Chapter 79- Astrid Clearwater

I'm fine.

I'm fine.

Fine.

I'll kill Beetee, and maybe then the world can just stop, just stop everything that it's been doing my whole life, and just let that fire die out into charred wood. When Beetee's dead; when they're all dead, then maybe I can forget everything.

I'm fine.

I'm still clutching the rose when I push the doors open back into the party, and I can feel one of the thorns cutting into my finger. It doesn't matter. Nothing matters. My head's spinning again, and I don't know. I don't know anything, because the whole world is falling apart, and it's all my fault.

Maybe I shouldn't have come out of that arena. Let Agrippina or Dominicus win, and have the whole of Panem hate or revere them instead. The one thing I'm not sorry about is that Circuit is dead, and I would kill him a thousand times rather than have him take the glory and the victory, and to have District 3 cheer him as their victor.

Still clutching the rose, the white rose that means everything, I start to push my way through the sea of color and glitter and feathers. I don't want to be here, I don't know, I don't know, I don't know about anything again. I'm too dizzy; I've hit the ground and the world is spinning out of focus.

"Congratulations!"

"Come here sweetheart! Have a drink with me!"

"Your dress is so gorgeous!"

"Let me feel your hair! It's so pretty!"

Let go. Don't touch me.

"Thank you!" I smile at them, because I have to. They don't know; nobody can know what happened. If they wouldn't tell me, they don't get to know. They don't deserve to know.

I don't want to see Beetee, with all of his secrets and cowardice and deceptions; I don't want to see my stupid, empty-minded prep team; I don't want to see Delia Charm fluttering around, completely oblivious to what's really going on. I don't want to see Aero Carter, because he couldn't help me, and he wanted to. I don't trust him. But he tried, I know he tried.

I don't want to see my mother, because she can't ever know what was offered to me. I can't tell her that President Snow-

I'll protect them, I swear I will. I don't care what he said; I'm not letting him anywhere near my family. I've already caused too much pain for my mother; I can't hurt her again.

I won't. I swear I won't.

Don't cry.

"Astrid!"

I don't want to see Delia Charm. She's calling from my right side, so I veer left, pushing through blue fur and metallic squares. How do they dress like this? I'm barely able to keep from tripping over my own dress. But I don't know anything. All the pieces in my head are snapping off, and leaving all the glass shards at the bottom of my mind. I can't pick them up.

I won't lose control. I won't.

I can't hear Delia anymore, but where is everyone else?

Where is President Snow?

Where did he go when he left the room?

Left me holding this rose-

No. I'm fine.

I stop short, almost falling forward trying to avoid falling onto the girl in front of me. She's familiar, but I don't know. I don't know how. My head is pushing from the inside out, and it hurts. No. I'm fine. But I finally meet her eyes, and I know who she is. Dressed in red, with dark brown hair pulled back. She's the Avox girl from the last Capitol party.

For a moment, neither of us does anything. Her tray of champagne glasses is shaking slightly, so maybe she does remember me.

"I'm sorry." Like last time, that's all I can get out. "I'm sorry." She stares at me for a second more, then nods slightly. Then she turns to go, leaving me alone, still holding this rose.

I'm sorry.

The Capitol's trapped us both, only she's lost her tongue and I'm losing my mind.

No. No I'm not.

I'm fine.

I'm in control.

I'm fine.

The world spins around me in a blur of color and chatter and music, until I can't breathe, I can't hear, I can't-

"Let them."

Beetee told me to let them touch me, look at me, talk to me, to let them do whatever they wanted to me. Did he include letting them sell me to the highest bidder, to pay off the debts I never knew I had to begin with?

I don't know why he lied to me a thousand times, why he never told me what the Capitol was going to ask, but he's never going to lie to me again. The next time I see him, I'm going to kill him, just like I killed Circuit, and I won't feel a moment of remorse for him either.

I'm in control.

But the world is too loud, and I'm lost again.

That scream is building up inside me, and all I want to do is sink to the floor with my hands over my ears and scream until the walls crack and collapse around me. I don't care, I don't care anymore.

I do. I do care. I'm in control.

Everything hurts, and I just want it to stop.

Stop.

I'm fine.

They keep telling me I'm beautiful, but I'm ignoring them now. I don't care what Delia Charm thinks; I'm just tuning them out until we get back to the Training Center. It's hard to ignore her when she's sitting beside me in the car, but she's not Beetee. He's in the car behind us, and I haven't even looked at him yet.

The next time I look him in the eyes is when I put a knife in his chest.

"Just like you asked!" Sparkle trills, holding out a bundle to me. What is it? It's soft under my fingers when I take it from her, then it registers.

Blue silk.

"Thank you." It doesn't come out much more than a whisper, but I say it anyway. After all this, after this Tour that's taken almost everything from me, I have the blue silk back, and maybe things will be alright after all.

I need blue silk to go home.

Home.

District 3, the city that hates me more than any of the others. The city that wants me dead, and won't stop until I am. I know better now. I'll kill them first, because I don't care. They can hate me, but they'll never hurt me again. I don't care.

I don't.

My head on my knees, my hair over my face, and blue silk in the dark against my skin. The bed is soft under me; the cover is made of some sort of fur. It doesn't matter. Nothing matters except that fire burning again, curling around my legs and reaching for my shoulders.

I'm fine.

But the Capitol is so bright outside.

I'm not scared. I'm not. I have to think my way out of this again, just like I always have.

I said no.

I told him I wouldn't let him sell me to the Capitol, and he accepted it. He could have ordered me to do it, but he didn't.

