Author's Note: For few people reading this, thank you! Sorry that it's a bit shorter than the other chapters… I hope plot & character development makes up for it!
Chapter 4: The Train Ride (Part 2)
I woke up to someone screaming. I was out of my bed and into the hall. A bedroom was open; that one was empty. The next one was open and dark, and I heard fumbling around. Marcus cursed as he hit his toe against something, then flicked on a lamp.
I was at Orpheus's side. He was crying out and jerking on the bed.
"Wake up!" I was trying to shake him.
"Cleo-"Marcus started to say something.
"No!" Orpheus's voice was a whimper. "Virginia!" His hands reached out, grabbing me. I was pulled down onto him—I think rather unintentionally.
The sudden weight on his chest caused him to wake up, gasping. I pulled up slightly.
"Rough night?" I asked him.
He stared at me for a moment. "Did I hurt you?" He asked me, ignoring my question. Figures.
"Nah, I'm fine," I responded. "Really though, are you okay?" I asked him.
He blinked. "I'm fine…I think."
"Just great…" Marcus mumbled. I shot him a glare. He looked into my eyes, rather defiantly. Like he was daring me. "The one mentor…" I got the hint.
"Back off," I told him. "He won the first Hunger Games. Show some respect." I stared at Marcus.
Marcus, who'd been leaning against the wall, walked to Orpheus. "If you're not up to this-"
"I'm up to this," he snapped, sitting up. I sat by his feet.
"Let me finish, okay? If you're not up to this whole mentoring thing, tell me before the other districts get an advantage. Should I be looking for a co-mentor?" He asked him.
"No. I'm helping the tribute that I think can win. The other one fends for themselves." Orpheus replied.
I closed my eyes. That was me, wasn't it? Even though Nixon was stuck up, he'd been on a sports team. He was stronger and probably faster than me. He had muscles everywhere while I only had them in my fingers from clothes making or repairing.
"Maybe we shouldn't be discussing this in front of the little cub…" Marcus said softly. "Cleo, are you alright?"He asked me.
"I'm going to die, aren't I? There's no hope for me in the games. The Careers trained for this. I have nothing." All of this had just suddenly dawned on me. Hope felt like it was gone, and it wasn't coming back.
Orpheus wrapped his arms around my waist and pulled me onto his lap. "I'm not helping Nixon," he whispered into my ear.
It was still loud enough for Marcus to hear. He closed his eyes and sighed. "Thank god," he said softly.
I relaxed in Orpheus's arms. With the District 7 Victor's help, could I win the Games?
Hope was a spark. If treated right, it could grow into a blazing fire. I could kindle hope.
"Can I sleep in here?" I asked Orpheus.
He smiled a little bit. "Fine by me," he said and then looked at Marcus. "As long as he's cool with it."
Marcus stared at him for a moment, as if he hadn't heard what we'd said. He blinked before responding. "Hm? Oh, yes, I suppose that's fine." He told us, "Good night then. I hope you both sleep easier." Marcus walked out.
I hadn't registered til then he was shirtless. With his back to me, I saw he had a tattoo on his shoulder. Gems were encrusted on his skin, clearly standing out against his smooth skin. How could someone do that to their body? Well, at least it was more normal then other thing the citizens of the Capitol could do… I think.
I put my head against Orpheus's chest as we laid down. He smelled like pine trees and smoke. It was rather intoxicating.
I fell into a peaceful sleep—no nightmares, just dreams. I'm not sure where I was, exactly. It was an enclosed garden, a small waterfall silhouetted by glass walls and ceilings. It felt tropical, with exotic plants all over the place.
I was on a stone bench, and I felt lighter—as if a huge burden had been lifted off my shoulders. I felt like I could breath, but there was also sorrow.
I got up and looked at something. A stone carved with symbols I didn't understand.
A tombstone.
I woke up, held tightly by Orpheus. He was still asleep… Sun shined in from the window, across his face.
I had my chin on his chest as I looked at his face. The scar wasn't as bad as some people said it was. It was a faint mark across his eye. His actually eye had been healed, but the interworking parts in it (I couldn't find any other way to describe it—I came from District 8, where there are factories. Not 1 or 2 with eye doctors,) couldn't be healed. Or he hadn't wanted them to be fixed. The stories varied depending on who was telling them.
His skin was rather pale, his scar standing out, as well as his jet black hair. His face was angular, not unappealing at all. Rather pleasing, actually…
I was still looking at him when his eyes opened. Light green eyes, like faded spring leaves. His right eye was cloudy, and it was clear to see.
"Good morning," I told him, bringing my hands under my chin, on his chest.
"Good morning," he said back to me. "Sleep well?" He asked me.
"Much better, thanks, and you?" I responded.
"No more nightmares… So I suppose I can't complain," he told me.
"That's always a good thing," I told him, retuning to lying my head on his chest.
"We should get up," he told me softly, "Before Marcus starts hounding us."
I sighed, moving off of him. We got up and I shuffled my feet, half way to the door before he stopped me. "Thank you," he told me simply.
"For what?" I asked him, kind of confused.
"For being there when you didn't have to be." He explained.
"You're welcome," I told him, then went closer and hugging him. I surprised him, and it took him a second to hug me back. But it was warm, and I liked it. I liked his arms around me. I felt safe in those arms.
We pulled away and I walked right across the hall and went through the drawers in my room to find a decent change of clothes.