Melvin Murk 63 District 9, victor of the 49th Hunger Games
The sound of the chair rings into my ears as I drag it across the floor and arrange it in a circle with seven others in this empty, white, dull room. The noise makes me cringe every time as a kind of reminder in some way, what it's a reminder of I'm not quite sure but it's a reminder of something. My life has kind of just been a blur since that fateful day the 49th Hunger Games ended and I plunged an icicle into the monster boy from District 2. It just went by, it took me a few years until I was ready to marry, when eventually I did I lived a pretty normal life in District 9 and it just kind of went by after that. It would be strange to say that my gruesome experience in the games was the highlight of my life because that wouldn't be quite true but what is true is that nothing really exciting ever happened to me again. Still, I was a popular victor, much to my surprise. Nolan was an extremely brutal career and people seemed to like the hero story that came out of my victory. His face flashes before my eyes even as I think about him now. I can never forget the pure, insane, malice in them. Like he wanted to destroy every part of me and then burn my remains and all of my friends to ash.
Due to my popularity, the Capitol approached me about ten years ago offering me this job. I don't know why they did it but they have their reasons I guess. They let me act as a kind of therapist to other victors who are hoping to become mentors in their districts or who just want to come to speak to others with similar experiences. At first I was reluctant but since I am now widowed it has become my life and I love it. Of course there are Peacekeepers watching us like hawks at all times, making sure our conversation stays strictly away from anything that would remotely be considered rebellious. They also keep tabs on us, making sure we never see each other except for this dedicated time once a month.
Eventually the victors start filing in through the door. First there is Ares, he was the typical hot shot, blond, District 1 career. Tall, muscly and full of himself. For the first few months he was at the sessions he just acted how he had been throughout the entire games, how he had been conditioned, cocky, hot headed and with no regrets. However, eventually over the years he has begun to open up about how it affected him. He killed four people but his biggest regret was the boy from 9 (my home), that kid was only a skinny 14-year-old and Ares beat him to death. He has broken down several times during our sessions, apologizing to the boy and his family but unfortunately those apologies fall on death ears and it's too late. I never say that to him though.
Next in is Lance from District 11. He has been coming from the very beginning and has become a kind of co- runner of the sessions, this place has become his home… he loves it here. Every time he enters, I am pulled into a big hug "This place gave me a purpose in life again," he tells me constantly. During the games his leg was viciously mauled by a bear mutt. He then had to go the remainder of the games with only the use of one leg and miraculously pulled off a victory! Of course there was nothing left of his leg by the time the games were up, so now he walks with a cybernetic one. Restoring his body confidence and self-image has been one of the most rewarding things I've ever done.
As everyone takes their places in the circle, a final victor enters the room… Twyla. She's late as usual. When it comes to the people that I've had to deal with in this place, she was a particularly unusual case. As the winner of last year's hunger games she has only been coming a few months but she was possibly the youngest victor ever at only 12. All throughout the pre games she appeared as a regular ray of sunshine type girl, winning the audiences over with her butterfly like personality. Unfortunately, this did mean everyone saw her as a goner pretty early on however she somehow managed to survive through all the dangers with the help of her district partner who became like a brother to her. Then, one night towards the end of the games she suddenly began smothering him a cloth in his sleep. It was a truly shocking scene to say the least. After murdering her district partner, she went on to win when the two remaining careers were crushed under a boulder. Something snapped in her that night, her eyes changed into a venomous creature looking to snuff out a potential threat. Now she is an empty shell of something that remains behind. I know I will never be able to restore her former self back but I will bring out a new person, one that has a chance at living a better life.
Twyla awkwardly slides in, keeping her head downwards before finally taking the last seat. She has never said a word, the entire time she's been here despite my efforts to get her to open up. It will take time, I know that. For now, she just sits on the edge of the conversation in her own world, twiddling with her thumps and swinging her feet up and down. I am just glad she is here with the only people that could possibly know what she went through.
The session starts off as most others do. I ask everyone what they have been doing since the last time we met to try to see if they have made any progress. It's mostly just met with simple small talk and occasionally solace.
The conversation quickly takes a more serious turn.
"I wish I could still talk to my friends at the academy," Ares mutters.
"But I'm not the friend they knew 5 years ago that left to go to the games… and they know it."
"Are you still having the dreams?" I ask.
He squeezes his eyes tightly with this thumb and finger in an attempt to contain his emotions.
"Yeah I still see their faces… the people I killed…" he stutters.
Whenever I got a career in here I always found it hard to sympathise with them… probably because of my experience with Nolan… he's the only face I see at night. His wild, rage filled eyes… Still, Ares has helped me get past this slightly. They are still human after all and were in the exact same position as the rest of us.
"Look man, we all had hard choices to make in our arenas and no one else can judge us for it… even if they try," Lance interjects, smiling at the former career.
"That's right, whoever you were or became in that arena… it's not who you are now," I say, my eyes moving around to the many sad faces in the room.
Finally, I ask about what new hobbies people have taken up since getting back home. A lot of the time helping them find at least one hobby in an attempt to move on is good way to start. I circle throughout the group, finding at least one thing that everyone is getting up to until finally Twyla says the first thing I have ever heard her say.
"People watching…" She states her voice sounding vague and distant, her blue eyes still poised on something in her mind, they are not looking at me, they are looking through me but that's ok.
It's a tiny bit of progress… she has uttered her first two words since the games ended. Not even during her victory tour did she say anything which was in stark contrast to her excited, sociable character during the pre-games interviews. The room falls into silence in this big moment.
