Divinity 'Vin' Faust, 13
Victor of the 152nd Annual Hunger Games
(Three months before the Reapings)
Vin is used to being alone.
(That doesn't make being alone any easier).
It has been years since she's seen her parents. After all, they are dead. Executed, if she remembers correctly. Hung in the town square for 'treasonous activities'. Vin has never heard more bullshit in her entire life.
Even as she sits here now, she knows it's bullshit. But Vin is rational, if she says so herself, and she would rather bide her time instead of just throwing herself into a fight she could never win. She never has been one for confrontation.
Her house in the Victors' Village is empty beyond belief. If Vin had it her way, she would not even live in this disgusting house (which used to belong to Crown Canters, one of history's greatest Capitol loyalists), but seeing as Panemian law dictates that all Victors will reside in the house provided for them, Vin is, unfortunately, stuck. Well, if Vin had it her way, she would not be a Victor, the Hunger Games wouldn't exist, and the Capitol would still be smoking.
She haunts this house like a ghost. She has no friends. She has no family. The rebel group that she had grown up kicked her out. The other Victors from 1 shun her. Those stupid 'factions' that Peridot was always talking about (before Vin had threatened to kill her in her sleep if she ever came to Vin's door again)…well, Vin has created a faction for herself. She is more untouchable than the Untouchable, more hated than Money, more ignored than Jacinth and Brilliant.
And, well, Vin doesn't really mind.
Although sometimes it would be nice to have someone to talk to, Vin doesn't really mind the isolation.
(At least that's what she convinced herself of).
Suddenly Vin shoots to her feet, looking around the empty (empty, empty, empty) living room of her house. (She can't think of it as her home. It's not her home and it never will be). She crosses the room and grabs her old tennis shoes, jamming them onto her feet. Without bothering to tie the laces, Vin yanks open the door and starts to run down the street.
Vin is no stranger to running. She runs from her problems. She runs from the bodies in the square. She runs from the penance the Capitol will never receive. She runs from her endless dreams of a better future that she knows she will never achieve. She runs from the knowledge that nothing will ever change, at least not in her lifetime. She runs from the Hunger Games. She runs from the other Victors around her, from the memories of her own Games, from the Capitol itself. She runs and she runs and she runs, and she wonders what would happen if she never stopped.
Her feet pound against the ground, a steady rhythm which echoes through Vin's head as she runs. She doesn't want to stop running. She wants to run until she reaches oblivion, until she can stop existing, until she reaches a place better than Panem. She wishes the world would stop, just for a moment, so she could just sit and exist and no one would bother her. If time could freeze for just a moment, even a millisecond, Vin would be happy. Even if that happiness only lasts a moment, Vin knows it would be worth it. A few seconds of contentment would be enough.
Vin runs from her problems. She runs and she runs and she runs, yet they will always catch up with her.
Eventually Vin runs into town, past the rest of the residents of District 1 (the normal people, the unassuming people, the mindless, blinded-by-Capitol-propaganda people) and toward Court Academy. She passes trainees, her eyes passing over their faces without really seeing them. Each face is the same as the last—pale skin, blond hair, blue or green eyes, no difference, everyone is the same, the same, the same—and she sees no reason to take note of them. They are just as blind as the other residents of District 1, if not more so. They believe that the Hunger Games are good, are just, and a perfectly acceptable punishment.
Court disappears behind her as her chest heaves, but she doesn't stop. Vin has never done anything right in her entire life; she got herself kicked out of the only real family she has ever known. She got herself arrested and sent into the Hunger Games. She never once completed a mission as a member of Un Meilleur Avenir. She couldn't die like she was supposed to. She deserves her pain. She deserves to feel so out of breath, to feel some semblance of the pain all the people of Panem feel each day, that Vin can do nothing to fix. Being a Victor does not put you above the law, and it is even less so for Vin.
She sucks in breath sharply, over and over again as if in ragtime, creating a sick beat for herself in her head. Breathe, step, breathe, step, breathe, step, breathe, step, breathe, step, breathe, step.
The words of a certain long dead Victor come to mind as she runs. The Hunger Games don't have to rule your life. Maybe if Vin had breath to spare, she would scoff at the thought. The Hunger Games don't rule her life. They never have, even when she fought in them. No, Vin rules her own life. It just isn't under her control most of the time. She herself does not sit in the Captain's chair. No, Vin sits as the Captain's deckhand. She has no say in her thoughts, in her actions, in what she says. It's a constant struggle for control, and Vin lost that fight long ago.
Vin makes a loop through the golden forest, finally reaching the long, straight road that leads back to the Victors' Village. She slows her pace as she reaches the Village, looking around at the eerily quiet houses. For a place inhabited by so many people, it feels as if Vin is alone in this place. She pauses for a moment, staring at the sidewalk.
"Hey, Vin! Are you okay?"
Her head whips up, looking around for the source of the voice. Finally she locates him, standing in the doorway of his house with the door half open, his two-year-old daughter on his waist. "Fuck off, Cattler."
Cattler raises his eyebrows, bouncing his daughter up and down. "You look tired. Have you been running or something?"
"I said fuck off."
"I'll call Alexandrite. I'll call Peridot."
"I said fuck off!"
Vin shakes her head angrily and stomps into her house, slamming the door as Cattler keeps staring at her and bouncing his daughter. "I hate that fucking bitch," Vin mutters, stalking up the stairs. "Younger brother died, didn't give a fuck. No one gives a fuck. None of these Victors give a single fuck about their tributes until they win. Then we're all they care about, but until we kill enough people to be validated by them, they're not going to give a flying fuck!" Fuming, she picks up a vase and throws it at the wall, satisfied when it shatters and slides down the wall in a million pieces.
Some people handle their demons by trying to forget, or by hiding. Vin handles her demons by pushing away those who attempt to help her, by running from her problems until they can no longer catch up (which will never happen, they will follow her until the end of time and she can never escape the demons that hide in the darkest corners of her mind), by turning to violence to get those who persist to leave. Her defense is that she is a loner, that she doesn't mind the isolation, but Vin has been abandoned by every important person in her entire life. Her comrades in Un Meilleur Avenir left her in the dust. Her parents were executed for being irrational. Her best friend, a twelve-year-old girl from District 11 who was her only ally in her Games, died.
And now Vin is alone, and she can't risk getting close to someone else.
After all, they will only leave her.
Just like everyone else.
So, yeah, Vin is fucked in the head, and she knows it. The more she tells herself that it's fine, that she's handling it, that she's fine. She's fine.
Vin is fine. Thanks for asking. She doesn't need anyone. She can handle it. She has been handling it for years. No one gives a shit about her, and she doesn't care.
At least that's what she tells herself. Maybe if she says it enough, it will suddenly become true and Vin can sort through all of the shit in her head. But it's not looking good. Not for her, not for anyone.
She wants liberation for the people of the Districts. It's all she's wanted since she could walk. But first, she has to fix herself before she can fix Panem. And that's a long, lonely road to tread, and for all she knows, it will never lead anywhere, anyway.
A/N: Wow! Vin is not okay! Vin has never been okay though since it's more okay! At least that's what she thinks!
1. Is Vin justified in her hatred of the Capitol?
2. Will she ever get what she dreams of?
3. Do you like Vin?
4. Is she crazy?
Random Question of the Chapter: I don't know. I'm out of random questions.
-Amanda
