Author's Notes:
I am overwhelmed with joy from the reviews and messages I have received! I love the feedback! I will try to update in the next day or so!
So…. Without further ado…..
Enjoy
RavenStoryteller RavenStoryteller RavenStoryteller RavenStoryteller RavenStoryteller
The sharp hissing of the bus's brakes wakes me from my pleasant slumber, immediately followed by the rustling of bags as people hurry to exit. Why does everyone always fight to get off the bus first? It's the same everywhere really; on airplanes, in movie theaters, when exiting amusement park rides. I'm sorry, but waiting just seems to make more sense. Why rush and bump into God knows how many people, just so you can get off two minutes sooner? Besides, waiting allows me to take care in gathering my belongings, and the feeling that I may have left something behind in my haste won't come back to haunt me later.
The familiar smells of the Capitol fill my senses. The salt water breezes from this morning are nowhere to be found, and in its place stands the mixture of century old factories and pavement. It is truly intoxicating, and I had no idea how much I missed it. It would have been easier to hide in District 4, but it wouldn't have been so close to home. But then again, I haven't had a true home in years. Home is just another thing he has stolen from me.
Stop. Let it go. Don't let him get to you.
The lights shine brighter than the stars do over the city. I would love nothing more than to take in the site but I have to focus. Find shelter; safety. Where to start? What are you doing? You have no idea where to go! What did you get yourself into? Great, even my own mind is against me now.
While most of the others from the bus are greeted by loved ones, thrown into a warm embrace, my arms are left cold. There is no one for me here. I am alone.
I…. am….alone.
I consolidate my bags, stuffing my purse into my duffle and slinging over my shoulder, then putting my backpack on over top. My appearance has shifted from traveler to commuter. One thing I have learned in my 17 short years while vacationing, is never look like a tourist. Tourists are easy targets. Think about it. Tourists don't know the area, they are rarely certain of their direction, and they are preoccupied by everything except their surroundings. Sure I've been downtown many times before, but this time was different. Leaving was not in the cards this time around. And I had nowhere to go. I had to make this work.
"Tribute Street. Mockingjay Park is on Tribute Street. The breeze comes off the Harbor, so it must be this way." I stop, realizing I am already talking to myself. This is going to be a long night.
The urban skyline truly is amazing. Building of varying age, spanning centuries give way to billboards and sky ramps which seem to have taken the place normally occupied by trees. It's a different kind of beautiful, one that I am certainly not used to. Nothing about this situation is "classic Katniss". I have spontaneously flipped my whole world upside down, and yet I am content. I never thought I would be here, and yet I feel as though I should have been here all along.
The wrought iron gates to Mockingjay Park are cold against my palms and bring me back from my thoughts. Despite my preoccupation with maintaining my composure and my bearings, I find I have once again spaced out, and for quite a while as it seems. By now, the sun is almost set, and the once refreshing breeze now sends shivers down my neck.
Focus, Katniss. Find a safe place to sleep.
But there is none. At this time of day, local shelters are surely full, and everywhere I think to look is either already occupied or is completely unsettling.
So I trek on. Down through the alleyways and back streets, just in case one may contain a secure place to rest my head. I'm running out of time as the sun has almost set, and I am reminded by the breeze that the Capitol is much too cold for the District 4 attire I am still wearing.
Alas, I can't help but to take in my surroundings, relishing in deep breathes I suddenly feel free enough to take. I have never felt so alive.
When my feet finally stop, I find myself in a familiar place in front of Casa Dei Sogni. My stomach growls reminding me that I haven't eaten since the night before at my last dinner with my family.
My family. That night at the restaurant had been so full of love and happy memories. Playfully teasing about Prim's childhood habits, joking about how she would fair in high school next year, reminiscing about the good old days of softball with my dad, filling him in on what my former teammates were up to, and my mom and I planning a girls only spa day for later in the week. The smile I started my thought with was now washed away with the lone tear that has now fallen.
However, that is now my past and I must remain positive about the future. Cato can't have that too.
Walking up to the giant glass door, I grasp the gold plated handle and pause before opening it. "The first step in a happier tomorrow is a pleasant today" I whisper to myself.
The welcoming smells of olive oil and garlic amplify the hunger in my belly. And as I close my eyes an inhale the sweet aroma, I am greeted once again by the lively hostess.
"Hey I remember you! Welcome back! Table for one right?" she asks with a chipper smile.
"Am I that pathetic eating alone that I'm that easy to remember?" my question sounds bitterer aloud.
"Actually, no." she lowers her head, embarrassed. "I actually remembered the Mockingjay pin on your purse. I've been a huge fan since I was little. It reminds me of one my dad used to have."
The memory seems to bring more pain to her eyes. I look down at my pin, giving it a small smile before removing it from my bag.