Crystal Vine, Victor of the 50th Hunger Games, District 1
I kneel on the ground, the wet grass seeping through my jeans. Despite the cramp forming in my knees, I don't move. I stare at the graves that mark my parent's resting places, unable to find the right words. She starts with the grave that's marked 'Silk Vine'.
"Mom. I'm sorry I let you down. Even after coming home with Alexandrine...it wasn't good enough for you. I'm sorry." Crystal wipes a tear out of her eye. She looks at the grave besides her mom's. 'Cress Vine'.
"I didn't do much better in your eyes, dad. And for that I'm sorry." A chill shoots down my spine. Flashes from the arena come to the forefront of my mind. I grip my temples with my palms, trying to push the memories out. Bloodied faces, loud screams, cannons firing.
I try to stand up and back away from the graves, a direct reminder of the death that never ceases to follow me, but my foot gets caught under myself and I collapse to the ground. I lie there in a fetal position, trying to block myself. First it was my allies, then it was my best friend. Every year after, it's been at least one of the two tributes I try my best to bring home. Then, the deaths of my parents, who's deaths I thought would hurt the least. I no longer believe it's them I miss. It's the knowledge that I physically can't do anything to prove my worth in their eyes. I can't even do right by the kids that volunteer every year, that rely on me to give them lifesaving advice or gifts from sponsors. I've lost too many to remember.
"Crystal?" A familiar voice snaps me out of it. I open my eyes and look into the eyes of Alexandrine Laurent, my best friend and fellow victor of the 50th games. She lowers her hand and helps me up to my feet.
"Are you…?" She answers her own question when she sees the two graves we stand beside. She takes my hand and pulls me back towards Victor's Village.
"I'm sorry. I'm perfectly okay, I promise." We both know that's not true, but she doesn't question it. She understands better than most what I've been through. Sometimes I think she understands me better than I understand myself. She knows what I've lost.
After we returned home, I thought I could return to my previous life, enjoy time with my friends, especially Garnett. But I had a responsibility to help the academy train students, year after year. I had to consult teachers on who should be chosen for the opportunity to volunteer. But when Garnett was chosen for the 52nd Hunger Games, every horrible feeling I had learned to bottle up erupted. I had to take him to the Capitol and relive the suffering first hand. And when he died, a part of myself died. I didn't think I could recover. Maybe I haven't. Days like today make me think I haven't.
We arrive at the front of my house, which sits directly besides Alexandrine's. She lives there with her husband, Ace. She helped train him at the academy the year after we won and after he wasn't chosen as that year's volunteer, he proposed. Their relationship just worked for them both. Marrying a victor was important for Ace's family, and settling down was important for Alexandrine's. There was a lot of pressure on them for a while to have children, and they kept up the facade they were trying until recently. I know she never intended to bring a child into this world. The pressure for them to train and volunteer would be impossible to escape from. We both know what it's like not to live up to your parent's expectations.
Even though she's satisfied, I can't help but feel a pain of jealousy when I see them together. I wouldn't dare tell her though. I value our friendship too much to ruin it.
"Are you going to be okay?" She asks me. I shrug. Another Hunger Games is approaching, us at the academy already know who the volunteers are going to be, and I have to go into this knowing one won't come back. Just like I have for the past 45 years. Safe to say, I'm not going to be okay.
"Yeah. Yeah, I'll be fine." I turn to face my house to avoid direct eye contact with Alexandrine. I don't want to put any more burden on her. I do that too much already.
"Okay. You know where to find me." She takes me off guard when she pulls me into a tight hug. I tense up, hoping she can't feel the racing of my heart. She pulls away with a soft smile before slowly moving towards her house. It's not until she goes inside that I snap out of the moment. My face reddens as I quickly look around. Once I'm positive no one saw what happened, I slip through my front door.
Nightmares plague my sleep. I know they're dreams, but I can't wake up. I can't escape them.
I watch helplessly as Evan bleeds out on the ground, his pale skin growing paler as the blood seeps out of his body. Casper stands over him, his sword dripping with Evan's blood. He steps over my fallen ally and raises his sword towards me. My brain screams at my body to run, but my body remains paralyzed. I watch helplessly as Alexandrine shoves me out of the way. I watch helplessly as his sword slices through her.
My vision fades to black and suddenly I'm sitting on a couch in the training center, watching tributes fight in the finale of the latest Hunger Games. It doesn't take me long to realize the tribute on the screen is Garnett.
Although I know what comes next, I reach out towards the screen, as if to pull him out of the arena and beside me. But I can't. I can't do anything but watch as his opponent stabs him in the back. I watch Garnett collapse to his knees, coughing up blood. I hear my own screams fill the room, begging him to get back up. I collapse in Alexandrine's lap, not realizing she turned the TV off as I sob into her lap.
I wake up in a cold sweat, gasping for air. I try to focus my breathing to minimal success. I'm unsure how much time passes before my heart rate finally slows to a normal rate. I collapse on my back, turning my head to stare out the window beside my bed. Since sleep isn't an option, I allow my mind to wander on the possibilities for this year's games. What kind of arena will the kids be thrown into? What kind of animalistic creations and mutations will they have to face? Will either of my tributes have the chance of returning home, or will both perish like so many before them? How many more years of this will I be able to tolerate before I simply crack?
Hello everyone. Hope you enjoyed reading about some of the past victors. Would you like to hear more about their stories? We both decided to write about victors from our stories (Melvin is written by Nautics and Crystal is written by Team Shadow) Anyway this syot is still open and we will be accepting the first wave very soon of tributes that we think fit in the story well. See you soon!