Chapter 74- Astrid Clearwater
I can't.
I can't.
I can't.
I can't breathe. I can't think; I can't-
Not after today. My thoughts splinter out and come back together again, over and over; it's like the night in the street, but nobody's attacked me. Not in months. My shaking fingers are knotted into my hair; I'm going to pull every red strand out, but I don't care. I can't handle anything right now, and I have to get control back. I have to, I have to.
I can feel it, that knife cutting through the months and all the time since the Games, to open my forehead with a satisfied smile. I'm not weak, I'm not weak, I'm not weak, but I can still feel it; I can still see her, and she's sitting on my chest and digging her foot into my broken leg.
Abruptly, I pull my hands out of my loose and tangled hair, and grab the nearest blanket, stuffing it into my mouth; I gag on it, but the scream that's been growing inside me since this morning has to come out, and they can't hear, they can't know; I scream, muffled, into the blanket, and I scream and scream and scream-
"Hammer and stone; District 2 is known for their quarries," Beetee says, watching me stare at the seal burned into the right-hand door. "Of course, you must have known that from school."
"Well, they are very thorough," I say, not looking at him. How can they not be thorough? We're supposed to be the smart ones; the smart district. Brains over strength, but we know how well it works every year. Brain's only beaten strength three times, which means I'm smarter than thirty-eight years of District 3 tributes.
I should feel proud. I am proud. Because I was better and stronger than thirty-eight years' worth of District 3 tributes, and stronger than twenty-three tributes in the arena. Including District 2.
Right behind those doors is District 2. Where they were from. One tribute that I killed, the other that almost killed me. No matter what, it's District 3's fault that their tributes aren't touring the districts in my place.
Breathe, Astrid. No weakness.
I won't show any weakness to District 2. No matter what. I won't ever give them that satisfaction, and I won't give Beetee any more ideas about me being weak. Because I'm not. I'm unbreakable, and Agrippina didn't break me. Neither did Circuit, or his father.
The other victors might have broken, but I haven't. And I won't. I'm better than that.
"You will enjoy meeting the victors after your speech," Beetee continues, but I'm barely listening to him. Why should I listen to someone who's lied to me so often that it took another victor from another district to give me a clue as to what the secret he's hiding from me is? What they're all hiding from me?
Mags might have lied to me a thousand times yesterday, because I didn't, and don't, trust her, but I know she was telling me the truth with her last words outside the Justice Building.
"They'll come looking for you, Astrid, and they won't mean well. Make the right decision."
If Beetee would tell me what the decision is that I'm going to have to make, then my trust in him might increase. But he hasn't, and I won't trust him. It's ironic that another district's victor has been a better ally than my own mentor has. Even though Mags wasn't my ally, and I still don't trust her.
I doubt I'll trust any of the victors from 2 either. I know I won't.
"Read from the cards, and don't bend them!" Delia sings out, passing me the four stiff pieces of paper that have the Capitol's lies printed on them. Lies that I'm expected to read out in front of District 2. They won't believe what I'm saying, and I won't either. Why would we? When has the Capitol ever not lied to us?
The only time they've ever told the truth is when they promised that twenty-three of us would die in the arena.
"I'll read them and I won't bend them," I say, stepping away slightly to the side. Even though Delia hasn't touched me since District 6, I still don't like her getting too close. The closest I'll let her get is when I finally get to touch that blue wig of hers. Her blue painted lips stand out from the rest of her painted white face today, and her eyes are overdone in large blue swirls edging out from the corners of her eyelids.
Horrible. Even though District 3 hates me, and the city blocks out the stars, at least we don't dress like her there. Or any other Capitolite.
"Enjoy yourself!" Delia sings out just as the anthem starts to play outside the doors.
Breathe.
"Oh, I will," I say, holding my head high and looking directly at Beetee. "I'll enjoy this very much."
The doors open and my feet start moving forward automatically, but my eyes are still locked on Beetee. I don't know what he's thinking; his face is too hard to read. But I don't think he believes me.
