Hey guys, TheFlameRose here. Sorry I took so long!
This took a bit, but I hope you enjoy :) Sorry for any typos or anything. My head's not been in the game lately /
ONTO THE STORY!
Disclaimer: I don't own the Hunger Games. I only own Laurel, Emery, Luke, Lily, Jack, and Laurel's mom :)
FLASHBACK TO LAST CHAPTER
"Time to eat, girly! Can't have ya starving yourself before the big ol' Arena, can we?"
He let out another bout of laughing, his heavy footfalls thudding unevenly away. Inching up, I got to my feet with a sigh. I pulled my dress back into place, wondering if there was anything I could use to stitch it back together.
Unlocking the door, I allowed myself one last steadying breath before leaving. This wasn't going to be enjoyable.
It took me a bit longer than anticipated to find my way to the dining room. I used my dress to try and fix my face along the way, but after a while, I realized the effort was for nothing. I never had been very skilled at hiding the fact that I cried. It felt like my eyes stayed puffy for hours after, and the blotchiness lasted even longer. Hopefully, these people had to decency to not say anything about it.
"Oh my stars, what happened to your dress? And your lip! You're a mess!" Trinket trilled, jumping up to meet me in the doorway. Her hands fluttered between the broken strap and my face, unsure where to start.
"Thanks for that," I said, trying to step around her only for her to get in my way.
"No no, we'll have none of that. We'll get this strap taken care of," she said with a smile, her brow furrowing a moment later. "Though I'm not sure what to do about that lip of yours. Maybe some ice will do the trick! I'll make sure you get some later this evening."
"That's really not necessary-"
"I must insist! Simply leave the dress out in your quarters and I'll have someone mend it. Now, come sit down and we can all share our first meal together!"
Effie led the way to our spots, gesturing me to take mine with a quick wave of a hand. I sank down in my seat, resisting the urge to close my eyes as tiredness weighed on my bones. Looking up, I wondered how Abernathy was able to keep quiet for so long. From the little I'd seen of him earlier, it felt like quite the feat.
He held a bottle firmly in his grip, tipping its lip to his mouth to take a swig every so often. A surprising amount of clarity was in his expression for the amount of alcohol he looked like he was putting away. As if noticing my scrutiny, his demeanor shifted. He couldn't hold the bottle as well and all his movements gradually became sloppier. Twisting a lock of my hair, I sighed. I needed to stop looking too deep into things. The stress of everything could be messing with my head after all.
Then there was Emery, who even though he would glance in my direction every once and awhile, had yet to say a word. Instead, he kept watching our new mentor in a subdued disdain. The swelling in his eye had gone down a little, but the area was definitely red. Maybe after we were done eating I could ask him about it. With a snort, I wondered how much Effie had pestered him about it before I got there.
"Well, at least you brats aren't skeletons this year! Those scrawny things never make it far in the Arena," Haymitch said with a chuckle, flicking his napkin to its full size before tucking it into his shirt. The abrupt statement took me off-guard, instantly sparking anger.
How dare he, I thought, upper lip curling. Those kids hadn't asked to be tributes. They hadn't been prepared for the fight of their lives. That had enough trouble at home in their own district as the food shortages increased, leaving children as young as three to rummage through garbage to stop their stomachs from growling. He glanced at me, an eyebrow quirking up.
"Whoa there, toots. Don't be a shootin' those daggers my way. I was statin' the truth, and you know it."
"Shut up, you old fool," Emery said, busying himself with his own napkin. When Haymitch only scoffed in response, my temper flared.
"You have no right to say anything about those poor kids," I said with a snarl. The older man had the nerve to laugh at me as he took another swig from his bottle.
"I think I have moruva right to say somethin' than you do, little girl."
I don't know what came over me in that moment, but the next thing I knew my steak knife had sunk into the cabinet behind his head, right in the crack between its two doors. The glass quivered from the impact, but didn't so much as sliver.
