Sage once told me when you're around someone so much, for so long, they become apart of you, and when they go away, you don't know who you are without them. I never really understood this, because for a while there was nobody I cared so much if I lost them. I wasn't afraid. Sage was young, healthy, and liked by most of District 5. Atticus and Abrielle were under my protection, unreachable. Safe. My parents I care less about. It's now that I understand the inescapable danger we're all in that Sage's words make sense.
I can feel her tugging on the itchy black fabric of my skirt. The seams stretch in her tiny hands, nearly bursting under the pressure. It's urgent, I can tell from her strength, but I can't help her. I just sit. I'm stone. Distant. Staring unblinkingly in the vacant television, still seeing every emotion in my rival's eyes.
"Ariana, please!" The tiny voice pleads, it snaps me away from the sound of cannon fire, but the voice is seemingly far away.
"ARI!" Abrielle flares sharply.
I swivel to her, my body still clenched and rigid, and instinctively snatch her in my arms. I take in the sweet smell of her hair; it's like fresh peppermint. She melts into me, but I can tell she is taken aback by my sudden awakening from the television screen.
"So you were watching too?" I whisper into her hair.
"Yes."
I pull her closer to me, trying to ignore the stares of several avox as they pass our doorway. It hits me that it's almost all over, everything Atticus and I do for her. Only one can win, and Atticus and I have an unspoken rule that we have to save our Abrielle, neither of us could bear to return to District 5 without her clenching our hands. When Abrielle returns, she will no longer be a little girl, but a young lady. She will go on the Victory tour alone. She will sign autographs alone. She will sleep in her bed in Victors Village alone.
She's just my little girl. I think.
Delicately, Abrielle raises her head, the smell of peppermint still lingering, and pulls me to my feet and over to her room. Atticus is there, turning down her sheets with a dazzling white smile. She slithers into the bed while Atticus and I smooth her blankets and sit at the end, alert for whatever request she might make.
"Everything I'm running away from… is in my head," Abrielle pauses, blinking back the tears. "I can still see the look in some of their eyes. Like Eve and Ioana and I…" She grasps handfuls of hair, balling it in fists as if her hair is the only thing keeping her held down to the Earth. She rocks herself gently, thumping the backboard in rhythm. I reach for her longingly, wanting ever so badly to hold her and whisper into her ear how everything is going to be okay, but she pushes me back. My ghostly white hand is frozen in the air for a moment as I let the feeling of rejection set in. Atticus pulls my hand back and holds it in his grip as if Abrielle's touch just burnt it.
"I just want to be fearless." Abrielle pleads, still rocking herself against the backboard.
Thump.
Thump.
Thump.
"Tell me how you do it."
Thump.
Thump.
Thump.
Abrielle squeezes her eyes shut very tightly, her fingers still hopelessly entangled in her hair, and I turn away into Atticus' shoulder. I can't bear to watch her suffer and know she doesn't want me. Not right now.
"It's impossible to be fearless. Instead, you have to learn how to control your fear. Be free from it." Atticus soothes her before I can even open my mouth to speak.
"But you two—" Abrielle begins.
"Are driven by the fear of losing you," I interrupt, speaking into Atticus' shoulder. "That is why we seem so brave."
The thumping stops, everything is still. Everything is silent, except in my head. My head floods with emotions, like the small river behind the Medic Alcove after a bad storm. Again and again I feel my heart beat in my ears, it reminds me I'm here to protect Atticus and Abrielle, even though I feel like the abandoned child that needs protection.
"You know, this is really nice. I never had one of these at home." Abrielle says suddenly.
"A big room?" Atticus and I say in unison.
"A bed." She exhales, closing both eyes.
I turn away from Atticus shoulder and sweep my hand away from his grip and smooth Abrielle's hair.
"Abrielle, you had a bed at Sage's house." I remind her gently.
"Well yes. But not at Mother and Father's house, which is what many people call home. Where we were born and get mail delivered." She says grimly.
It's true. At Mother and Father's we had to sleep on sheets on plastic, they crinkled and cried whenever you would toss and turn in your sleep. The needle-like rocks that littered the floor plunged into our skin and stung constantly like a particularly bad bee sting. One winter, it was bitterly cold and most everyone- including Atticus- became very ill. Mother and Father knew us too good, so they kept close watch on us that winter. My parents knew that we would obviously abandon them for Sage, and they were quite offended that we would sneak off to Sage's house to wait off the cold and get an occasional meal. Sage always walked us home after school or Abrielle's tutoring, and would stall whenever we got to the front door. He never liked Mother and Father much, but he knew better than to stir up a fight. Nearly everyday, he would present us with blankets and quilts, but Mother and Father would seize them in the middle of the night and assure Sage we didn't need them.
