Last Time in Damaged, Broken, and Unhinged:
I open the door of the bedroom to reveal a warzone. All three windows have been smashed in, sending shards of glass careening around the room. Rocks litter the floor, some with writing on them, some not. The remains of glass bottles are mixed in with the broken windows. They'd been filled with some kind of liquid. I wonder what. I take a deep breath and an unmistakeable smell assaults my nostrils: urine. The attackers threw urine-filled bottles into my house.
Tears fill my eyes as I take stock of the damage. The picture frames along the mantle have fallen to the floor, the protective glass shattering on impact. Anything nestled on windowsills is either broken or missing. But worst of all, the bags of tesserae grain which didn't fit into our cabinets have been ruined. Sliced open by flying glass and befouled by bodily fluids.
I sag against the doorframe, blinking back tears. We were barely making ends meet before. What am I going to do now?
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Damaged, Broken, and Unhinged
by RoseFyre & FanficAllergy
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Chapter Nine: Shadows on the Earth
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"There are dark shadows on the earth, but its lights are stronger in the contrast."
― Charles Dickens
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The worn bristles of our broom scrape over the faded and scratched wood floors of our main room, trying to pick up every last shard of glass. We've been at this for hours but from the glittering flecks highlighted by the cold winter sun, I know we still have a lot more cleanup to do.
At least Aven isn't here; if he were, I'd be worried about him getting cut or eating something he shouldn't. Prim and I dropped him off at Hazelle's first thing this morning. The woman gave us a funny look but didn't ask too many questions. Part of me wonders if she's already heard the rumors.
Because there will be rumors. There's no way our neighbors didn't hear the commotion or see the damage the attackers caused last night. The fact that no one came to our defense speaks volumes about just how vulnerable our predicament is. Things have gotten so bad that even the Seam doesn't care if we live or die.
I've always considered myself Seam. I have the Seam looks: black hair, gray eyes, olive skin. I grew up in the Seam. My father was a miner, my grandfather was a miner, and his father before him. The Seam stands up for each other, looks out for each other. In school, the separation is clear: Merchant versus Seam. The divide doesn't close when you become an adult, which is why my parents' love story is so unusual. Why Thom was so worried about asking Delly out. Why Hazelle was so wary of Peeta. It's always there, simmering under the surface. Merchant versus Seam. And right beside it is the hatred and distrust of all things Capitol.
My eyes are drawn to the pile of stones with insults like 'slut,' 'whore,' and 'traitor' painted on them in different handwriting. The invectives are directed at me. I can guess why. It's because I've been hanging out with Peeta. Because I've been seen with Darius. Because, in order to make sure my family survived, I was seen being friendly with Cray, and not just professionally. I approached him in the Hob and walked through town to pick up my reparations. To people not in the know, it may have looked like I was getting paid to be an informer. The words hurt, but even more, they're a warning. I'm not safe here. My family isn't safe. The Seam isn't safe.
This attack makes Darius's offer more tempting. Nobody messes with the Peacekeepers, not if they're smart. And as his companion, I'd be considered his property. His woman. No one would want to risk his wrath. However, it brings to light the very real concern of what would happen once I no longer have the red-haired Peacekeeper's protection. And what if we have children? What would happen to them? Prim and I already are outsiders because of our parentage. How would Darius's and my children be treated?
The answer isn't good.
I push thoughts of Darius's and my potential children away. I can't think about the future, not when I have to get through today.
Prim looks up from where she's picking through the ruined tesserae. She's trying to find grain we might be able to give to the chicken, which thankfully wasn't hurt or stolen in the attack. "What do we do now?" Her fingers have bandages wrapped around the tips where glass has punctured the skin. Next to her is a bucket filled with urine-soaked rags.
I don't have an answer.
She stands up, wiping her hands on her pants, leaving thin red streaks. "How are we going to live? There's no stove in the bedroom and, if you haven't noticed, it's freezing."
I keep sweeping. "I know, Prim."
"We aren't going to have enough food."
"I know, Prim."
"We don't have enough money to replace the windows or the food."
I sweep harder. "I know, Prim."
She crosses her arms. "So what are we gonna do about it?"
"If you've got any suggestions, I'm all ears."
"I could take out tess-"
"No!" Glaring at her, I throw the broom away, sending a piece of glass careening across the floor. "You're not taking out tesserae! Not now! Not ever! Think of something else!"
