Reaping IV

Xavier Helmsley, District 7

i got guns in my head and they won't go
spirits in my head and they won't go
but the gun still rattles
oh, the gun still rattles on

(spirits — the strumbellas)

•••

Xavier lets out a loud scream as soon as he is alone in the Justice Building, pressing his forehead against the wall.

A Peacekeeper opens the door, but it's only to show his father inside — he gathers some tributes must have pretty extreme reactions to getting reaped, and that most of his District's Peacekeepers have grown accustomed to only moderately unhinged teenagers losing their minds while being sent away to the Games. He couldn't care less, though — his life is but a bubble of stress and anger right now, and he only tones it down when his father eyes him with the same gesture of disdain that he has always seen in his eyes. There is some contempt to his expression now, though — Xavier knows he probably feels relieved and even a little thrilled at the idea of his only son and the cause of his wife's death finally getting what he deserves by being sent to the Games. Xavier knows he has always wanted him to get reaped, after all — he made him take tesserae even when they didn't need them (which was more often than not) so that his name appeared more frequently in the bowl, and he has even barked at him that he would rather have him sent to the Games than stand another minute of his abhorrent moaning every single night.

It's not just that his father doesn't love him — he wants him dead, because he still believes Xavier's birth was what killed his beloved wife.

"So," there's a half-smile in his father's lips, which is usually a rather rare sight in the Helmsley household. "The day has come, right?"

Xavier quivers and averts his eyes, shrugging. "I suppose. There's nothing I can do about it."

"Come on, don't act like you're not craving this shit as much as I am, boy," his father bites back, a devilish smile spreading through his lips. "You're finally going to see what I went through when your mother passed away, and you know what? I'm going to enjoy every minute of it. I'm going to sit in front of the telly and eat popcorn and drink beer and even whoop when some stuck-up District One kid slits your throat open, because it's what you deserve." His finger digs into Xavier's chest malevolently, and he lets out a sharp laugh when the boy backs away from him. "What, you're going to act like a crybaby now? Do not, and I repeat, do not embarrass me in front of the whole country. I'm your only family, and the cameras will come pester me if you do anything strange, so keep your shit together."

"I . . . I will, Father," he croaks, avoiding his father's taunting gaze. He fiddles with his shirt buttons, and cringes when his father smacks his hand in reproach. "Leave me alone!"

"Don't you snap back at me like that!" His father's hands are on his shoulders, shaking him violently. His cheeks have turned a blotchy red, and Xavier somehow knows what's coming already. "Do not embarrass me, you hear me? If I see you acting like a baby while being interviewed or thrown into that goddamn Arena I swear I'm going to go all the way to the Capitol and murder you with my own bloody hands."

"O-okay, Dad!" Xavier yelps, tears prickling his eyes. He hates crying in front of his father, but the sole idea of being hit by him right before leaving for the Capitol makes it all a whole lot more painful than his nightly beatings whenever Xavier got home from work. "I'll behave, I p-promise."

His father's face is still a fiery red, but he has stopped shaking him now. He touches a hand to his son's cheek, but quickly slaps it before mumbling, "You better."

Xavier lowers his gaze and stares at his shoes, trying not to think about the stingy feeling on his cheek and shoulders. He has grown used to his father's physical abuse over the course of the year, but the fact that he is used to it doesn't make it any less hurtful — there's something inside his head that keeps telling him he deserves his father's abuse and his words of disdain, but he still aches for someone to understand what he's going through. He doesn't mind being sent to the Games in that sense — he figures it won't be worse than living with his father, and at least he will get to know some peace before the Careers hunt him down during the Bloodbath. His mouth even waters a little at the prospect of having three more than decent meals a day, and he even smiles when he pictures himself in a suit and getting ready for Caesar Flickerman's interview.

"What the fuck you smilin' at, boy?"

"Nothin', Father," Xavier shrugs his shoulders and cringes at the possibility of being hit again, but his father just glares at him before taking a sip from his hip flask, which he refilled right before leaving for the Reaping.

"You know," his father slurs, a sardonic smile on his face. "I feared this might never happen. You're getting old, you know, and you never got reaped no matter how many tesserae we took. And look at you now! All set and good to go. Can't wait to see you live on television, kid. I bet the Careers are gonna love you."

Xavier gulps and shrugs his shoulders quietly. "I'll try my best."

His father snorts. "Like Hell you will. You'll be lucky if you make it out of the Bloodbath alive, kid."

Xavier shrugs his shoulders, and gulps in relief when a Peacekeeper flings the door open and tells his father it's time for him to leave. His father grumbles something like a 'goodbye' before following the Peacekeeper outside, and Xavier hugs himself quietly while waiting for the District Seven escort to arrive — she had some interviews to do while he and his District partner were inside the Justice Building, but she had promised to come pick them up before heading to the train station. He awkwardly stands there in the middle of the corridor, glancing over his shoulder just to make sure that his father is really gone. He spots an old lady pushing a cart that is nearly twice her size — a janitor, he supposes, since people don't really retire anymore and most young people work in the woods rather than in the city centre. She smiles kindly at him, and discreetly does the Three Finger Salute to him. Xavier shivers, knowing what it means from watching the 74th Hunger Games as a young boy, and silently acknowledges the woman's salute with a nod.

"Good luck, Xavier," she whispers as she pushes her cart past him, a small smile on her lips.

Xavier nods. It is only then when he realizes that his father hasn't addressed him by his name for the past few years, not once — and yet somehow the entirety of Panem knows his name now, and will remember him by it for as long as they live.

Xavier, the boy, smiles to himself. Perhaps he isn't as lost as he thought he was.

i really wanted to make this longer but i don't have xav's district partner yet so :( anyway, i hope you liked this chapter! i won't be doing any more reapings from now on — the next four chapters will be train rides, then training sessions, then interviews, and so on. please let me know what you think and consider submitting a tribute or two if you haven't already!

up next: andromeda pierce's train ride.

until then,

-vandenburgs.