Effie gasped, nearly falling out of her chair in her haste to stand.
"...that is mahogany," she whispered, more to herself than any of us.
Haymitch slowly came up from where he ducked below the table, eyes trained on me. He glanced at where the knife had stuck, surprise coloring his features. Emery watched the whole exchange silently, a small smirk forming on his face. I started to take deep breaths, coming back to myself to realize in horror what I had done.
"I think I'll just have my food served in my room. Ta ta for now!" Effie said, carefully sliding her chair back before making a hasty retreat.
I looked from the knife to Haymitch and back again, swallowing hard to try and get rid of the lump in my throat. I had almost killed our mentor. And we weren't even to the Capitol yet.
"I am so sorry," I whispered, feeling tears welling in my eyes even as I tried to stop them. "I don't know what got into me, I-"
"So, not only are ya thicker than the average 12 kid's skin and bones, but you got a bitta fight in you too. Same for you, boy." Emery tensed. "I saw how you handled those vultures outside the train. Interesting. Very interesting..." Haymitch tapped his chin, weighing something in that dense skull of his.
"Alright! Get up, you two. Stand over there!" He commanded, pointing to the more open area of the room. I shared a glance with Emery. He seemed to be as confused as I was, but he followed my lead as I did as our mentor said.
Haymitch took one more swig of his drink before walking over to us, his expression turning into one of a quiet calculation. He started circling us, humming to himself as he went. It felt like we were pigs being appraised by a butcher. Gradually, he made his way back in front of us and folded his arms, his lips pursed.
"Say something," Emery muttered, breaking the silence. Haymitch scowled at him and shook his head, still pondering something. After what felt like eternity, the man cleared his throat and spoke.
"Not good, but not bad. You aren't twigs like most that have gotten to this point. That'll be a slight advantage when yer out there playing their games. You have tempers, which isn't the best, but could be just the thing the Capitol people are looking for in tributes this year." He swirled his drink, took a sip. Grimaced. "Do you have any skills at all you want to tell me about? Maybe something that you're good at?"
Where did he suddenly gain the ability to speak clearly? I thought with a frown.
Focusing on the subject at hand, I looked up at Emery only to find him looking right back at me. There was a sort of reluctance to his features that I couldn't help but empathize with. So, I straightened my back and tilted up my chin, turning to our stubbly-faced mentor with what confidence I could muster.
"Shooting a bow is like second nature to me, and I am decent with a knife. That throw I just did was definitely a fluke, though." I swallowed hard, feeling naked now that I laid my cards on the table. Steeling my nerves again, I nodded towards Emery. "Okay, your turn." He mumbled a curse.
"I don't think I've ever even seen a bow, let alone used one, but I'm pretty well off in hand-to-hand combat. I'm not slow when it comes to running either," he said, clenching his jaw.
Hand-to-hand combat, huh? That what happen to your eye?
Haymitch snorted, pulling a chair over and plopping down as he looked back and forth between us. When no one said anything else, he sighed, rubbing a hand down his face.
"Alright, not bad, but what're you holding back? If I'm going to be mentoring you, I need to know exactly what I can market to get some sponsors. Are you gonna cooperate, or not?" He asked, his tone darkening as he made eye contact again. I bit my lip and glanced away, debating on whether or not to say something. Yes, I was supposed to be honest. Yes, I was supposed to trust him. But there was a part of me that couldn't bring myself to reveal anything else. How could I know if I could really trust either of them? Especially Emery. When it came down to it, I could end up having to kill him out there. Would I really want him to know all my strengths?
"She hunts in the woods with that Everdeen girl. The one who's mom runs the apothecary," Emery said, causing my heart to skip a beat. I jerked to stare at him, but his eyes remained trained on Haymitch. "She's so careful about how she moves that not even the birds can hear her coming before it's too late."
Alright, pretty sure that's impossible, so definitely an exaggeration, I thought, taking a moment to process what he said.
