's own words to me when I was pretending to be dying. Peeta, however, wanted her to live, ripping off the bandage on his leg, letting the blood flow, Katniss trying to plaster it back on.
It didn't matter now that at least one tribute from District 12 could come home. I had both these kids enter my heart, accepted their names, when I had denied the tributes' names for so long. Oh who am I kidding? I grew attached to them long before that, Katniss, the moment she volunteered for her sister, for Peeta the moment he stood up to me. And that attachment had only grown all this time, no matter how much I tried to deny it. After keeping everyone at arm's length for so long, these kids entered my life. And now, one of them was going to be ripped from me, just like everyone else in my life! My victory had been tarnished. And I just knew the moment he dies, I'll have one more person who's memory I would be drinking to, one more revenant to torment me in my dreams. And there he was, pouring out his heart to her, a girl who even now didn't understand, thought it was still just an act, probably wouldn't even know this was how he truly felt until it was too late. The girl was thinking about something. Then I notice her take out the nightlocke berries.
Wait, what is she doing?
What is she doing?
I realised what it was she was planning.
"No Katniss, no!"
I stood up again.
"Katniss, please, don't! You don't know what you're doing!"
Peeta also tried to talk her out of her plan, but she asked him to trust her, and so they held out the berries, and held each other's hand. I tried to think. Tried to think of some way to communicate to her, to stop her going through with it. But there wasn't. Even with an appropriate gift, there wasn't enough time.
"On a count of three. One. Two. Three."
And they ate the berries.
The trumpets flared.
"STOP!" Templesmith cried out frantically, "Stop! Ladies and gentlemen, I give you Katniss Everdeen and Peeta Mellark, the victors of the 74th annual hunger games!"
At once Katniss and Peeta spat out the berries, having taken none of the juice. I fell back in my chair, and continued to stare at the screen.
Katniss, what have you done?
