Chapter 3 – Luke
I woke up to a pounding on my door. The sudden sound made my blood run cold and I squeezed my eyes shut, breathing in deeply. I was home, in District Nine. Not the arena.
The sheets were twisted tightly around my legs, a sign that I had probably been having a nightmare. They had reached a peak when Juliet was in the arena, but in the past month they had finally started to lessen. I didn't think they would ever completely go away, but there were a few nights a week I could actually sleep.
The pounding started back up again, reminding me why I had woken up. Groaning, I rolled off the side of the bed, making my way down the staircase that was much larger than necessary. Sleep still clouded my vision and I was too tired to even think about what was on the other side of my door in the middle of the night.
Suddenly, I felt much more awake when I opened the door. Kit was standing on my porch, hand raised in a fist as she prepared to knock again. Hanging limply from her arm was Juliet, her hair falling in curtains around her face as she mumbled incoherently to herself.
"I found her…" The thirteen-year-old sniffled as she pleaded with me. Her face was blotchy from crying and she thrust Juliet out in front of her. "I can't bring her home like this."
The smell of booze that I had familiarized with Barrick slapped me in the face. I grimaced, taking Juliet into my arms. She lifted her head, eyes glossy and unfocused.
"No! No, no…" The small girl thrashed against me, pushing hard against my chest. I sighed, holding her tighter.
"I'll sort it out, Kit."
The younger girl nodded jerkily, dropping Juliet's bad onto the porch. We both winced as the sound of a bottle clattered against the cement. Kit's face turned angry and she stomped away, back down the pathway and across the street.
"No, no!" Juliet thrashed faster as Kit walked away. I pulled her backwards, shutting the door and turning on the nearest light.
"Get off me!" She twisted harshly, stronger than I thought she would be in her state. She fell to the floor with a loud thud and began crawling across the rug.
"What is wrong with you?" I shouted angrily, reaching down to pick her off the floor. She kicked out roughly and I pulled back in pain.
"Stop hurting me! I need…I need Luke." She gasped, her head falling to the floor as sobs began to rack her body.
I bent down in front of her, trying not to be hurt by the way she flinched away. "I'm right here."
Juliet looked up at my words, her mouth parting as she tried to focus her eyes. "Oh. Oh. There you are." She slurred, reaching up a hand to pat my cheek. "Please, don't let him hurt me."
"Come on, you're freezing." I put an arm under her knees, lifting her up bridal style and carrying her up the steps. She wasn't as frail as she had been when she first came out of the arena, but she was nowhere near as healthy as she was a year ago. Her head lulled to the side and she continued to mumble something I couldn't understand. I had dealt with drunk Barrick enough times after my Games to know the best ways to help, but it felt different with her. It made me angrier.
"Mmm…don't feel so good." She tried to lift her head up, but she only got halfway before she gave up, letting her neck fall back over my arm. I grimaced but changed direction to the bathroom rather than the bed. Gently, I lowered her to the ground and she crawled over to the toilet. She had barely reached it before she began heaving up whatever she had consumed.
"Oh Jules." I sighed, reaching forward to hold back her thick hair. There was a burning anger sparking in my chest, but I tried contain it. No matter how upset I was, there was no point arguing with her in this state. When I finally got her to the bed, her face was stained with tears.
"It hurts." She whimpered, squeezing her eyes shut.
I nodded sadly. "I know."
It was sad, but it didn't make this okay. After everything I had gone through and done to protect the people I care about, it didn't seem fair that she had just given up so easily when she still had people relying on her. I couldn't judge; everyone handled life after the Games differently, but this was the last thing I had expected from someone so strong. What happened during her trip to the Capitol that triggered this reaction?
Thinking about all the possibilities made my stomach flip. It wasn't right to take advantage of her drunken state, but I needed to know. I knelt by the edge of the bed, brushing her hair away from her face.
"Hey, look at me."
Juliet could barely open her eyes, but she attempted to make eye contact anyway.
"Why did you go to the Capitol, Jules?"
She squeezed her eyes shut but mumbled a response. "Interviews."
Relief blossomed in my chest. My plan had worked. I pressed my lips gently to her forehead and turned off the lights.
"Look who's finally up." My voice came out harsher than I meant it to, but I didn't feel bad. I poked roughly at the eggs on the stove top, pretending not to see her wince at the tone of my voice. I felt empathy for her situation last night, but now all I felt was disgust. I knew how difficult it was to adjust to the life of a victor, but I never would have thought she would have reached this point.
"I fucked up, okay? I already know. You don't need to tell me." She lingered in the doorway of the kitchen, her brown, puppy-dog eyes looking up at me. Something pooled in the pit of my stomach but I just contributed it to the anger.
"No, I don't think you understand. Do you even remember how you got to my house?" I questioned her angrily. As long as I've known Juliet, I've known Kit, the little girl who thought her sister could do no wrong. Juliet was her hero. And last night, it had been the thirteen-year-old who found Juliet in shambles. Judging by her guilty expression, she at least remembered that.
"I'm sorry, I just…needed something." She struggled, her voice quiet. The eggs were way over-cooked by now, but I was afraid if I looked anywhere but the stove I would snap.
When she didn't get a response from me, she stepped further into the kitchen. "Why are you so angry at me?"
