Everyone freezes for a moment; truly unable to believe that is the way our parents chose to walk out of our lives. I am so happy for Abrielle; she only had to be in their venomous presence for seven short years.
I don't have time to think much longer, because the door flutters open and a surge of relief spreads through my body at the warming sight of Sage. The peacekeepers slam the door once more, but my senses don't even pick up on anything but a distressed looking Sage. He stands in the doorway looking like a fresh spring rose that wilted under the afternoon heat of the dazzling summer sun. His inky hair looks frazzled, and somehow his shadowy eyes look more full of soot then I remember. His pale lips are slightly parted, panting like he had to maneuver through a crowd of waiting fans to get to us. Without speaking, he waves his hand suggesting we come closer to him. Abrielle is the first one to him, running faster than the day Atticus and I found a few dollars on the street and told her to come with us and buy a new dress. She wraps her tiny arms around him as he bends down to pick her up and swings her around while she giggles uncontrollably.
"Oh, I'm going to crave that laugh so much while your gone, little miss." Sage sighs, stroking her hair and swaying back and forth towards Atticus and I with her wrapped up in his muscular arms.
"What else are you going to miss about us?" Abrielle says happily.
"I'm going to miss the way you get your M's and N's mixed up when I tutor you. I'm going to miss the way you hum me songs after a long day of work. I'm going to miss the sound of you racing your brother and sister through the gravel to my front door." Sage says sadly. He reaches the couch, where he settles at the edge with Abrielle still curled up in his arms. I'm in the middle, and Atticus rests on my other side.
"What are you going to miss about Ariana?" Abrielle asks sweetly.
"I'm going to miss lots of things about Ariana too," Sage answers, patting my folded hands.
"I'm going to miss the shape of your smile that I feel like I never see enough. I'm going to miss you sneaking over to my house at night to sing Abrielle to sleep. I'm going to miss the sound of the door opening when you visit me on my lunch break." Sage says grimly.
I mash my lips together and nod gently. I can't even bear to meet Sage's eyes. A pang of grief hits me only momentarily. He has to watch the three of us, basically his children, kill other people, turn into savages, starve, freeze, but worst of all- die. And there isn't a single thing he can do about it.
"Now what about Atticus?" Abrielle presses on.
My head stops spinning as I breath in the sweet smell of new books and teacher pens radiating from Sage. In this moment, I feel almost at ease. We're not discussing strategy, or staying alive, or our skills or any of that nonsense and in a way in has a calming effect on me. Sage knows Atticus and I are strong and quick and witty, and he already knows from the look in our eyes we will bring Abrielle home to him where she will stay for the rest of his life. Sage believes in us.
"Atticus was like a son to me, Abrie. I'm going to miss him very much." Sage bows his head slightly.
"But you're going to see him again? After the Games you will?" Abrielle insists, twisting herself in his arms so she faces him.
"Possibly, if the odds are ever in my favor…" Sage trails off.
My heart plummets and shatters somewhere near my belly button when the peacekeepers yank the door open and charge into the room, ordering Sage out. Sage pulls us all very close and whispers a very strange string of words that clash together and ring in my ears.
"I love you all."
The peacekeepers tug on Sage shirt collar, but he resists, pulling us all close one last time. My body goes cold as Sage pulls away from us, Abrielle calling his name in distress. Her little arms scratch and pull in the air, the peacekeepers driving her away from Sage and back to Atticus and I. Sage is nearly out the door, and my eyes soak in every detail of his face, even though it is very drained and not how I'd like to remember him.
"We're going to win for you Sage! I'll kill every bloody kid in the arena if it means one of us comes back to you!" I scream defiantly, not bothering to look at Atticus or Abrielle's faces.
The door is inches away from being slammed for the final time; I can already hear the familiar sound ringing in my ears. The last thing I see before Sage vanishes behind the door in a single tear flowing down from his somber eyes.
...
The cameras flash and flicker on my every step to board the train. It feels as if I'm walking in slow motion, my eyes pick up on every burst of light in the crowd, but I'm blocking out all noise. It's like being underwater in the small river behind the Medic Alcove; you can hold you're breath and lay at the bottom of the stream to look up, viewing every harsh glint of sun and bursts of water rushes over you, but you can't hear a single chirp of noise coming from above the water. Yasmin's heels click across the platform, she's waving and grinning beside us like she's in a pageant. Her close-fitting dress looks like it might rip any minute, but I wouldn't think it too tragic because it's absolutely ghastly against her figure with small ruffles every inch and a keyhole in the back that shows more than necessary.