"How do you know that?" I demanded, mind reeling. He kept looking at our mentor, effectively ignoring me. Haymitch smirked, a glint appearing in his eye.
"Good to know," he said, raising the bottle to his lips. "For now, I want you two to go to your bedrooms. I'll have attendants bring you your food in a bit. Until then, try to get some rest. I guarantee that tomorrow will be even worse than today."
Emery barely waited for Haymitch to finish talking when he turned and started walking away, step light and quick as if he hadn't just rattled me to my core. I watched him until he disappeared down the hall, the sound of a door shutting echoing in his wake. Only then did it feel like I could breathe. Haymitch didn't seem to be paying me any mind as I slowly made my own way to the hall, but he did notice when I stopped at the threshold.
"Got something on your mind, brat?"
I hesitated, chancing a glance over my should to see his Seam eyes boring into mine. He took a sloppy swig of his drink, the clear liquid dribbling down his chin. I looked back into his eyes, noting their clarity.
"Why are you pretending?"
He froze, choking a bit on his drink before setting it down. After a beat, a smile broke on his face and he waved away my question like it were nothing.
"What're ya talkin' 'bout?" He chuckled, slipping back into his slurred speech unnervingly easy.
"Drop the act, Abernathy. If you were really drunk right now your breath would burn off my nose hairs, and your eyes would look like glass," I pointed out condescendingly.
"And what makes ya the big bad drunkard expert, brat?" He sneered, sitting back in his chair. I tensed, thoughts of my father dropping my heart into my gut. He seemed to notice the shift in me, his sneer softening into a pitying frown.
"I don't wanna talk 'bout drinkin' here, alright? Not now. I know I gotta problem, but I don't need some brat like you trying to be my therapist," he said, standing up with a slight stagger. He made his way over to me, grabbing my shoulder as he nearly tripped over his own feet.
"Not here, not now," he repeated quietly, squeezing my shoulder meaningfully as he "regained" his balance. "Think I'm gonna go find those attendants. Gotta make sure my tributes eat, right?"
"Right," I agreed, brow furrowed.
"Now, go to yer room and settle down. It'll be a while 'til we reach the Capitol."
Giving me a hardy pat as a farewell, Haymitch set off down the hall, loudly calling out for whoever was listening that he needed food and he need it right now. I put my face in my hands. We were only on the train. We hadn't even made it close to the Capitol yet, and it felt like I had already run out of emotional energy for the forseeable future. Maybe sleeping more would recharge me.
The door shut behind me as I entered my room, but I was not alone. A short, rather pudgy man stood beside a cart next to the bed, completely dressed in white. He set a large covered platter on a side table along with a few smaller plates before exiting without a word. I blinked as I watched him go, taking a moment for my brain to realize what he was doing there. Wow, Haymitch works fast.
I hesitantly made my way over to the platters, unveiling the food he had left me. A variety of exotic meats drizzled with several different glazes met my hungry gaze, but the sight could not hold a candle to the mouthwatering scents that hit my nose. My hands dove in before I could stop them.
Half-way through the platter I realized how unmannerly I was being. I wasn't raised to be a slob. Reluctantly, I stopped stuffing my face and forced myself to wipe my hands off on the napkin the man left for me. Getting them as food-free as I could, I turned away from the plate and walked into the bathroom. I ignored the wonders of it just to get to the sink, nearly melting when the water came out warm instead of cold.
I scrubbed away at my hands, trying to get all the grime off. How had I forgotten Mother's rule of always washing up before a meal? As soon as I was done eating, I definitely needed to get some rest.
After my hands were taken care of, I looked up at myself in the mirror, something I usually never did. That was mostly because we didn't have a mirror to look into, but that was besides the point.