I'll make him believe me.
As soon as I step into the bright white light of the stage, I beam at the audience watching me from below. It's gently snowing; when I look down, I can see soft white flakes melting into the stonework of my jacket. For one moment, I'm back in District 7, in the woods filled with snow and cardinals; the world silent except for one high birdsong.
I've let Elowyn go, and I need to let her district go too. I'm supposed to love technology, not snowy branches and the slim hope of escape.
The clapping of the audience drumming in my ears brings my head back out of the snow filled woods, and back onto the stage in District 2. I don't want to be here; I don't want to see these people.
What I want to do is run, but I won't let myself. Career victors don't run, and it's only the weak victors that are hauled offstage because they couldn't handle it. I'm okay. I'm fine.
Even though I'm not looking at them, I can feel my hands shaking, but I hold the cards as steady as I can. I'm fine. Just cold. "People of District 2," I start in a wavering voice. "Thank you for welcoming me here with open arms." I cough, trying to stop that horrible shaking that's coming out of my mouth. I'm supposed to be strong, so I have to make my voice sound like it too.
My eyes look up from the cards and, even though I don't mean to, I make eye contact with the people below me, filling the square. A few faces stand out; a woman whose hair is tied in a kerchief and whose face is lined with deep wrinkles. A girl in red with blonde hair hanging over her shoulder. A man, taller than the rest of the crowd, standing with his arms crossed. And every single face looking at me has hatred written into it, barely disguised behind their eyes.
I'm not stupid. I knew they would hate me, but the fact that they're looking me in the eye and wishing I was dead is trying to break the indestructible part inside of me. They can't hurt me; I'll never see them again as soon as I get off this stage and onto the train.
No weakness.
My right leg shakes under me, the one that was broken; the one that Agrippina pushed her foot into-
I'm fine. I'm not weak.
"How do we measure the courage of a tribute? Your tributes that you so bravely offered up fought valiantly, and so their courage was measureless. To send your children as tributes, and for your children to enter the arena hoping to be champions, is the test of ultimate courage. Panem expected nothing less than that, and you have surpassed all expectations."
They're all lies, and the Capitol is using me to give them to District 2. Panic is starting to well up inside of me, and I have to fight it down. I can't lose control. I'm perfectly in control. I'm fine. Just fine. So I lift my chin up and look at the crowd, to show them I'm not scared of them. I'm the Career victor that was better than all the other Career victors, because if they were stronger than me, they would be standing here instead.
I know they hate me for killing their tributes, and for winning, but I don't care. I have to not care. That stone part inside of me is staying unbroken, and I won't let anyone shatter it.
Breathe.
"Your tributes were in the final four, and so they were among the bravest of twenty-four who entered the arena a week prior. Your pride in your tributes must be limitless, and the Capitol thanks you for your sacrifice."
I feel sick to my stomach, like I did riding the elevator in the Capitol. Just being here in District 2 is painful, and I want it to be over. I want to see District 2 disappearing around a corner forever, so that I'll never have to see it again.
"When I was in the arena, I respected both of your tributes for their strength and skill. Both of them were talented, and it was a privilege to know them both."
Don't be sick. I will not vomit on this stage. No weakness.
My eyes flit to the left just as I take a shaky breath to keep reading, but a stabbing pain shoots through my head when I see Dominicus smirking at me from his oversized banner; the same headshot that was projected for his scores before the Games started.
The last time I saw his face in person was when I put an axe directly into his head. I still remember the feeling; the feeling of turning and letting the axe fly from my hand, knowing that it would meet its mark. I knew when I let the axe go that I would kill Dominicus, and right now, seeing his face, I don't feel a second of remorse for it.
He and Agrippina killed Elowyn. I just paid him back for it. It was Agrippina who threw the knife into Elowyn's throat, but he was her ally, and he was District 2, and I don't care that I killed him. I don't. He's just as dead as Tilling and Elowyn are, and it's because of me.