She stares at me in shock. I've never yelled at her like this before.
Taking several, steadying breaths, I retrieve the broom and resume my task. "Let's just get back to cleaning up, okay?" I'm embarrassed by how shaky my voice is.
Prim's face screws up in concentration. "You could go to Darius. Tell him what happened."
"And then what? What can he do? We didn't see who did this." I wave my hand at the mess. Even though we both skipped school to clean up, the house isn't anywhere near livable. I'm so frustrated, I forget myself. "We don't know anything! The Capitol doesn't care what happens to us. The Capitol's not going to pay to replace our tesserae grain. The Capitol isn't going to pay to fix our windows. The Capitol-" I pause mid-rant. Except, they might have already paid to fix our windows. I still have what's left of that bag of coins, the reparations from the Capitol. I hid it under a loose floorboard underneath my mother's bed. I was hoping to save it for an emergency.
I guess this qualifies.
I stop sweeping and set the broom up against the wall. "I'm going to town," I say abruptly.
"What? Why?"
"To get us windows." I don't want to go into detail so I keep talking, hoping to overwhelm her so she won't think to question where I'm getting the money to buy windows. "I need you to run to the Lindens'. They may already be at the Hob. They should help us."
It doesn't work. "Help us do what? What are you talking about? Where are you going to get windows? How are you going to pay for them?"
I don't have patience for my sister's questions, and I don't want her to know about the money. She'd want to know where it came from and that would mean telling her about Donaldson. "Just do it, Prim."
I can see my sister wants to argue, but I turn away, a clear indication that this conversation is over. I hear the front door slam a few moments later.
Once I'm sure Prim's gone, I scurry into the bedroom to gather my bag of coins. Over half of the one hundred coin I received in reparation is gone, used to pay for coal and other non-perishable necessities to last us for the rest of the season. But there should still be enough for what I need.
I consider my options, discarding going to the Hob almost immediately. Even if they have the supplies I need, which is doubtful, I don't want to feel the weight of hundreds of gray eyes staring at me, wondering if one of them threw stones at my house last night. Besides, the glazier is right by the carpenter on the far edge of town. He often has windows that aren't perfect enough for merchants or the Capitol lying around in his workshop. No one will question me buying three windows from him. At least, I hope they won't.
The real problem is what do I tell Prim? She knows the money I got from Cray is gone. And she doesn't know about the reparations or Darius's offer. And I intend to keep it that way.
I'll think of something. I have to.
I grab our little wagon and wheel it toward town. I think about the last time I used it, to get scraps to build the chicken coop. I'm glad we did that. The bird seems to have weathered the attack. I hope the hen continues laying until I can afford to buy a rooster.
The thought of money brings me back to my current predicament: what to tell Prim. Maybe I can claim I scavenged the windows from the Peacekeepers' barracks, or someplace else in town. It's implausible, but not completely impossible. The problem is that the story could be too easily checked, and my sister's become less trusting ever since our father died.
I suppose I could say I traded a favor for them, maybe a promise for a turkey or a brace of rabbits once the snow lifts. My father used to have that arrangement with some of the merchants in town. But it was always an unequal arrangement. And what if Prim tries to pay off the debt and finds out I lied?
Maybe I can just claim I went to Cray for the money. She wouldn't know I lied. But I'd have to spend tonight away from home.
Any story I come up with is going to have holes, but I can't tell her the truth. I just can't.
As I walk through town, whispers follow me. It seems everyone's already heard about what happened. Most of the people watching look at me with some form of pity, while others have pleased little smirks dancing over their lips. My mother's brother is one of the latter.
I do my best to ignore them all, but it doesn't stop me from hearing snatches of conversation. My name is repeated over and over, but I don't hear much else.
Was a merchant involved in the attack? Or are they just revelling in my disgrace? There's no way to know.
The glazier knows why I'm here, showing me to his discarded window pile without me having to ask. The red-faced man's blue eyes are sympathetic, and the price he lists is reasonable. Ten coin per window. Thirty coin total. I don't even need to bargain. I know a good deal when I hear it.
He makes sure to give me the straightest panes he has. I can barely make out the imperfections in the glass. A bubble here, a wave there. If I wasn't looking for them, I wouldn't see the flaws. These are worth way more than ten coin apiece, maybe even twice as much. I know he's discounting the price out of pity. But I don't have the heart to argue.