My skin looked ashen due to the coal dust that still coated it despite my efforts that morning. Made me feel like a corpse was staring back at me rather than a person. My black hair was dull and unkempt next to all the brilliantly metallic, top-of-the-line, Capitol-made products that surrounded me. I couldn't even look myself in the eye for fear of what I would see. I grit my teeth and turned off the water, stalking out of there.
I wormed out of my once ivory dress and squeezed my eyes shut, wishing more than anything to be in my own bedroom in my own house. I brought the dress up to my face, holding it close as I breathed in. Wincing at the pressure I put on my lip, I held it at arm's length. May I was imagining things, but I swore I could still smell the sweet scent of the twins on it. I turned to what looked like a wardrobe, opening it in hopes of finding another outfit.
A whole bunch of different shirts and dresses came flooding out in a line, nearly making me to jump out of my skin. A small, holographic screen popped up in front of me, varying options for clothing styles and colors and materials laid out for me to pick from. Some of the choices were things I'd never even heard of. My brow furrowed and I examined it more, clicking on what I thought would be appropriate to sleep in.
The clothes disappeared back into the wardrobe with lightning speed, the exact outfit I had picked out appearing before me with a pleasant ding. Cautiously, I picked up the hanger and took a step back. The wardrobe snapped shut and the screen disappeared, acting as though nothing had happened. If this was how it was on the train going to the Capitol, I didn't think I was ready to know how it was going to be when we got there.
I slipped on the simple clothing, feeling a little more myself. As best as I could, I hung up my mother's dress on the hanger and laid it down on a long table that rested beside my window, the world beyond a blur of colors. I smoothed down the wrinkles and smiled at it, remembering when Mother bought it for me all those years ago. Somehow, I think she knew that this would someday happen, as impossible as that sounded.
I picked the food platter back up and sat down on the edge of my bed, grabbing what looked like a remote on my way. Pointing it at what I assumed to be a television, I pressed the power button. I started to cut my food with a knife and eat it with a fork, like a proper lady.
Mother would be ever so proud of me, I thought with a smile.
The TV came to life, airing what looked like today's Reapings. Deciding that sleep could wait a little bit longer, I settled in a little bit and watched, looking for who I needed to avoid if I wanted to stay alive.
District 1's Reaping had just ended, and all I caught a glimpse of was a drop-dead gorgeous girl beside a just as handsome boy, both dressed in outrageous clothing. Typical of the Luxury District. Getting sponsors would be easy enough for them based on looks alone.
District 2 was announced by Caesar Flickerman, the man as lively as ever. Their escort was as colorful and over-the-top as Effie, and I couldn't help but wonder if there was a certain style criteria escorts had to have in order to be picked for the job. The escort barely got halfway through calling out the male tribute's name before a beast of a boy surged forward, volunteering for the spot as tribute. He was massive. Muscles on top of muscles. I don't even think we had anyone back home that...built. He towered over the escort, looking straight at the camera menacingly. Cato Wynters. He was probably going to be the biggest threat out of all the tributes this year, at least physically. The female tribute that volunteered next looked like a toddler next to him, but there was a certain glint in her eyes that made her seem just as dangerous as the boy.
Note to self: Avoid District 2 at all costs.
District 3 wasn't nearly as impressive as District 2, seeing as though the kids weren't nearly as well fed as those in the Masonry District were, but there was something more to the tributes. An intelligence I had yet to see in the previous four. I made a mental note to keep an eye on them.
Then, there was District 4. I always did like that district, if anything just because they got to see clear, beautiful water every day. Their escort was more subdued than the others, but it was still obvious she was from the Capitol. They picked the girl tribute first, and no one volunteered. She was surprisingly weak-looking for a Career tribute, but looks could be deceiving. Her stringy, pale blonde hair reminded me of a girl I knew back home's named Delly, but all resemblance ended there. I felt a little sad as I realized she would probably be one of the first of the Careers that would die.