I'm not sorry.
"Dominicus Sorce was a formidable tribute; a volunteer who rose up above his allies and landed in the final four," I start again, my voice steady this time.
A formidable tribute. He was a rat-like boy who needed to be killed, because the Capitol wouldn't have loved him as a victor anyway. I hated him in Training, and I hate him right now, looking at his banner. I don't even feel sorry for his family standing under it, stoic and unfeeling too.
I doubt they mourn their son, not here in District 2 where all they do is offer volunteers up to die or win. I hate them too. I hate this whole district, from their mines to their mountains to their people hating me in return, standing in their city square with every eye fixed on me.
"Agrippina," I start, then finally look to the right.
She's there, she's there, she's not real, but she's looking at me, smiling. She's smiling at me, but I know what she's really thinking. She's going to-
I choke on my words; she's looking at me like she did before she knocked me to the ground and dragged her knife through my forehead. Black hair touching her chin, dark blue eyes staring at me through the half a year it's been since the Games ended. Since she tortured me and Circuit killed her.
I can almost see the mutts circling us; Elowyn dead next to me; Dominicus dead with my axe in his head. Just Agrippina standing by a tree with a bloodstained jacket and a silver knife shining in the early arena light.
Breathe, Astrid.
My mouth opens, but I can't get any words out; I'm fragmenting out, shattering into a thousand pieces, and I can't grab them all. I can't think, I can't think, and I can't say any of the lies on the cards.
She cut me, and she tried to kill me. I can't see her again; I'm going to scream, I'm going to lose control, and I can't, I can't.
No weakness, no weakness, no weakness, no weakness.
She cut me, and now she's looking at me like she'd like to dig her knife into my face again. Open more cuts; torture me until I have no face left. She wanted to make me scream; to carve my face into patterns until I died.
She almost killed me. She was going to kill me.
She-
"Ahem." The mayor's looking at me curiously, but I still can't breathe.
I'm shaking all over, and the only thought I can grab is that I'm closer to tears than I have been since the Games ended. Victors don't cry. I need to get the rest of my thoughts together, but the ones that keep surfacing are the memories of Agrippina's knife cutting into my forehead, and I want to vomit.
I cough, to cover up the break in my speech. My wits come back together just enough that I can finish the speech; shards like glass that are hastily pieced in a fragile sculpture in my mind. The rest are still scattered, but I have enough to get through this speech.
"Agrippina wasn't a volunteer, but she fought just as bravely as if she were one," I manage to continue, but I can hear my voice, and it's scratchy and hoarse. I can't lose control; not now, not in this district. I can't cry in front of everyone, and not in front of Beetee. I won't let them see me cry. They can't see me as weak; Agrippina almost killed me, but she didn't break me; I'm unbreakable.
I swear I'm unbreakable.
"She was a clever, ruthless tribute, and the Capitol thanks you for offering up your daughter in tribute to the Games. Through your generosity, the Capitol will be benevolent forever, to both your district, mine, and all others in Panem. Thank you again, District 2, for helping to ensure Panem's future."
A scream is building inside of me, and those glass fragments shatter again, leaving me with nothing. I can't think of what to say, what to do, anything. All I feel is the snow falling around me and the panic of needing to run.
"Thank you, Astrid Clearwater!" the mayor says in a cheerful voice, and I try to smile, but I'm still shaking. Agrippina's still looking at me, and her eyes tell me she wants me dead. I don't want her to hurt me; I don't want to hurt anymore.
No weakness.
She's not breaking me. She can't. She's dead.
A sharp pain shoots through my head, making me almost double over and press my hands over my ears, but I stop myself in time. It's like I'm back in the street that one night; I couldn't think clearly then either.
For one insane second I want Beetee to help me, but then I remember that I can't trust him. I don't have anyone to help me except for myself. I have to get through this alone, because that's what victors do, and I don't have any choice. I'm Astrid Clearwater, the victor, and my only ally is myself.