My purchases are wrapped up in sturdy padded canvas to protect them from the cold and the bumps along the way. The wrapping itself makes my decision to come to the glazier even more worthwhile. I can already think of several uses for the fabric, from rugs to heavy insulated curtains.
As I walk back through town with my head down, I reconsider what lie I can tell Prim. None of them are perfect. Maybe I should tell her the truth.
No.
She'll blame herself for not being able to protect me. Then she'll take out tesserae for sure. No, the truth is definitely out.
"Katniss, wait up!" Peeta's voice startles me.
I whirl to face him, my heart pounding.
He jogs up to me, pulling on his coat as he does so. "You okay?" he asks. "I-I heard about last night."
Peeta's heard about it already? But he was at school all day. The rumor mill's running even faster than I first thought. I wonder what people have been saying. I wonder why they think it happened. Part of me wants to ask Peeta who he's heard this from but I know it won't do any good. They'll have likely heard it from someone else.
"Nobody's hurt," I say instead. "We're fine."
"Really? You're not just saying that."
"No really." I hold up my hands. "Unless you count mine and Prim's fingers being punctured from cleaning up the glass."
Peeta frowns. "I do count it. I bet you haven't even cleaned them up."
He's right. I look at my fingers to see they've started to swell. The only reason they're not hurting more is the cold. "I'll do it when I get home. I need to get these windows back."
"We've got stuff back at the bakery. My brother Chet keeps us hip-deep in salves and ointments. It wouldn't take any time and it wouldn't be any trouble." He looks at me. "Please?"
I shake my head. "We've got stuff back home, too. My mom's a healer, you know. We've just been so busy, I forgot."
Peeta hums but doesn't push. "So other than your and Prim's fingers, your family's okay?"
"As much as can be expected, I guess." I pause. Peeta's back to being the kind boy he was before our fight. I realize I've missed that Peeta, and if I want him to stick around, I need to do more to encourage it. "Thanks for asking."
The tension in his shoulders eases just a little. "That's… that's good. I was worried about you. When Chet told me about your windows…" he trails off. "I'm sorry I wasn't there to help you." His eyes widen. "Not that you need my help, but it's just, you know, I like to help. I like helping you."
"It's okay," I cut off his babbling, slightly annoyed. I like the kindness, but I could do without the over-protectiveness. "If I needed help, I would've asked for it." Deliberately, I soften my tone. "But thanks for the offer."
He nods. "So… I'm on break right now. You mind if I, um, walk you home? As a friend. Just as a friend."
I shrug my shoulders. "Sure. I could really use a friend right now."
Peeta's lips turn up into a shy smile.
Along the way we talk, not about anything really, school and Thom and Delly's burgeoning relationship mostly. Nothing very deep or consequential. It's just what I need: something brainless to keep my thoughts from racing.
As we approach my house, I see the white uniform of a Peacekeeper standing next to my sister. My heart clenches in fear before my brain registers red hair. It's Darius. I wish I'd stop feeling so afraid every time I see a Peacekeeper. It's going to make living in Panem tougher than it already is.
The two spot Peeta and me and Prim flushes. I stifle a sigh. Prim must've run into him and told him what happened, but I wish she hadn't involved the Peacekeeper. Since my relationship with him may have been the impetus for the attack, Darius's involvement might make everything worse.
Not like I can tell either of them that.
Darius hurries over. "Prim told me about what happened. Do you have any idea who the vandals might be?"
I shake my head.
The Peacekeeper's eyes flick to Peeta and then back to me. He gestures at someone I didn't notice before: his partner, Purnia. "Purnia and I, we've, uh, bagged up the weapons they threw, as well as the rags."
The woman looks up from where she's examining the footprints and what looks like an empty bottle of white liquor near the chicken coop. She spots me and frowns, her eyes narrowing slightly. A shiver runs down my spine. I'm not sure if it's from the cold. She nods once at her partner, then goes back to what she was doing.
"Once we take your statement, we'll take this back to Headquarters," he continues, seemingly unaware of his partner's displeasure. "We have ways of determining who's at fault."
I don't have any doubt of that. The Capitol's got all sorts of technology that we don't. But I can't imagine them wasting their time on a nobody from the Seam.