He didn't.

I'll never let him hurt my family, if that's what he's going to do. I'll protect them; I'll stay with them forever and never let them out of my sight. The University doesn't matter; nothing matters. They wouldn't have taken me anyway; why would they take the victor they all despise?

They wouldn't.

I'm moving almost before I know what I'm going to do; my bare feet make almost no sound as I walk to the door and edge it open. The hallway's dark, but it doesn't matter. I know where I'm going now, and no one is going to hear me do what I'm going to do.

The living room is lit with the Capitol lights, but dimly so that the furniture casts grey shadows on the floor. I don't care about the living room tonight; it's the kitchen I need to get into. I know where the dining room is, but I haven't been into the kitchen yet. It's not hard to find; even in the dark I can feel for the door handle so that I can ease the door open.

Dark. No light, but silk against my skin, and I don't care. I don't care.

I'm fine.

I keep one hand on the counter, the other reaching out to find a light switch. Walking around must trigger something, because the lights come on so suddenly it blinds me.

I'm fine.

Besides, I've found what I'm looking for. Carefully, I slide the knife from the block on the counter, and hold it as securely in my hand as I did Agrippina's knife that last morning, before I put it in Circuit's stomach and saw the fireworks above me that were my salvation.

One week in the jungle. A thousand years ago now, but it's never going to go away. The arena is going to hunt me down for the rest of my life, until I die and District 3 and the rest of Panem will finally be happy.

I don't care.

The light turns off just as I open the door, and the whole world is pitch black again. No stars. Not here. But I have blue silk, and that's what matters. Blue silk and a bouquet of sticks and berries from a district I shouldn't care about anymore; from a girl who I should have forgotten by now.

She was my ally. Not my friend. Someone I had to kill to leave the arena.

But she was my ally.

I'm feeling along the wall with one hand to guide me to the living room, just like I guided my way to the train station that one night in the rain-

My other hand is keeping the knife in a tight grip. I know what they could do; I know they could try to take it away from me, bring me back to the doctors to have my head examined again. I'll never let anyone from the Capitol touch me again, never. Never.

Besides, Beetee wouldn't know how to pull the knife from my hand. He touched two wires together to win; he never had to fight or look the people he murdered in the eye. I did. I looked every one of them in the eye before they died; before the Cornucopia took Tilling down, before I threw the axe into Dominicus's head, before I stabbed Circuit.

Tilling. She's still pulling me down every night, but Elowyn is helping too. My allies, drowning me night after night, and it's still my fault they're dead.

I don't care.

"Astrid."

I've put one foot into the living room when I hear him, and instantly pull back towards the wall.

I don't say anything. Neither does he, but we both know the other is there. It's the arena again; victor against victor now, and only one of us is going to go to bed alive tonight.

The arena never stopped, and neither did the rules.

"They asked you to repay your debts."

"President Snow did," I say, still keeping in the shadows. I don't want him to see the knife until it's too late.

I swear I'm unbreakable.

But I'm still so confused.

"What was your answer?"

"No."

Beetee's quiet. Too quiet.

"You should have told me. Why didn't you tell me?"

"Would you have believed me if I had?"

"No. But you should have tried."

"And where would that have gotten you?"

I finally pull out of the shadows; I don't care if he sees the knife or not. I don't care.

"I would have known what he was going to ask, Beetee! You lied to me; you all lied to me the whole Tour, and you wouldn't tell me what they were going to ask me to do! You knew, you knew!"

I'm almost shouting, but I don't care. He lied to me this whole trip, and now I'm the one who has to pay the price for it.

"You sold me for sponsor money; you should be the one to pay the debts. Not me. I didn't ask for any of this Beetee; you knew all along, and you didn't tell me!"

I can see him through the dark, impassive and just looking at me in that infuriatingly Beetee way. My hands are shaking, and maybe I shouldn't be holding a knife, but I don't care.

I'm not going to cry.

I'm standing here in front of him, but he hasn't mentioned the knife. Maybe it's too dark to see, or maybe he's just pretending I don't have it. It doesn't matter.

"You wouldn't have believed us if we told you."

"But you could have said something. All those whispered conversations, behind closed doors, when I wasn't there. You all knew, you all discussed it. You and Silver talking, I heard that. Mags told me the most of any of you, but she still didn't tell me outright. Whatever happens now is your fault. Your fault, Beetee!"

My legs are shaking under me too, but I'm not weak. I'm not weak so I won't sit down.

What is the Capitol going to do now?

"I said no, Beetee."

"Then you'll have to be careful."

"Don't lie to me. I know you're lying again, and don't you dare do it again."

Why haven't I killed him yet?

That stupid, stupid look of pride he gave me when I won, that's what's keeping me from stabbing him with this knife right now. That spark of pride that made me think that maybe he was my mentor and ally all along.

He's not. He's not either of those things.

But I wanted him to help me. Just for that brief moment in District 2, I wanted him to help me.

I can't kill him. Not now.

That fire is still wrapping around me, and I can't breathe. My head's pounding, and I'm shaking, but he can't see. I won't let him see, because I'm not weak; I've never been weak. I won, so I'm not weak. And I said no to President Snow, so I'm not weak.

I'm not.

"It's going to be your fault, Beetee," I say, and this time it comes out almost in a whisper.

Blue silk. Blue silk against my skin.

I don't bother to say anything else to him before I walk past him and back to my room; back to my bed and my head on my knees, with the world spinning out of control. But this time I have my bouquet and my shell from District 4. And now I have a knife as well.

I won't cry.

I won't.