I can hear the mayor making a speech all about my victory, but the words don't mean anything to me. I'm too busy trying to scramble and pick all of my thoughts up off of the bottom of my mind, because my head is cloudy and I still can't think straight. They promised me that my concussion would be gone by December, and it has been gone, but seeing Agrippina watching me has brought all the pain back.
Two boys and a girl come onto the stage from the right and hand me a bouquet of flowers, wrapped in paper painted to look like stone. Like my jacket. I can hear myself thank them, but I don't know what else I've said. I'm smiling, I'm still the victor. I can do this.
I don't want this bouquet; Delia can take it and throw it as far away from here as she can for all I care. I don't want or need anything from District 2, because anything they give me is from Agrippina Crass, the girl who tried to murder me in the arena.
Dominicus Sorce deserved to die, and I'm glad I killed him.
The anthem finally swells, so loud that I can feel it in my bones, and I'm swept backwards towards the opening doors by the mayor, accompanied by the cheers of District 2. I know they're not cheers; they're cries for my death.
I didn't want to die in the arena. I didn't. But hearing every district, including my own, scream for my blood, makes me wonder if it was worth it.
It was. I'm alive. I'm District 3's first female victor. And none of them broke me.
"So you're the one."
The doors shut behind me with a bang, and I'm face to face with a shaggy haired man who's looking at me aggressively. "You're the one who killed my boy."
All at once, my mind comes back into play and I pull myself up to my full height, tossing my bouquet at Delia without looking at her. "It wasn't as though he didn't deserve it," I snap.
I have to keep in control, but I'm not going to lie to him either. I killed his boy; I killed Dominicus, and I don't feel a moment of regret for it.
"He could have won if it wasn't for you," he says, pointing a finger at me.
"Your girl would have killed him first." Breathe, Astrid. Keep in control.
"Aulus, stop," a tall woman says, glaring at the man who's been accusing me of murder. We both know I did it, but Dominicus killed tributes too, and I was just the one who stopped him. He was just as much a murderer as I am.
Don't scream.
The Capitol wants their show, and a victor losing control isn't giving a good performance. That's all this has ever been; a performance for those stupid, shallow people in the mountains. So I lift my chin and smile at this woman, this new victor who's sticking her hand out to me and smiling back.
"Victoria Fieldman," she says; the last thing I want to do is touch a District 2 victor, but they've already seen my cracks when I paused onstage. Those sharp stabbing pains are still going through my head, each one like a cut from a knife-
Breathe.
"Pleased to meet you," I say as cheerfully as I can, shaking her hand with two quick movements. I have to look up to see her face; she's one of the tallest victors that I've met. Ripple's the only one that comes to mind that rivals her in height.
Another woman, this one with straight brown hair and a scowl, steps forward from where she was talking to another victor, and looks me up and down. Her nose is slightly crooked, as though it was broken a long time ago and never fixed properly.
I need relief. I need the fire to burn out, but the flames are just getting higher, and a scream is still building inside of me, waiting to be let out when I've burnt too badly to keep it in any longer.
"Not much, are you?"
"Better than your tributes," I snap. My mind is threatening to fragment out again, and I have to keep it together.
I can't break apart. I can't. But I keep seeing her face in my head; her face hanging over me with a silver knife in her hand. Her face that was streaked with my blood.
The pieces are everywhere in my head, and I can't pick them all up. I'm still fracturing out, and I can't think, can't think at all.
"Quit it, Athena!" District 2 has too many victors, all of them circling around me just like they did in District 3 that one night, penning me in with Circuit's father. My fingers twitch, almost going to my cheek where he punched me, but I don't let them.
"She killed Aggie, Pompeia!" Athena snaps back. Pompeia, a woman with deep set eyes and dark hair that falls over the right side of her face, glares at her.
But I didn't kill Agrippina. Circuit did.
