Chapter 31: Dead Girl Walking Reprise

I am screaming, my feet carrying me out of my son's house, out of the Village and towards the woods beyond. I skid to a stop in front of the fence separating me from the Meadow, and I can hear the hum of electricity. Trapped. Trapped like a mouse. Panting, wild-eyed, I turn and flee in the opposite direction, re-entering the Village from the back way. I can see the lights on in my son's house, hear voices clearly in a heated, panicked argument, but I don't stop. I don't stop until I have broken into one of the Villages' empty houses (I feel blood coating my fist, belatedly hear the shattering of glass) and then I am on my hands and knees in a vacant, basement Telephone Room, keening, sobbing, fingers digging into my blonde hair.

Back into the arena. Back into the place of nightmares from whence I alone emerged twenty-five years ago. I have to admit, I never even saw it coming. Oh, Snow sure knows how to play the cards he's been dealt, and the winner takes it all. Read them and weep, Donner… read them and weep…

Gods, wasn't one Quell enough? Apparently not. But that's where I very well might be going, unless I have to watch my goddaughter ripped away from me again, and frankly, I don't know which is worse. Whereas the only decision Peeta will have to make is whether he will need to kill his girlfriend or his mother! His girlfriend or his mother!

I sit up, my cries turning into sniffles. What blasphemy just went through my head? There is no way my son would ever consider killing Katniss or me. But one of us will be going into the arena with him, and that's a fact. Whomever Effie picks first, the other has the option of volunteering to take her place. Perhaps Katniss and I will even decide amongst ourselves who it will be. A ladies' agreement. But as much as I know my goddaughter loves me, I cannot be certain she would be as moved to save my skin as she was to save Prim's.

Through the shattered hole in the window, I can hear voices calling my name, combing the whole of the Village until they become fainter and fainter. A tiny voice inside me is yelling at me to Get up!, and I do.

I go up through the basement, through the vacant mansion and exit out to the street in a daze. I break into a run and I burst into my own mansion. Hearing the sound, my husband turns into the foyer from the kitchen and dashes to me.

"Maysie, thank the State! We have to…"

I don't let him finish. Gasping, I grab his skull, yank his face down and crush his lips to mine, in the strongest and most frantic kiss I can muster. My husband freezes for only a moment, but then kisses me back fiercely; when he tries to come up for air, I tug him back down and we desperately make out some more. Hold onto each other, because right now and probably some terrible day soon, each other will be all we've got.

My hands are raking down Danny's chest, and I bunch the hem of his shirt up in my fists, trying to tug it over his head.

"This comes off." I growl it against his bottom lip and he staggers back out of our kiss, even as I whine with the loss of contact and continue to almost violently try and undress him.

"Whoa, whoa, whoa, what are you doing?"

The rage I feel is boiling over, mixing in with the lust also coursing through my bloodstream. The need to touch somebody, to feel and know that I am alive.

Sorry, but I really had to wake you…. See, I decided I must ride you till I break you. 'Cause Snow, he says I gots to go – you're my last meal on death row. Shut your mouth and lose them tighty-whities!

I throw down my husband's pants and he yelps, a sound that quickly turns into a groan when I seize the bulge in his pants and begin to stroke him madly.

"Shut up and kiss me," I hiss, pausing just long enough to pull my shirt over my head. Unclip my bra and cast it aside. I mash my mouth to his and brazenly cup him again. Danny is slowly giving in to my seduction, but he pulls back just long enough to ask, one last time:

"Are we really doing this?"

"You bet your ass we are – now take me and fuck me!"

My husband gives in. His hands are on my ass, my pussy, my breasts, in my hair. Our mouths battle for dominance, falling open around twin groans as tongues push through to twine and play.

"Hmmm…. Mmmm…. Yes, that's it…" I push my boobs nearly into his face, begging him to grope me there. "Kiss me….."

Danny raises my leg to his waist, and I hook it gallingly around his torso. I leap into his arms and we rut against each other, still kissing like mad as he carries me up the stairs to our room, throws me down on our bed. I spread my legs like a Capitol slut and my husband divebombs my mouth, kissing me again as he tugs at his shirt and finally casts it over his head.

