Goodbyes: The Weakest

Lower Capitol:

Flint Crypton's POV:

"Lend us your hands for the 227th Hunger Games tributes, Flint Crypton and Tatum Memphis!"

The crowd clapped faintly as our escort, Blaze, basked in the attention. I waved and smiled at the camera, pretending this was just the final applause for another performance with the orchestra. It was far easier to believe that than accept what was really happening right now. The only thing that kept hammering tiny cracks into my fantasized scenario was the little girl standing beside me. She was twelve and barely five feet tall. She was managing to keep everything in check: head up, shoulders back, and mouth set in a firm line. However, her tiny hand encompassed by mine trembled uncontrollably.

Once the slight applause vanished, Peacekeepers began pouring out of every corner. They ushered the hordes of people out of their seats and away from the stage. I watched them with jealousy and a small pang of anger shot through me. As if it was just any other day, they got to go back to their carefree and easy lives. The fact that I was reaped didn't change a thing in their worlds.

It was another happy day in the Capitol.

Soon, my arm was grabbed lightly and I snapped back to attention. A Peacekeeper nodded to my left. I looked down to my right to realize that the girl, Tatum, was suddenly gone. I hadn't even noticed her slipping her hand away from mine. I followed the Peacekeeper off the stage. We ducked behind it and began walking towards a closed off building. Usually this place was swarmed with people. Generally the older teenagers or young adults hung around and partook in one of the many activities. This compound had dancing, fencing, swimming and even hula hooping lessons. It was one of the few places in the Capitol where you could come and exercise. Most people didn't since there was no need to. There was always a surgery to fix any kind of weight problem. Still, it appealed to the younger people (such as myself) who needed to get rid of all their excess energy.

We entered the building and I was swiftly herded into a room surrounded by windows. The sun bounced off the sleek floor and our footsteps echoed off the walls. He pointed me towards a set of chairs that had been set up in the corner.

"The girl got the actual sitting room," he explained as I sat down in one of the plush chairs, "Which left either this or the locker room."

"Why not the sitting room on the third floor?" I asked as I remembered a small nook many people liked to relax in.

"We can't watch you from there. Not to mention it's right by a fire escape and an easily opened window."

"Why does that matter?"

He had a simultaneously pitying and demeaning expression as he responded, "Our job is to make sure you stay safe… That includes taking any and all precautions so that there is no way for you to take your own life."

I reeled back in horror. The thought of running never occurred to me, let alone killing myself. The Peacekeeper saw the shock on my face and simply shrugged in response. He spun on his heels and left the same way we came in. I watched him walk several feet down the corridor before leaning against a wall. He propped one of his feet up behind him and watched me intently, as if I might disappear if he even blinked.

I fiddled with one of the tassels dangling from the chair as I attempted to work through what I was feeling. It was like trying to sort through my mother's messy closet. If I picked up one blouse, several layers of discarded clothing lay right underneath waiting. The sheer amount of feeling that was brewing inside of me almost scared me. Much like the closet, it was just easer to slide the door shut and focus on buying a brand new outfit.

As if on cue, my parents were marched by the rows of glass. They entered the room and were led directly to where I was seated. They both smiled sheepishly as they lowered themselves across from me. Just like how I couldn't stop myself from batting at the tassels, my mother immediately began to twirl her hair while my father cracked each individual knuckle repeatedly.

"This is certainly a surprise," my mother laughed airily as she glanced around the room.

Neither of my parents were able to look at me and I found it hard to do the same. It was almost as if I was embarrassed that I had been reaped…. It felt like we were going to have the 'sex' talk instead of saying our last goodbyes.

"I don't really know how we're supposed to do this," my father admitted as he looked to a Peacekeeper for guidance.

The man apparently didn't pick up on his searching gaze.

"I think you're supposed to give me your sage advice," I joked. "You know, your final farewells."