"Well, I don't see why you should be kicking up a fuss about it! If she didn't win, then she wasn't the best, now was she?" Pompeia's voice is too high-pitched; it's almost like the Capitol accent, but screechier. I'm suddenly thankful for Beetee; my thoughts come together enough to appreciate that even though he lies to me, he doesn't lie to me in a voice like Pompeia's.
Pompeia and Circuit's stylist Pompey. Two people with similar names that I dislike and hope to never see again.
"Shut up, both of you. Victors, more like children," another woman says, grabbing Pompeia's arm and shaking it.
"I got you out of the arena, Blade, so don't you talk to me like that!" Pompeia says, pulling away from the other woman.
"Just because you were training Minerva doesn't mean that you can disrespect Aggie," Victoria says, and the other three victors fall silent.
I'm still fighting the tears back, and my throat is choked again. Breathe. Just breathe.
Her hair was falling forward, but I could still see her face. And I can still feel the need of wanting it to be over; that even though I didn't want to die, it would be better than letting her carve my face until there was nothing left.
Don't cry.
"You didn't do a good job of training Minerva, now did you, Pompeia?" Aulus says, looking over from where he's started a conversation with Beetee. My mind comes together enough for me to tell that Beetee doesn't like Aulus anymore than I do.
"I did my best!" Pompeia pouts, crossing her arms.
"If you actually did your best, then she would have volunteered."
"She was supposed to; we discussed it!"
"And you sent my girl into the arena instead?" Athena asks, and for a moment, I can hear the pain in her voice. Agrippina was a year younger than I was, and smaller than I was too, and somehow, she still knocked me to the ground and pulled out that knife.
"I told you, it wasn't my fault!" Pompeia screeches.
I hate them. I hate all of these victors.
"Do better next time," Aulus says, and his voice lowers. "I don't want to do it again, do you hear?"
"We gave you a fair chance at it, Pompeia," Victoria says, crossing her arms. "Next year we're going back to letting them fight for it. We don't want another Minerva."
"Good riddance," Aulus mutters. "She deserved what she got; the little coward."
I remember, when I watched the recap, that Agrippina was determined to kill this Minerva girl, who didn't volunteer. Now it seems very apparent that her mentors killed her themselves.
Breathe.
There's a ring of District 2 victors around me, but all I can see is Agrippina Crass's face leaning over mine, as she pins me down so that I can't move. My hands empty, and her face smeared with my blood. My own warm blood snaking into my eyes so that I can't see; can't see Circuit strangling her.
I can't cry, I won't let myself cry. Victors don't cry.
"Astrid, Sparkle's waiting for you!" Delia says. For the first time on this tour, I'm actually happy to have Delia telling me what to do. Anything to get away from these victors, who offer their tributes up to be killed, and kill the ones who don't volunteer as well.
I want to get on the train and leave District 2, and all the memories of Agrippina Crass behind me.
"I'll rip your throat out when we get into the arena."
That was the first thing she ever said to me when we were in Training. I watched her for those three days; she never missed the target with her knives.
Knives that she would drag through my face later-
Why did she want me? Out of all of us, why did she look for me for seven days? And in a horribly strange way, I owe Circuit for killing her, because if he hadn't, she would have killed me. But then he tried to kill me too.
It just goes around and around in circles, and I can't get out of the loops. My mind is still shattering out, and I can't even grab at the pieces anymore. They keep sliding out of my grasp, and it's all I can do to walk up the stairs to where Sparkle's waiting for me.
I'm not weak. I'm not. I just can't think. But I can feel Beetee's eyes studying me as I climb the stairs one by one. I'm not going to give him the satisfaction of watching my head splinter apart.
I won't.
Pompeia and Athena are arguing again across the room, but nobody else is paying them any attention. Beetee is talking to Blade and the mayor's husband on the opposite side, and Aulus is drinking a brimming glassful of wine at another table.