"Dammit, Juliet. It's because you were being selfish. Everyone wants something to make the pain go away. But we have people relying on us to be strong. It's not about you anymore, it's about everyone else affected by this." I turned off the stove and crossed by arms, steeling my expression as I made eye contact with her across the kitchen.
"How would you have felt if I was too drunk to even mentor you?" I hissed between my teeth, biting harshly at my lip. I knew it was a low blow, but it seemed like lately I couldn't keep my emotions in check.
"I'm sorry." Tears pooled up in her eyes and she looked down. Her voice was quiet and broken, and the anger in my chest dissipated slightly.
"You're forgetting that I'm your best friend. And that I literally understand exactly what you're going through. I'm trying to be here for you, you just need to let me."
She nodded at the ground, wiping quickly at her face. In all the long years that I had known Juliet, I only saw her cry a handful of times. In past few months, we had both shown a lot more emotion than I was used to. The Capitol had broken us down and spit us out as shells of ourselves. I didn't want to be tough on her or make her cry, but I wouldn't allow her to let them win.
I stayed quiet and turned back toward the burnt eggs, putting them on a plate and holding them out to her. It wasn't quite an acceptable apology, but it was the best I could do. She slowly grabbed the plate, moving to take a seat at the table. I sat down across from her, watching as she picked at her breakfast. I sighed, running my fingers through my hair.
"Listen, if you're going to take of yourself, you need to start with actually eating." It was no secret that she had lost even more weight since her time in the arena. She was thin before, but always muscular. Now, she looked like skin and bones.
She glared at me, her eyes rimmed with red, but she shoved some down her throat.
"If you want me to eat, maybe you shouldn't burn the eggs." She shot back at me through a mouthful, causing the corners of my mouth to turn up in amusement. I didn't know if we would ever be able to go back to the way they used to be, but at least the constant tension between us had lessened slightly.
Once she had finished the plate, she placed it in the sink and looked around the kitchen for the first time. "Where's your family?"
I shifted uncomfortably in my seat, the lonely feeling in my gut growing as I thought about her question. "They, uh, decided they felt more comfortable back at the old house."
Juliet frowned, her dark eyes analyzing an old picture of me and my brother that hung above the stove. "Why?"
"Not everyone wants what the Capitol has to offer." I stated bitterly. I wasn't upset with my family, but I knew they were trying to distance themselves from the Capitol as much as possible. Unfortunately, I wasn't allowed that luxury. As always, Juliet picked up on the actual emotion I hid underneath my bitterness and annoyed front.
She smiled sadly and pulled herself up to sit on the kitchen counter, swinging her legs in the air. "Clearly we need each other."
I rolled my eyes but grinned at her anyway, getting up from seat and moving to lean against the counter next to her. I felt guilty for yelling at her earlier, but it seemed that we had reached an unspoken understanding.
Juliet must have found one of my oversized sweaters, and practically engulfed her tiny body. Her dark hair was piled into a large bun on the top of her head. Suddenly, I had an odd urge to smooth away the strands that fell into her face, but I clasped my hands into fists hard enough that my nails dug into my palms. The neckline of the sweater fell over her shoulder, exposing her bare collar bone. My first reaction was to look away before I was caught staring, but I noticed something different.
"Your scar is gone." I pointed out dumbly, motioning to the smooth skin across her collar bone. I tried not to think about how she had gotten that scar in the first place, but the image of Atlas cutting her up against the tree played like a movie in my brain and I felt nauseous.
Juliet shrugged, pulling the sweater back up over her shoulder. "They weren't sure if they could get rid of it at first, but they figured it out."
She leaned in toward me, holding out her left arm. "I did keep one, though." Yanking up her sleeve, she displayed the thin, jagged line across her forearm. It wasn't quite as long as mine, but it was just as deep. My breath caught as my gaze automatically flew to my right forearm, where my own scar stood white against my skin.
I brought my hand up to trace her scar, feeling as she tensed beneath me. I now understood her fascination with mine, back when I had first returned and we had tried to rebuild our friendship. Back then, she hadn't understood why I didn't let the Capitol heal my scar. I could see it in her eyes now, that just like me, she needed the reminder.
"As if back to back victors wasn't cheesy enough, now we have matching scars." I breathed out jokingly to ease the tension, but it did little to calm my pounding heart. She looked up at me, her lips twitching upward. I couldn't stop staring at her mouth, wanting nothing more to kiss her like I had before. No matter how much I had tried to keep her at a distance or find fault with her, it only made it more difficult to not drop everything and scoop her into my arms.
I could practically hear my heart pounding as her lips parted, but I didn't give her the chance to say anything.
"You should go find Kit and do damage control." I flung myself away from the counter, pretending not to notice as her face fell at my suddenly cold tone. I busied myself with rinsing her plate in the sink.
"Yeah, okay." I heard a light thud as she hopped off the counter, stepping toward the door.
The footsteps stopped as she lingered awkwardly for a minute. "See you later."
Once the door had shut, I knew it was safe for me to stop scrubbing at the already clean dish. I turned off the sink, breathing out slowly as I watched the water swirl down the drain. Now, more than ever, I wish things could go back to the way they were before the 72nd Hunger Games.