"Here" I say, extending the pin to the hostess.
"Oh no! I couldn't! I…" she attempts to brush off my gesture.
"Seriously, I insist." Offering her the token once again with a smile. "Consider it a tip for excellent service and a seat with a great view."
"Wow! Thank you…" she pauses.
"Katniss. My name is Katniss."
"Annie." Her face beaming with excitement. "Well thanks Katniss, really. You have no idea what this means to me."
"I'm happy to do it. Just remember to pay it forward."
"Well, as promised, please follow me to the best seat in the house." She leads me to the same booth as before with an ideal view of both the harbor and the kitchen.
Unlike before, about half the tables are full now, occupied with a mix of families, couples and friends. One thing strikes deep in my heart.
I am the only table of one.
" So…. My Annie tells me you are the reason she can't stop smiling." The handsome server, Finnick I think, has broken my darker thoughts. "Glad you liked the chef's specialty enough to come back." He remembers me as well.
"It was nothing really. Glad to do it. Besides, I was in the neighborhood and couldn't pass up you're impeccable service either." My sly compliment seems to fuel his ego more.
"Well then, I don't think I can let such kind act go unnoticed, nor that gracious compliment. Will you trust the chef again this evening? I don't need to tell you that you won't be disappointed." His charm seems to radiate through his smile and reflect in his piercing green eyes.
"As always." He nods and takes the menu I didn't even bother to open.
As he disappears into the kitchen, I can vaguely make out his telling the chef to give me the "VIP treatment".
About twenty minutes or so pass, until Finnick emerges from the kitchen, tray proudly held high. Then, in one seamless motion, rotates the tray to set it on the stand next to my table.
"Madame, our chef's famous Lamb Stew with dried plums. And, at my insistence, cheese buns. You're gonna want to dip those in the stew. It's truly life changing."
"Wow! I have never had lamb stew or cheese buns. Sounds interesting." I say back, suddenly unsure of my decision to trust the chef.
"I'll be back in a moment to check on you." He leaves to start closing up the dining room, as Annie locks the front doors for the night.
The second he turns his back to me I dive into my first bite of stew. The meat is so tender; it melts as it passes my lips. The plums are slightly chewy, like raisins, adding sweetness to the palate that is surprising yet perfect. And when I dip a cheese bun into the remaining broth, all the flavors seems to dance playfully on my tongue. The perfect melody. And before I know it, I am soaking up the last of the stew with my only remaining cheese bun, licking my fingers afterwards.
"Well I suppose I can tell the chef you liked it." Finnick says when he returns to refill my glass of water.
"That… was… amazing! I'm sorry to say the chef's days of surprising me are over. I'm going to have to have this from now on."
He smiles and leaves, saying nothing more. A few minutes later, he returns with a bag and the bill. "For you, Miss. The chef said he would rather someone enjoy it rather than it get thrown away." I peek into the bag to find a to-go container of stew and four cheese buns.
Normally my pride would insist on protesting the offering of free food, but I know I'll need food for tomorrow. "Thank you. For everything."
"My pleasure." He smiles and walks away. When I open the check book, all that stares back at me is a note.
"Anytime VIP - chef P"
I approach Annie, inquiring about my bill.
"Have a good night, Katniss." Is all she says as she unlocks and holds open the door for me to exit.
Their kindness overwhelms me, and as the first happy tears I have cried in almost forever fill my eyes, all I can do I nod in appreciation as I exit out into the cool city once again.
Once again, I am alone. Shuffled steps lead me to a set of benches around the corner. I sit as the yells of a couple fighting in the alley my latest muse.
All couples fight I suppose. It's kind of ridiculous to think that two individuals can come together and agree all the time. Sooner or later, differences are bound to erupt. Was what I had with Cato really that bad? Surely others have it worse. I could still go back, beg for understanding, even though experience has taught me he has none to offer.
"Stop it Katniss."I say to myself, needing to hear it spoken aloud.
My tired eyes soon begin to droop, when a man approaches from behind the bench. Before I can even get look at his face, he has a knife to my throat, frightening the breath from my lungs.
"The purse, hand it over. And the food. NOW" he shouts, increasing the pressure of the knife just below my chin.
I am frozen, paralyzed. "I can't." the words come out hoarsely. Handing over my purse, with all my money, means an end to my freedom, and I would rather die than go back to the painfully slow demise that is Cato.
"Have it your way." I shut my eyes, and tense my body to the point of pain. And then, for a split second, I find peace in my thoughts, just before my head hits the pavement.
My awareness wavering, I open my eyes to see Finnick holding my assailant to the ground, as I feel a hand brush the side of my face.
I can just make out the blue in his eyes as I lose consciousness.