The mayor's parlor, where I'm currently sitting, is pretty, I'll admit that. Green wallpaper with gold curlicues running through it; paintings of flowers and landscapes on the walls. I wonder how they painted the ocean when nobody except the victors from this district has ever been to District 4. Maybe one of the other districts made it.
My head hurts, and all I want to do is leave. That scream is still building inside of me, and I don't want to be here, in this district where her memory is everywhere. Agrippina is hanging over me, and she's still sitting on my chest smiling down on me.
I want to go home, but I don't. Because home doesn't want me either.
"Come and dance with me."
I whip around and look up at Victoria Fieldman, smiling down at me. I don't want to dance with her; I don't even want to talk to her. She's District 2; that's enough for me.
"I can't dance."
"Well, you can come and stand up for a few minutes," Victoria says, holding her hand out. I'm not weak. I'm not afraid. I don't want to go with her, but I can feel Beetee watching me again, and I can't show him any weakness. Ever.
"Alright," I say, beaming at Victoria and letting her help me up. A stabbing pain shoots through my head again, but I don't wince. I don't do anything but smile and follow after the District 2 victor who's making me visit with the rest of her despicable district.
I hate them all. I hate the officials dancing in the middle; I hate the mayor; I hate the victors. This district has no love for me, and I don't have any for them either.
She never missed. Not once. And she threw a knife into Kiril's leg too. All the Careers are dead, and Panem should be grateful for it. I'm a Career victor, and I only killed two boys. And left Tilling to drown.
Tilling, who drowned me again in my dream last night, but her hands weren't corpse hands this time. They were her own hands, and I could hear her screaming something, but I don't know what she said through the black water that filled my lungs and ears.
I left her, and no matter what her mother might think or forgive, I killed her daughter too.
"Are you enjoying your Tour?"
My head snaps towards Victoria, pulling myself out of my cloudy mind. I'm lost again, and I have to try to find myself, or I'm never going to make it through the rest of the Victory Tour.
"I love seeing all the different districts," I answer, still beaming at her. She might be a District 2 victor, but looking at her, I can tell she's smart too. Throughout this Tour, I've met broken victors, but there have also been victors who are still sharp, who are functioning enough to make alliances even out of the Games. Who are smart enough to win, and outsmart the Capitol.
I have to be smarter than all of them.
"Which district have you liked best so far?" Victoria asks, pulling a glass off of a tray carried by a man in blue. Not an Avox. We don't have Avoxes in the districts. Not in 3 anyway.
"District 7. For the trees," I say before I can stop myself. Victoria smiles and takes a sip from her glass.
"You don't find many of them in District 3, now do you?" I shake my head.
"We have more Beetees than trees," I say, and beam at her again.
I'm not lost. I'm fine. I'm fine.
When is the clock going to turn to one?
"Are you going to be a Beetee?" Victoria asks.
"I'm not sure yet. I am going to attend our University," I say, holding my head higher. "Beetee thinks I have the brains for it, and I agree with him."
"Then here's to the newest Beetee in Panem," Victoria says, and raises her glass to me.
"Victoria!" Pompeia stomps over, hands clenched like she's a child. "Athena is still going on about Minerva! You know I trained her properly!"
"You have been arguing about Minerva for six months. She's dead, Aggie's dead; move on. You still have Tacitus and Lucia."
"You and Aulus got the good tributes!" Pompeia whines. If I could, if I snapped enough, I would kill her, right here and now.
"You picked them, Pompeia."
"You two got the best ones first!"
"Who?" Victoria asks, placing her glass down on a nearby table and crossing her arms. "Tell me exactly who you didn't get."
Pompeia starts naming them and counting off her fingers. "Longina, Corippus, Caro, Fabia, Brutus, Drusa, Valeria. That's who I didn't get."
"Pick faster next time," Victoria says. "You're thirty, Pompeia. Stop acting like you're three."
"Victoria!" Pompeia almost yells.
These people, these are the people who trained Agrippina to kill; to throw the knives that killed Elowyn, who taught her to torture first and kill later. These idiots are responsible, and if I could, I would kill them all, because they learned nothing from the arena.