"This is just ridiculous," my mother huffed. "I know this had to happen to someone, but I never imagined it would be us!"

I bit my tongue, forcing myself not to correct her. This didn't happen to 'us'. It happened to me.

"Well it did."

"You just got into the Capitol's Symphonic Orchestra," she ranted, "There has to be someone I can call."

I laughed at this, truly thinking she was making some dark joke. When her serious expression stayed intact, my mouth almost dropped open, "You can't just call someone and ask for a favor. I was reaped on national television!"

"I'm just saying there has to be other children who aren't even doing anything with their lives," she reasoned, as if this explained away everything.

I sat back in my chair and chuckled to myself. She was talking about this like it was some inconvenient responsibility that was added to our social calendar at the last minute. As if she could just shirk it off on a family friend or fellow colleague.

"Yeah there are, so what? Does that mean they deserved to be on that stage more than me?"

"Well-I-I," she spluttered out, flustered by my comment.

This kind of backtalk would have never gone over prior to today. In fact, it wouldn't have existed. The unspoken rule in my house was that my parents were always right. If I didn't contradict them, I got to do whatever I wanted. It really wasn't that hard. However, right now, I wasn't going to sit and listen to their rants and lectures. I wasn't going to let this one thing that was absolutely about me in every way be about them.

"No, mom, it doesn't. I got picked and now I'm stuck. Deal with it."

"Don't speak to your mother like that," my dad piped up.

I rolled my eyes and continued to move along the rows of tassels. Seriously? I show one sign of teenage moodiness and he acts like he's going to threaten to ground me for all eternity? My mom was right; this is just ridiculous. As we sat in the silence, I couldn't help but feel the time ticking by. Soon they were going to be forced to leave and this would the memory I had of our last conversation.

"I didn't know what to ask for," my mom chimed, "so I asked them to fetch this."

I looked back to her and saw a Peacekeeper carrying a familiar golden object. He handed the shiny trumpet to my mother who in turn placed it on the table between us. Just seeing my trumpet brought a flood of relief and joy. All of the hours I had spent practicing and performing flowed through my mind and I felt like myself once again. Then the confusion hit.

"Why did they bring this?"

"They asked about your token. This was all I could think of on such short notice."

I looked up at her and saw true parental concern etched onto her face. My father's had the same expression and my very brief stint of teenage angst dissipated. Every past feeling or conversation between my family and me no longer mattered. The small argument my mom and I had over breakfast was forgotten. My parent's earlier awkwardness wasn't out of not caring. Just like me, they didn't know how to deal with this. We were all so out of our depth in this situation… Just like my mom and the trumpet, we couldn't think through and put everything together on such short notice.

"They probably won't let me take this into the… uhm…. the arena."

She responded, "It's never a bad idea to try."

I nodded and all of us stared at each other. If given enough time, maybe we would have found the right words to express what we were feeling… If we could first be given the right amount of time to know what that even was. However, just like there were only so many knuckles to crack, hairs to twirl, and tassels to mangle there were only so many ticks in a timepiece. The Peacekeepers were soon asking my parents to leave. As they stood, I felt like I should say something mind blowing… Something neither of us would ever forget, in a good way.

"I'll see you later," I smiled.

That wasn't it.

"Agreed," my father responded as he began to walk away.

My mother followed suit, but turned around after a couple of steps. A pain developed in my chest when I noticed her pale eyes were wets with the beginnings of tears.

"I'll see what I can do. I'll call around and ask."

"It's never a bad idea to try," I repeated from earlier.

She smiled and turned away. With that, they were both gone and I was left alone. Did I think that there were other people that wanted to visit me? Yes. I knew my Aunt Lissa and several of my friends would be upset not getting to talk to me one last time. However, I also thought there was no way anyone else was going to show up. The amount of time it took to get everyone situated and organized earlier was ungodly. The chaos of everyone trying to get back to their regular lives afterwards would make it take twice as long to leave at least. Now add on trying to figure out how to visit that one kid who got reaped and you would never escape. By the time you did, I would be long gone.