"Do you really think you'll find the assholes who did this?" Peeta pipes up, his tone just the right mix of angry and grateful. "I don't like the thought of my cousins being treated like this."
I feel a wash of relief at Peeta's words. He's playing up our family relationship. I don't think Darius is the jealous type, but I'd rather not take any chances. Darius has been kind so far, but guys do weird things when they get jealous.
I'm doubly grateful when I note Darius's reaction. His eyes glitter protectively, a mirror of Peeta's.
"I promise you I'll do my best. And when we find the perpetrators," Darius clenches a gloved fist, "they will pay."
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After a cup of tea and a little stilted conversation, Peeta heads back to the bakery, leaving Darius and me alone. Purnia's still sorting out the evidence and I have no idea where Prim has disappeared to. She's probably afraid I'm going to yell at her for getting Darius and Purnia, and she's right.
Darius clears his throat, looking down into his half-finished tea. "I mean it, Katniss. I'm gonna have my whole squad looking into this. This kind of behavior is not acceptable."
"Don't. It'll just make it worse." I reach out to place a hand on his arm. "This was probably just a bunch of stupid kids looking for a cheap thrill. Can't go make out at the slag heap, so let's throw rocks at windows. Probably drunk, too. You know how it is." I'm deliberately downplaying the attack.
I wonder if it wasn't my ex-boyfriend Gale and his cronies, looking for a little fun. I know how much he hates the Capitol, and anyone he sees as collaborating with them. Add that to our already acrimonious breakup and you have a recipe for retaliation.
But I don't dare accuse him without proof.
Hazelle would never forgive me, not that I'd blame her. The problem is that I'd have to find someone else to take care of Aven. Hazelle's the cheapest. I wish I could drop out of school, I could probably run a daycare out of the house if I did, but Panem's got rules about that, and I don't qualify.
Pulling my hand back, I finish the rest of my tea. "You saw what the rocks had written on them. If you," I stress the word 'you,' "pursue this so hard and so diligently, they'll wonder what I did to warrant the Capitol's protection. So many people already hate the Capitol even though it isn't warranted," I hasten to add. "You don't need to give those people any more reason to hate the Capitol. In time, this will just blow over. They'll find something else to talk about and leave me alone."
The muscle in Darius's jaw twitches. "I suppose I don't have to write it up right now." He looks at me, his sea-green eyes pleading. "But I'm worried about you, Katniss. I worry about your safety. I promise not to push, but I know I can protect you."
"I know you can too," I agree. "But I just don't know if I'm ready for that level of commitment. I'm only fifteen."
He thins his lips. "At least let me pay for the windows."
I shake my head. "You've already done so much for me, Dar. I don't want to take advantage of you."
"It wouldn't be taking advantage."
"Yeah, it would." I pause and think about it, an idea forming. "If you really want to help, you could tell Prim you paid for the windows. She doesn't know about Donaldson or the money, and this way I wouldn't have to come up with a lie."
Darius's eyes darken. "Why is this your responsibility?" he asks slowly, glancing around the room. "Where is your mother?"
I freeze. That's the last thing I was expecting him to ask.
I don't have a story ready. I can't use my standard story, that she's out on a job. If she were, she'd be bringing in money, money Darius knows we don't have.
Darius just stares at me, waiting for the answer.
Finally, I take a deep breath and say, "She's sick. Really, really sick. She'll get better, I'm sure of it, but until then, I've got to take care of my family." It's the truth. Just not the full truth. I just hope he buys it without asking for proof.
He looks at me. I'm not sure if he's trying to read my mind, but it feels like he is. After a moment, his eyes flick around the room, pausing on Aven's carved bear. He looks at me again and slowly nods. "Is there anything I can do to help?"
I breathe a sigh of relief. "Thank you. You're already doing enough."
The words come out harsher than I want. But for some reason, I don't do anything to soften them.
Prim's not the only one who's becoming hard.
I am too.
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AN:
Written: 10/7/16
Revised: 11/14/16
Revised 2: 11/28/16
Betaread by: Amy & Xerxia
We know who broke the windows, but we'd be interested to see who you think it might be.
As you can see, Peeta is back but not entirely - he and Katniss are still on tenterhooks, figuring out where they stand with each other.
Things we Randomized:
- Nothing
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