"Astrid!" Delia sings out, tottering towards me with a glass in her hand. "Say your goodbyes; the train won't wait for us!"
"Lovely meeting you," I say, nodding to Victoria. I can hear Pompeia stomp her foot, but I don't even pay attention to her. It's taking everything I have to focus on Victoria without shattering completely onto the floor.
"Perhaps we will be allies in July," Victoria says, and she smiles.
Allies? District 3 has never allied with District 2, and I'll never ally with Victoria or any of her other victors.
I'd rather see my tributes die first than ally with District 2.
"Astrid!"
"July," I say, then start towards Delia. I've almost reached the door when somebody grabs my arm and spins me around.
Let go, let go, let go.
"I know you killed them," Aulus Buteo says; I can smell the alcohol on his breath, and I want to pull away, but he has my arm too tight. I'm going to kill him too, I'm going to-
"You killed my boy, and your district killed my girl. I have one thing to say to that, Astrid, and that's that she should have cut you deeper."
I'm shattering out; glass pieces on the floor and the girl who wanted me dead still alive in front of me. I need to scream; I need to scream-
Aulus Buteo-
"Come, Astrid."
Aulus shoves me away, but he doesn't stop looking at me; conveying all the hatred he has for me directly into my splintered head.
I'm not weak, I swear I'm not.
But he watched Agrippina torture me, and he wanted her to. He wanted me to be cut apart, to scream for the whole world to hear.
"Astrid," Beetee says quietly; he can't see me shattered. He can't. But I want to cry, and I can't let myself cry.
My head is too scattered for me to care that Beetee is steering me out the door and towards the waiting cars. "Aulus is not an eloquent man," Beetee starts, but I don't let him finish.
"I'm fine, Beetee. He didn't say anything I couldn't take," I say, holding my head higher, even though it hurts. Then I pull myself away from my mentor- who never really was my mentor to begin with- and climb into the car beside Delia Charm.
The ride back to the train doesn't take long, but I don't listen to anything Delia has to say on the way. I keep my eyes fixed on the roof of the car and will myself not to fall apart, not here, not now with them all watching. But Aulus-
I beam at the cameras, say something to Marcus Fireglen I don't remember. I'm not weak.
I swear I'm not weak.
As soon as the doors close behind me and the train takes off, I turn to face Beetee Latier, who is studying me right back. I won't let him see my cracks, never. "I'm tired. I'm going to bed."
Beetee lifts his glasses up and looks at me from under them. "Then we will see you in the morning." I nod, then stalk off towards my room with all the dignity I can gather, along with my thoughts.
I can feel his eyes watching me all the way down the hall, until I enter my room and close my door behind me.
Then I sink to the floor and watch my mind shatter around my feet.
My throat is raw from screaming, but nobody heard me but me. I know they didn't, because I would never have let them. I pull the blanket away from my face and wipe my mouth, returning my hands after to my hair, drawing my knees up so I can rest my forehead on them.
I'm not insane. I'm not weak. I'm not afraid.
Aulus wants me dead too; he wanted Agrippina to cut me apart for their fun until I died. A game. A sick, twisted game that they were going to play with me. She wanted me from the beginning; she wanted me dead before she even knew my name.
I know she's going to be in my dreams tonight; she's going to slice her knife through my face again and again, until I can't bleed anymore, and can't wake up. She's going to torture me again as soon as I close my eyes, so I won't let her.
There's going to be no sleep for me tonight, but I haven't cried. Not once. And Agrippina never made me scream; it was her district. I know it was; I have to believe it was. Because I won't ever give her that satisfaction.
I want to scream again, but no amount of screaming is going to put out the fire that keeps growing taller and taller; the Victory Tour is just adding kindling to it.
I don't know how to put it out. District 3's rain, 4's ocean, and 7's snow; none of those has done anything to stop the fire.
I just want it to stop.