As if proving me wrong, the door opened and I looked towards it excitedly. The disappointment of a foreign face was crushing. However, I shoved that feeling into the messy closet with everything else and shut it tightly once more.

"Hey kid," he barked, "I'm your mentor."

He didn't bother introducing himself as he threw himself ungracefully into a nearby chair. Not that he needed to. Zeus Smitz was one of only two victors from District Three and, by far, the more popular of the two. I vaguely remembered his games, but he won based on his brute strength (something very uncommon from anyone in his district). Still, I had always liked him and his jovial attitude. Nothing ever seemed to weigh him down.

"Cool," I replied, starting to get kind of excited, "I never thought I'd get to talk to an actual victor. You guys are awesome."

My comment seemed to displease him for some reason as he pursed his lip.

"Thanks, I guess. Anyways, I'm supposed to take this time to come in here and get to know you. Talk about your strengths and weaknesses."

I sat there for a while as he looked at me expectantly. I just stared at him with a sort of dazed smile on my face.

"Any day now."

"Huh?"

"Your strengths?"

The silence stretched between us.

"Or weaknesses?"

I glanced around, slightly panicked. What did he mean by that? I thought about all the things my friends and I talked about when we discussed the Hunger Games. Being guys, we usually talked about the fighting aspect of it. I had taken several fencing lessons, but I didn't want to lie to Zeus. I wasn't a fighter or overly strong.

"I can play the trumpet," I blurted out, spying the shiny object in front of us.

He looked down at it, noticing it as well.

"Really? That's what you have to say?"

"I… Uh-"

"You could have said you pass obnoxiously smelly gas and I would have been more impressed."

I reared back, completely grossed out by his comment. Why in the world would that be considered impressive or a good thing?

"They told me to come in here with an open mind, but this is absurd," he laughed, "and I deal with the weakest of the weak every year."

"Your sister was pretty strong," I unthinkingly said before I could stop myself.

His carefree, almost lighthearted expression vanished. It was replaced with a cold stone wall that rivaled his late sisters. Valhalla Smitz died in the Hunger Games last year. She was a front runner in the Capitol, as well as being my personal favorite. She knew how to add a certain dramatic flair to the games that I hadn't ever seen.

When I said my comment, I meant it in admiration but I immediately could tell he did not take it that way.

"You're going to die," he bluntly said, "and there is nothing either of us can do to change that. Now grab your trumpet and let's get out of here. Time to get you dolled up one last time… If you want."

I stood up and grabbed my instrument. I held it close to my chest as he muttered, "Total bullshit. You get free surgery if you want. What load of…"

As he walked away, I ran to catch up to his long strides. I didn't want to admit it, but I had a deep feeling he was right. I was considered even feebler than District Three... However, instead of letting it be a burden, I did what I always did. Put it away and pretended it didn't exist. It was easier to keep from suffocating in this crowded city by letting nothing weigh you down...

I'd rather be oblivious and happy than knowledgeable and miserable.

Tatum Memphis' POV:

Eyes forward… Spine straight… Blink… Don't cry! Blink… Keep blinking…

My eyelids felt foreign to me… Almost like instead of flaps of skin there were two butterflies desperately fighting right on top of my eyes. Still, I kept furiously blinking as I battled to keep any tears from forming. I wasn't going to be that little kid I saw on the television screen every year. I wasn't going to be the weak one.

I wasn't going to cry.

Soon, the show was over. As soon as the audience began to leave, I looked at the cameras desperately. Sure enough, they were no longer looking at me. They sagged slightly as the lights above them dimmed. The cameras were powering off, just waiting to film the next event in my march to death… I wished that I could just power off and be put away; nice and snug in some storage room until I was needed.

