So you've all been waiting for the end...and here it comes...Courtesy of the Citizen
PS I do not own the Hunger Games. & special thanks to Norbertsmom for betaing this chapter
After his walk, Jackson couldn't stay still. He even helped board up the windows to help pass the time. The cold air grew even more frigid as the day passed. That night at dinner he couldn't eat, as he thought about what those girls said about him. What he overheard fueled his need for vengeance. When the time came to sleep, he got ready, waiting until everyone had fallen asleep to go.
He tossed in his bed, his eyes traveling to his window. Jackson was not used to the darkness the boarded-up windows created. It felt as if life was being suspended for the next three days.
His window often gave him a view of the outdoors. Jackson often fell asleep to the view of the night sky, clouds, the changing seasons, and the snowfall. Now he didn't have that. Not that it mattered tonight. All-day long he watched the hours slowly slipping by. He was distracted and didn't pay much attention to his family. He wanted nothing more than to slip out into the darkness and get to the lair.
"Stop thinking about her," Carlton said from his side of the room.
Stephen was still mad at Carlton, and as a result, Carlton asked to come and sleep in Jackson's room.
"I'm not." It wasn't a lie. He wasn't thinking of Delly, he was thinking of how to get back at Hawthorne. If anything, he wouldn't be as bothered if Delly had chosen another Merchant to be with. It bothered him she'd chosen to be with a lowly miner like Hawthorne.
"Then stop thinking of Gale," Carlton said.
Jackson clenched his jaw at the sound of Hawthorne's name.
Listening to the girls confirmed to Jackson why he loathed Hawthorne. The guy was one of the tallest guys in the district. He was considered a sort of hero because he broke the law as a hunter with Katniss Everdeen. Despite coming from the Seam, he was also the one guy girls drooled over, regardless if they were Seam or Merchant.
"I am not thinking of Hawthorne." He couldn't keep his ire from his voice.
"Liar," Carlton yawned. "I can hear you huffing and puffing over there."
Jackson tapped his fingers on the sheets, wishing Carlton would go to sleep.
"You need to let it go. Things like this always end in disaster."
"How would you know?" Jackson sat up.
"Don't you remember uncle Jasper? He lost his hand because he threw the first punch in the slag heap at that miner."
Jackson sighed and rolled his eyes. There Uncle was a regular of the secret bar in the Slag Heap. One night he started a fight over one of the women who worked there. Uncle Jasper drunkenly ended behind the bar. He punched the mirror behind the bar, thinking there was someone there. His hand became infected, and they needed to cut it off. Uncle Jasper became the poster boy in their family as to why they needed to keep their tempers in check.
"We're known not to make the wisest of decisions when drunk or angry," Carlton pointed out.
"Do you want to get kicked out?" Jackson didn't want to talk, not tonight. He wished Carlton would shut up or just leave.
"Why not? My own brother is upset at me because I told him he was wrong," Carlton grumbled. He got up with his pillow.
The announcement elated Jackson. With Carlton out of the room, he could finally get out and get back in without being detected.
Carlton opened the door, stopped short and came back into the room, much to Jackson's chagrin. "Look, I know you, you're like my brother. Once you've grabbed on to some invisible bone, you don't know how to let it go. My brother is stupid because he doesn't have the capacity to see that he's being manipulated. He's been brainwashed by the establishment into thinking we are somehow superior to our fellow district residents. When in reality, we are all nothing but slaves to the Capitol? You're smarter than Stephen. You can see what's going on in the district. You can see how they abuse us."
Jackson opened his mouth and closed it again.
Carlton pointed the clock in the room. "They tell us how and when to work. Think about it. The Capitol sets the time for the entire nation. If it's three o'clock there, it's three o'clock here. They control us like a puppeteer controlling the strings of a marionette, and we're too dumb to see it. To them, we're District Twelve, the smallest district and the easiest to push around."
Jackson watched Carlton carefully, not sure what other outburst was going to come out of his mouth. His cousin had very strong opinions.
"I'm just tired of being kicked around and treated like I don't matter. I get it, that's how you felt when Gale took Delly from you. But face the facts, if Delly represents the citizens and we represent the Capitol wouldn't you want to hold on to a single slice of goodness?"
Jackson mutely stared at Carlton. He recalled the voices of those girls as they laughed. They made fun of him and revered Hawthorne. Jackson refused to look at Carlton. He wasn't aware of what others thought of them. They were the Sharpies; they owned the grocery store in town. Without them, no one could buy food, but it didn't seem to matter to those girls.
"Look, just don't do anything stupid like Uncle Jasper okay," Carlton said and walked out of the room.
Jackson laid there, his brain refusing to allow his cousin's words to penetrate his mind. He needed to concentrate on getting out of the house.
He waited until nearly past eleven when he could hear everyone snoring. Getting up, Jackson got dressed in sturdy, warm clothing. Taking his boots in his hands he crept downstairs and slipped his boots on then Jackson walked out into the freezing night.
He walked to the lair. Everything around him was still, as if, frozen in time. It was the coldest night, so cold the snow crunched underneath his feet. It was so eerie to see the snow-covered streets without the presence of the Peacekeeper's. The skies above churned with the oncoming storm.
Jackson shivered from the cold and from the feeling of trepidation about the future. This storm looked dangerous. It became windy just as he reached the lair. Wanting to get out of the cold, he pressed the leaver, and the secret door opened. The warmth of the interior was welcome.
Once the door closed, he stood before the machine. Taking off his coat, he sat down and began to formulate his message. Jackson tapped his fingers against the table.
"Gale Hawthorne is a traitor," Jackson muttered. "How the hell do I make the Capitol see that he is dangerous?"
He bent down and scribbled his message. He was so busy he didn't hear the door slide back open. Nor did he hear the footsteps of the Citizen.
Jackson sat back, pleased with his note when he was suddenly yanked from his chair. He landed on the floor in a kneeling position. The creature dressed in black held a knife overhead. He closed his eyes and the last words that ran through his mind were from his cousin Carlton telling him not to do anything stupid.