Atticus exchanges a glance with me and I remember what game we're playing. Everything snaps back to real time as Atticus leans over to me a whispers a secret behind his cupped hand.
"Watch this, flip your hair."
I'm suspicious at first, but understand the Capitol craves a little cockiness, brash, even arrogance because it makes them want you more. It's pathetic, really. I toss a careless hand through my hair and steal a glance into the crowd with my typical fierce glare. The photographers go mad as a hatter as Atticus wraps an arm around Abrielle and my waist, striding through the train station like a team. As we step onto it, I smirk to the camera as Yasmin shuts the door behind me. Her back against the entryway, she swipes off her black glasses that resemble cat eyes with diamonds dusted on the tips as she bites the ends between her crimson lips and stares at us. She's really a towering woman, her stilettos unnecessary, and her eyes are blue like mine.
"That was absolutely fabulous!" Yasmin sneers, wrapping a finger around her snow blond hair. "Have we already started acting for the camera?"
"It's not an act." I say shortly, turning on my heels and making my way to the dining room where Yarrow's family and the Victors are seated.
"She's always like that? I can show you what a REAL lady is supposed to be like." Yasmin gossips coolly.
I clench my hands into fists, digging my nails into my palms. Yarrow is seated at the table, rocking the baby boy gently while the girl is wrapped up in the chair next to him. Virgil and Pax sit at the end of the table, not speaking. The full realization of their divine, unearthly beauty hits as their eyes trickle over at the sound of the glass sliding open. I don't see them much in District 5; they keep to themselves in Victor's Village. Virgil is fascinatingly beautiful, but I can tell from the wandering of her eyes she's disconnected from the rest of us. She's petite like me, with wavy black hair as dark as a starless evening sky and she has green eyes. Her skin so pale, almost bloodless, and I can see veins twisted inside her hands. She's angular and thin, her bones sticking out sharply. It seems strange to me that she is the same Victor with post-traumatic stress after the Quell five years ago. Her hands are in fists, and she is grinding it in a continuous pattern on the table almost as if she's carving something in wood. Her hand is bright red, raw from rubbing the surface of the table over and over again. She murmurs to herself angrily, lips fluttering softly.
Pax sits next to her, playing absentmindedly with a strand of her hair. I saw Pax snap one year at the Victory Tour, only six months after his Games, but he tries so hard to be strong for Virgil. He's much healthier than her, not quite as jagged. Pax is also very beautiful, with curly blond hair but eyes the color of dark chocolate. A smile plays at his red lips as the door slams. The two of them look like illustrations in an old fairy-tale book Atticus read to me. Wordlessly, Pax stands and pulls out a chair for me to sit next to him. Atticus and Abrielle file in, Yasmin sucked onto Atticus' arm like a leech.
"Well, let's start talking about your skills, strategy, technique, all that fun stuff." Yasmin says after tearing herself away from Atticus.
"That's really up to the Victor's. I don't think we need to discuss that right now-" Pax requests lightly.
"Ariana," Yasmin interrupts. "You first."
I slam my fist down on the table, Yarrow glaring at me for almost waking the baby, but before I let my atrocities slip out Pax stands abruptly. He looks at me horrified for a moment, tears swimming in his eyes. He swipes a hand through his hair in distress before he turns to Yasmin.
"You promised…"
Yasmin smirks and crosses her arms at the other end.
"Oops." She says in an uninterested voice.
Pax sits down hurriedly and wraps his arms around Virgil, her hand still and no longer beating the table, and whispers something in her ear. She looks limp in his arms, but suddenly balls his shirt up in her fist and slams them into his chest. She now looks directly to me, brushing her dark curtain of hair from her eyes, and releases a blood-curling scream that rings in my ears. Abrielle clutches the table as the scream shutters down my spine. Virgil snatches a plate, swinging it against the table until it shatters in two, and launches to my throat. I leap gracefully out of the way, but it clips my hip and I feel a sensation so intense and hot that it spreads through my whole body until I feel hot blood oozing out.
"She's dead Virgil! Your Ariana died a long, long time ago. She's not coming back, Virgil, she's dead in her grave!" Pax yells out above the cry of the babies and sound of glass shattering.
Virgil throws her self against the nearest wall, forearms flat above her head steadying her and looks down in defeat. She breathes deeply, in and out. Finally, she looks at me and covers her mouth with her hands in shock.
"I'm so sorry." She whispers faintly before trudging out of the dining room. Pax tries to follow.
"Please stay with them. I don't want them alone with that obnoxious Capitolite." I can't help but thinking I might actually like Virgil.