However, I wasn't that lucky. I slipped my hand away from Flint's. He was staring at our fellow citizens, entranced by them. He seemed almost angry at first, but when I looked closer it reminded me more of longing; he was wistfully wishing he was one of them. It was a look I knew far too well.

I looked past him and saw several Peacekeepers approaching. I skirted behind him and walked straight up to one of the females. I nodded at her and we began to walk the way she came. Although I had never been a part of it I knew the drill. The Peacekeepers escorted you everywhere. The only time that wasn't the case was when you were stuck in a secure building that was surrounded by them. Once a tribute was reaped, these people became your personal bodyguards.

Or prison wardens, whichever way you chose to look at it.

We stepped into the large building and automatically veered right. We passed by several rooms until we reached a more open lounge area. Several tables and seats littered the space, but there was a specific place that was set up a little more extravagantly. The chairs and table had obviously been brought in, as well as the (most likely) hand-woven carpet that they were placed on top of.

The wealth that was so easily accessible to the Capitol never ceased to surprise me.

I sat down and tried to ease into the soft velvet. No matter what position I changed to, my body continued to shake like a small animal trapped outside in a rainstorm. No matter how hard I willed myself to stop moving my body wouldn't listen. It had completely succumbed to the waves of uncontrollable tremors.

Within minutes, a series of footsteps met my ears. I looked up in time to see both my mom and grandma turn around the corner. Again, my body acted before I could tell it what to do. I was automatically on my feet and sprinting towards them. I threw myself into my mom's open arms. I heard the scuffle of the nearby Peacekeepers as they readied their weapons. However, once they were assured I wasn't going anywhere, they relaxed and moved away. My mom awkwardly carried and dragged me back to the couch. We both fell onto it in tears. I couldn't get out a single word as I sobbed, suddenly ceased by pure terror.

"I hate them," she muttered into my ear so quietly that only I could hear, "I hate them with all my heart."

None of us questioned why I was reaped because we already knew why. My family was blacklisted… We had been for years. The government despised us and was slowly trying to rub us out of existence. It had all started only two years prior. Being ten, I had no clue what was happening. At the time, my mom told me my dad just ran away. Sadly, it wasn't uncommon for men to leave their families for the nearest set of pretty legs that walked on by. However, since then I found out the truth.

My dad was a rebel.

The Capitol found out and they killed him.

Taking my dad away from me wasn't enough for them though. Out of nowhere, both my mom and grandma got fired from their jobs. Wherever they went, they couldn't find a single place willing to employ them. The ones they did manage to scrounge up led to almost immediate termination within a couple of days. Our banks accounts emptied rapidly until there was nothing left. We were forced to leave our comfy lofts in the middle of the Capitol and move to the very edge of the city. To this day we lived in an attic that was above a frigid storage unit.

My family finally found work… Avox work. All three of us managed to get jobs washing dishes and delivering food to the tributes every year. The only work they allowed us to have were the jobs they gave to murderers and other criminals. Ironically enough, it wasn't until after this job that I actually joined their ranks and became a criminal myself.

And now they reaped me for the Hunger Games. They were sending a twelve year old girl who has had to scrape by with the scum of the Capitol to her death all for being the daughter of a rebel.

"With all my heart," I repeated as I pushed myself away from my mom.

I furiously wiped away my tears. My grandma was seated nearby dabbing tears away from her own eyes. I stood up and hugged her as well. Instead of feeling panicked, terrified, and angry I was now overwhelmed by a sudden stillness. Being upset and angry wouldn't help me out in this situation. I had to keep my wits about me. That was the only way I was going to be able to fight my way out of this.

"I'm going to be fine," I managed to say as I looked back and forth between them.

My mom nodded in agreement while my grandma seemed unsure. Her lack of confidence struck a nerve, but I ignored the pain. Of course she didn't believe me. I had no evidence to back up my statement.

"I'm a survivor," I said more to myself than to anyone else in the room, "We all are. We're a family of survivors."