I need it hard, I'm a dead girl walking… Come on, tonight, I'm yours, I'm your dead girl walking… Get on all fours, take this dead girl walking… Let's go, you know the drill – I'm hot and pissed and on the pill. Bow down to the will of a dead girl walking…

Danny slams into me with such force that I scream, clamping his thighs around me. He fucks me, rides me hard and rough, a little rougher than we've normally been in bed, but goddamnit, I adore it.

"Ugghh… Huhhh…. Uhhh…. Yeah, harder….. faster…." I gasp. He picks up the pace, but not quickly enough. Growling in frustration, I flip us both, slamming his head back into the headboard as I swing my creamy thighs over to straddle him. Danny's palms are squeezing my naked boobs, and my whole body jiggles as I bounce up and down on him, still groaning incessantly. I grip his hips and drive him up all the more violently into me, guiding him to hit the spot I like. The spot I know will make me come undone.

Yeah, full steam ahead, take this dead girl walking! Let's break the bed, rock this dead girl walking. No sleep tonight for you, better chug that Mountain Dew. Slap me, pull my hair, touch me there and there and there. And no more talking…. LOVE this dead girl walking!


The moon is high in the sky, bathing my husband and I in an ethereal glow as we lie drenched in sweat and wrapped in each other's arms after having the most amazing sex of our lives. It was even better than our wedding night. Danny is spooning me, kissing my neck as I stare vacantly at a far spot on the wall, cloaked in shadow by the bedside lamp also casting an amber illumination into the room.

"You OK?" he rumbles to me.

"Yeah," I nod. "No…. I don't know." I turn around in his embrace. "I can't bear to lose either of them again, Danny. Especially not our son. But this time, I can save one. I can save Katniss… but it would mean my going back in and probably dying."

"Don't you say that…." Danny's voice is swimming with pain. "It was bad enough thinking we were going to lose our son and our goddaughter last year. It was an agonizing choice at the Reaping. I can't bear to lose my son and my wife too!"

"Well, you're going to lose somebody!" I snap at him. "It might be slightly easier for you to watch our goddaughter go back in again, but it won't be for me! Not when I have the chance to stop it! But… ohhhh…." I bury my face into the pillow. There really shouldn't be a decision. I should make damn sure that it is I who goes back in, damn whatever Katniss might think about it. She gets Reaped, I volunteer. I get Reaped, she may or may not volunteer for me, and even if she does, I refuse. It should be simple as that. I should go back in. End of discussion.

But the horrors…. The pain of a Quell arena again... I blink back hot, angry tears, berating myself. You're a coward, Maysilee Donner. You're a goddamn coward.

"Danny…. I don't know if I can do this…"

He doesn't say anything for a moment. Then I hear the sheets rustling as he sits up in bed. I turn around to look at him. My husband is picking something up from the opposite bedside table. And he's actually smiling, a little, as he stares at it.

"You know what….?" And he turns back to face me, lifting up the object so I can see it: it's a photograph, of me in my bridal dress on our wedding day. I remember the shot: Merle, my brother-in-law, had taken it clandestinely and given it to me as an extra wedding present. "I've known this sexy little honey for a long time, and I've got a lot of faith in her." Danny's voice is intense, filled with fire. Utterly sincere, even as he turns the picture frame over in his hands, pursing his lips like he's feigning pleasant surprise. "She looks a lot like you."

I watch him, enthralled, tears clinging to my cheeks as he sets the picture of me, at eighteen years old and a brand-new wife, in the center of the bed, facing me.

"I just know…. she's gonna figure out the right thing to do." And he slowly rises and pads into the bathroom to take a shower.


Four months later, the morning of the Reaping dawns hot and sultry. I rise before the sun is fully up, kiss my husband's sleeping form, and go to take a shower. I wash everything. Shave my legs. Dress in the beige Reaping frock, which remarkably still fits me, all these years later (Danny has always been in awe of how quickly I got my figure back, even after giving birth to three sons). I reach for the mockingjay pin – muscle memory – and find it missing, until I remember that it's Katniss's now. That's the way it should be. I hope she wears it onto the stage today.