That one winter was different. Atticus seemed fragile walking home that evening from his illness, and poor Sage was distraught from his lacking ability to help us, so he snuck Atticus his coat through the window to fight the icy wind until District 5 got a new shipment of medication. Atticus slept soundly in his new coat while I hugged Abrielle as close to me as I could, for if she was to get sick her dainty little body would not to be able to fight the virus. It was one of the hardest nights to get through in my entire life, but I knew morning was coming and Sage would be back with piping hot tea and the sun would dazzle on the snow as he walked us to school.
In the morning, Abrielle's cheeks were rosy as was her nose, but I figured she was still cold from the night before. Throughout the day, she had a croaking, consistent cough that nearly doubled her over. The district still hadn't gotten medicine, and I was solicitous that we only might have a few hours more with her. I can't remember much about that night, but two things stick out among the blur. I remember I never let her out of my arms for hours. Not even for Atticus or Sage to hold. Secondly, Atticus wrapped her frail toddler body in Sage's coat that night and snuggled her between us, shielding her from the cold. I still remember a quick flash of his pained, begging eyes as a particular chilling gust of wind hit him, but he never whispered a word, he just scooted closer to Abrielle and I. From that night on, Abrielle sleeps in Sage's old coat. Atticus and I wake up with cuts and scrapes, but they seemed to heal instantly when I saw Abrielle was unharmed as always.
"Home is wherever we're together. You and me and Ariana, remember that." Atticus kisses her forehead lightly, bringing me back.
"It's getting late," I pretend to scold her as I reach to turn out her bedside light. "We better go back to our rooms and get to sleep."
"No! You can't leave yet!" Abrielle's eyes flutter open.
I look at her curiously.
"Tell me about… the ocean." She smirks slyly.
"I thought you'd never ask!" Atticus' velvet voice tickles my ear.
Abrielle pulls Atticus and I to lie down next to her, just like the biting winter night so many years ago when Abrielle slept in Sage's coat. We settle in close to her, and she yawns dramatically, signaling it's my time to start her favorite story. There's a little bit of a rivalry between us, you see. I believe there is an ocean out there, however far away it may be. Atticus and Abrielle don't. In my old fairytale book, there was an enchanting picture of thundering waves, twisting at the tips. The water was gorgeous, a clear blue with touches of light green. The bottom had creatures, hundreds of them, with different shapes and popping colors that my eyes feasted on. The shells were warped with different looking textures and designs just waiting to be touched. I was in love.
Atticus and Abrielle doubt it's out there somewhere. They think it just belongs in the fairytale in the book, the author just made it up one day. I argue that District 4 was in charge of fishing, and the creatures that darted across the pages behind each other were definitely fish, so this "ocean" must be where District 4 gets all their fish. Of course, they're still stubborn on the subject. Abrielle still likes me to explain it to her, describe it as she falls asleep.
"This is the most enchanting place on Earth. People travel for days to get to the ocean, but something so large isn't inside Panem, but outside." I whisper soothingly, more worried about getting her to sleep on this stupid train.
"Rubbish." Atticus sighs, but Abrielle presses her finger to his lips. This is basically a routine to her.
"Some people have a passion to see this ocean. When the very few people on Earth find it, it's a scene they can't ever forget. The rolling hills of the white sand open up and before you are the crystal blue ocean waves crashing against the sun-kissed sand." I pause for a moment. Abrielle is still against Atticus' chest. Both of them have their eyes closed, enjoying, but certainly disbelieving, my story.
"The sun heats every inch of your soul, filling you, warming you, as you walk along the waves. You crave this warmth… Even if you're not sure it exists yet." Abrielle's drifting into sleep, I notice. Her lips form a small smile as I refer to her and Atticus, but her breathing becomes heavy again as sleep entices her.
"The sun lowers itself behind islands that pop out of the water in the far distance. The sunset colors the cloudless sky every shade you can think of: lavender, tinted gold, terra cotta. You may never leave this beautiful place." My eyelids flutter a bit as Abrielle's breathing escapes her lips. The train rocks me to sleep, but I fight it determined to finish the story for Atticus.
"Along with the sky, the water seems to darken. A tree with huge leaves bends into the shore. Entranced by the dark waters, you perch on it and peek out into the everlasting." My words become slower and softer, my eyes fighting unsuccessfully to stay open.
"The water still falls in rhythm, but the only thing you can see are stars dusted above you in the inky sky." Sleep threatens to take me; it reaches out to pull me under.
"Maybe it is really out there…"Atticus hums faintly.
"Yes, it is." I say, turning my head slightly to look him in the eyes.
"Kidding. Goodnight, Ariana." Atticus chuckles smugly.
"Goodnight, Atticus."