My mom replied, "You've always done what you've had to do… I don't think that will change in the games…"

"But?" I asked, hearing the subtle doubt creep into her voice.

"You're so young," she whispered, "Everyone knows what the Hunger Games entails… Tatum, do you really think you can kill someone?"

I sat back down, shocked, not truly knowing the answer. Since I had been reaped only minutes prior, the thought of having to kill someone hadn't once crossed my mind. I knew I could hurt others… I had done it before when far less was at stake… But actually ending someone else's life? Could I do that?

"She shouldn't have to worry about that," Grandma intervened, "She's too young to be having those thoughts."

"And, yet, I have to decide pretty quickly," I whispered.

Suddenly, the Peacekeepers moved forward. I looked up, not able to believe that our time was already up. Everything was happening so fast… Too fast. The Peacekeepers motioned to both of my remaining family members.

"I love you, Tatum," my mom cried out as one of the Peacekeepers placed something on the table.

She hugged me before I could look at it and my grandma was swiftly right behind me, "I love you too."

As they hugged me from both sides, I couldn't help but whimper, "I love you three."

The Peacekeepers roughly separated us as tears began to slide down my face once more. Both of them began to march away and I finally looked down to see what was placed on the table. I immediately recognized the spectacles and grabbed them protectively. These were my father's glasses… One of the few personal belongings that was left behind after he disappeared. My mom always kept them on her nightstand and never let anyone touch them.

I looked back at their retreating figures as I held my token in my hands. I was a smart girl, always had been and always will be. I had worked multiple jobs and had seen the ins and outs of the pre-game events. I had smuggled drugs across the border in the dead of night and delivered violent 'messages' to other individuals. Every time the Capitol tried to squash us, I had found a way to keep on living.

"I'm going to do whatever it takes," I called out, "I'm a survivor, mom."

As the turned the corner my mom looked back one last time. I only saw her face for a split second, but in the second I saw one thing: hope.

I realized I was trembling once again and sat down. I didn't know how long this resolve would last, but I was hoping it would carry me forward for a while. At least long enough to figure out a plan (something I was in desperate need of).

Soon, I was visited by another person. I watched them approach with an uncertain, almost shy demeanor. Miranda Bloodmoss sat down across from me and we both immediately began to observe the other. She was older, most likely in her early forties, but memorable in her own right. Before her, District Ten was never considered overly strong or a contender. Ever since she won her games she had been bringing home tributes on a fairly consistent basis. In fact, she was the mentor to last year's victor.

Although, now that she was sitting in front of me she didn't seem like anything special. She was wiry and underweight. Her whole manner seemed polite and cautious; as if she was nervous. It didn't really inspire any confidence.

"You seem different," she automatically said without introducing herself.

I looked down, slightly startled by her statement. I didn't know why she came to that conclusion. Not only was a tiny, but I was wearing a dress from several years ago. It was pink and frilly; almost overly girly and cutesy. Although it looked old and I personally didn't like it anymore, it was one of the nicest things I still owned.

"Your attitude onstage," she explained, "You held yourself together."

I shrugged in response as I looked past her. Now she was just stating things I already knew.

"Most people seem to forget I also mentored a twelve year old boy last year…. His name was Davis."

I suddenly felt very wary. Where exactly was she going with this?

"The second his name was called he started bawling," she reminisced. "The first night on the train he cried hysterically. He was so innocent and sad…"

"Is there a point to this story," I couldn't help but ask.

"It hasn't even been a half hour since you were reaped and, here you are, sitting peacefully. It shows you have self-control and a maturity that most children your age don't possess. It makes me believe you actually have a chance, just like the majority of the other tributes."

Her words of encouragement sent a soft, warm feeling to my stomach that spread like fire. It was the first time someone else actually said I had a shot. It proved wasn't just all in my head…

"If you can keep yourself together than that opens a lot of doors."