When I get downstairs, my dear husband is standing over a pot of coffee, from which he pours a cup and passes it to me. I smile weakly at him and take a sip.

"You ready?" His voice is gravelly, bleary.

I sigh. "As ready as I'll ever be." Over the course of this spring and summer, Peeta was a relentless taskmaster in getting Katniss and I in shape for the Quell. He pushed himself hard too, knowing that the arena is once again his destiny. Danny seemed to appreciate how even more slim my curves have become; the sex we've undergone since the night of the Quell announcement has been among the best in our nearly 23 years of marriage.

A sudden knock at the door makes us glance into the foyer. I sigh. "That'll be the Peacekeepers."

I start to head into the foyer, and Danny follows me. "Maysie… I…."

"Danny, listen," I say, my voice tumbling as I try to get the words out fast enough. "These Games are going to be bad. If…" I have to be very careful what I say, as I know our house is bugged. "If anything goes wrong, I want you to run. Get away. Head for the woods…." I gaze at him, heartbreakingly in love. "Please, promise me."

"OK. But, Maysilee, I…."

I shut him up with a kiss. Looping my hand around the nape of his neck, I press my lips to his and kiss him goodbye. Kiss him for what very well may be the last time. When we break apart, my eyes are sad. "Goodbye, Danny," I whisper. "I love you." I turn and open the door.

The Peacekeeper officers swarm me in an instant; across the street, I can see similar posses surrounding Katniss and Peeta. We are moved into the center of the Village, with me at the head of the line. There is a bit of confusion as to what order my kids should be placed in, but Peeta lets Katniss go ahead of him. Katniss and I will be roped off separate from him anyway.

We begin a slow and solemn funeral march down to the Square, where everyone else is waiting. My kids and I take the stage. Scanning the crowd, I see my husband, my two other sons and the Everdeens quickly slip into the crowd and take their mandatory places.

Clad in a gold wig, Effie Trinket lacks her usual verve. "Welcome… welcome…. As we gather here to select the female and male tribute from District 12 for the 75th anniversary, the 3rd Quarter Quell, of the Hunger Games. As always…." Her voice actually cracks. "Ladies first."

Effie crosses to the Reaping Bowl that only has two slips of paper in it and selects one as fast as possible.

"The female tribute from District 12…. Maysilee Donner."

Yes….

"I volunteer as tribute!"

Shit. She actually did it.

As Katniss moves to take her place, I desperately grab her arm. "I can't let you do that."

"You can't stop me." Her eyes are fierce – just like her mother's.

"Katniss…."

"Auntie: let go."

I do, stunned, and Katniss takes her place on stage, a single tear rolling down her cheek.

"Wonderful!" Effie squeaks. "And now for the men." She crosses over to the bowl with the one slip of paper everyone knows has my son's name on it. "The male tribute from District 12…. Peeta Mellark." There is a slight silence as Peeta takes his place, bends and kisses Katniss.

Katniss gazes at him when he draws away. Finally, she lets out a resigned, hopeless huff. "Fuck it. We're all gonna die." Grabbing Peeta's face, she smashes her lips against his, kissing him back deeply. Gasps, wolf whistles and even a few scattered cheers go up as the lovers embrace and their kiss deepens, Peeta lifting Katniss's thigh so that she unconsciously hooks it around his waist in response. When my son and goddaughter break the kiss at last, Effie looks deeply flustered.

"Well, all that remains..."

It is Belle and Primrose who start it. The three-fingered salute. In response, the Peacekeepers surround our delegation and hustle us into the Justice Building. Bypassing the holding rooms completely, we are driven to the train station that bears my maiden name and practically thrown onto the locomotive, which quickly pulls away.

No chance to say goodbye. And maybe, as Katniss, Peeta and I look at each other, only two of us will be coming back here. But not all three. Not this time.


A/N: Song Credit - Dead Girl Walking from Heathers.