The boy tribute was the complete opposite of this girl. The escort called him Finnick Odair, and it was apparent right away that he would be a highly valued tribute. His skin was sun-kissed from all the days of being out on the water and fishing. His bronze-colored hair curled around his boyish looks, and I watched as the escort started fanning herself as she drank him in with her eyes. Disgusting. He grinned at the cameras and waved, already trying to win over the crowds.
Maybe I should have done that. I mean, I could have at least tried. No, it would've felt like a cheap tactic to gain audience appeal.
Claudius Templesmith commented that this boy could possibly pull the most sponsors they've ever had in the history of the Hunger Games. I pursed my lips but couldn't help but agree with him. The boy seemed to be the complete package of what the ideal tribute should be. I was going to have to keep my guard up if I ever came in contact with him.
The rest of the districts blurred together, only a few really standing out. There was a brother and sister from District 7, and it was obvious that they were distraught over it. There was a crippled girl from District 9 who only had one eye and one hand. In District 11, a little twelve-year-old boy was picked, but unlike Prim, nobody stepped up and volunteered for him. The girl that was picked after him was tall and broad, built from no doubt countless hours of manual labor. I caught the quick flick of her eyes over to the boy. I couldn't be positive, but I swore it was a protective look. That was both a good thing and a bad thing. If she was planning on protecting the boy it would obviously benefit him, but it would make it that much harder for everyone else.
And last but not least, there was District 12. I cringed. I didn't want to see this. Living it was enough. Just as I reached for the remote, Primrose Everdeen's name got called. The cameras weren't ready for a volunteer and it was obvious. Multiple angles flickered across the screen as they tried to find me in the crowd. Faces of shock blurred in and out, some familiar and some strangers. Ceasar turned to Claudius, taking a dramatic moment to really hit home the surprise of the turn of events. Then the cameras found me, and I couldn't help thinking about how different I looked.
A fire burned in my blue eyes I never knew I had, and just like that I was sucked back into the moment. I watched as I looked to the side, knowing I was looking at Katniss, knowing what I was trying to tell her without words. In a split second, past me's expression changed and she took off, shooting out of the crowd and clutching Prim like she was the only thing in the world that could save her. Her long, dark hair looked like it was floating around them, the wind lifting it in an almost angelic way. And then she repeated those damning four words.
"I volunteer as tribute!"
Caesar and Claudius dropped their jaws as they looked at the replay. Ceasar composed himself and spoke up, never one to remain speechless for long.
"It, um, appears someone has stepped up and volunteered this year, huh, Claudius?" He said in disbelief, exchanging a surprised glance with his co-host.
Emery's reaping passed with little fanfare, but I saw the same recognition in his eyes through the screen as I did when we were there in person, meaning I hadn't imagined it. Maybe it was because people were still trying to understand why I would volunteer, but no one in the crowd seemed to react to Emery's name getting called. It was like nobody knew him, or maybe nobody cared. I frowned.
"It looks like this year's Games will be the most thrilling yet!" Caesar said, his grin feeling completely out of place. Claudius nodded in agreement, licking his lips before talking.
"Stay tuned, next will be an interview with none other than Seneca Crane-!" I turned off the screen with a click, placing the remote back where it belonged before doing the same with my dirty dishes.
Crawling under the too-soft covers of the bed, I curled up tight, cradling my head with my arms. I wasn't used to having this big of a bed to sleep in, since I shared the one at home with Luke and Lily, so there wasn't exactly room for my legs to be at night. But I didn't mind. I had the two most precious people in the world beside me every time I went to sleep. Having a bed this big only emphasized how alone I was now.
Willing away tears, I tucked my face into my arm, waiting for sleep to finally end this day and take me to the blissful nothingness of my dreams.
Updated as of June 10th, 2021.
A/N: Did you enjoy? I hope so. It would make me happy :)
I'll try to start updating things more frequently, but nothing is guaranteed. So...Yeah.
Shout-outs to these awesome peeps! : Lovely Lexie and The Loved and Unloved!