"Such as?"

"Alliances," Miranda stated, "If you were like Davis, I would just have to hope that some older tribute took pity on you and decided to take you under their wing. No one else would want to be an in alliance with a child who could start crying at the drop of a hat."

I nodded, fascinated as I watched her think. I suddenly understood why she managed to bring a handful of tributes back alive. She had this natural intuition that told her things about other people. Her mind seemed to easily be able to figure out a tribute's strengths and calculate how they could use them before the games started.

"So you're saying I shouldn't just stick with the other kids from the Capitol?"

She looked back over at me and sighed, "If you have no other option you can… Neither of us knows how the tributes from the Districts are going to treat all of you. They might hate you, find you interesting, or simply not care. If you can, though, I would seek out someone from the Districts."

"Why?" I asked, already knowing the answer.

"The other kids from the Capitol… They're selfish by nature. None of you know how to survive outside this city. Once you run out of supplies, you'll be on your own with only the knowledge you pick up in training. In fact, I wouldn't be surprised if someone betrays the others on the first day."

I ignored the subtle barb about our selfishness because she was right. Everyone who lived in this city was incredibly selfish, including me. Although I wasn't surrounded by wealth, I put myself and my family above everyone else. In that aspect, I wasn't different from them at all. I was just satisfied that she knew the reason why I shouldn't be aligned with them as well. It meant she wasn't just smart, but she understood me to an extent.

"What do I possibly have to offer to an alliance?"

"That's something you have to figure out," she smiled sadly as she leaned back, "but I can tell you something very true right now. Every single person in Panem, tributes too, will see you as the weakest person to ever enter the games. Not only are you the youngest age you could possibly be, but you're from the Capitol. This makes you the weakest of the weak in their eyes."

"So what do I do then," I asked, slightly frustrated.

"Whether it's true or not doesn't matter. All you can do is play into it. You don't have to act overly weak or innocent, but you have to be realistic. Whoever you approach for an alliance, you have to openly acknowledge the fact that you are the least likely person to win. No one wants to ally with someone who is delusional… But, at the same time, you have to show them what you're showing me right now. Somehow you have to demonstrate that you're smart, dedicated, and determined. Tell them you'll learn anything that they don't know and make up for what they lack."

"I'm not a hindrance. I can be an asset."

"Then make sure to prove it."

We both stared at each other intensely before a Peacekeeper suddenly stepped into our line of vision.

"It's time to head to your next destination."

"Thank you," Miranda smiled at him as she stood up.

I followed suit. The Peacekeeper began to trudge away and both of us followed him. I mulled Miranda's advice in my mind. I tried to decide if that was something I wanted to do… Did I truly want to open myself up to the kids from the Districts or should I just stick with the people I automatically had a spot with? It was a scary decision, but one that might end up making sure I survived past the bloodbath.

I glanced up at the victor beside me and whispered, "Thank you… For believing in me."

She looked back at me with a trace of surprise. She swiftly covered it up and smiled happily, "Not a problem. It's my job to help you as much as I can; no matter where you were born."

I genuinely smiled as we continued to follow the Peacekeeper. I knew from this moment forward things would only get trickier and harder. No one else would believe in me and, in a way, I was on my own. She was right; I was considered the weakest of the weak.

But just knowing that one person had faith in me… Even if she was an older victor from District Ten… It meant something.

It meant I had a chance.

And this ends our first segment! I really loved getting to write these Capitol tributes, especially because they were all so unique and different from one another! It was so exciting to see all of your responses and I'm glad that, so far, this format is working for everyone! Just a heads up, you only have a couple more days to donate to the charity that is linked on my profile! If you were planning on doing that or checking that out, I just wanted to remind you!

Oh, I also love that some of you have this whole ongoing list of who you like/dislike/have feels for. It's nice to be reminded what your first impression was of each tribute!

Anyways, I'll see you next week!

Europa