Chapter 8
Over the next few weeks, I quickly discover that the nightmare from the night of Haymitch's Victory Feast was only the beginning. They come and go, always leaving me paralyzed in a cold sweat when I awake. Sometimes I am surrounded by starving children, coming to eat my flesh, other times I'm confined within a small glass box, my father peering in at me disapprovingly, and I can't escape his scrutiny. There also seems to be a correlation between going to the Seam with Markas after school and having a night terror in the dark, early hours of the morning. I won't admit it to him though. Still, I find myself spending less and less time with him, making stupid excuses not to hang out, and growing ever more alone.
It's been at least a month since Haymitch's return, and the sun has just started to melt away the snow in time for spring. Markas catches my hand on the way out of the schoolhouse.
"Lynn, I know you've been busy with the shop, but can I please steal you away? Just for today. There's something in the Victor's Village I want you to see."
His eyes are the kindest I've ever seen. The grey of ice in the middle of winter; so clear and focused. I know I can't keep avoiding his company, it's not fair to either of us that I'm so suddenly afraid of commitment.
"Well, is it spectacular, Fenly?"
"If it wasn't spectacular, would I want you to see it?"
"Good point. I'd love to go to the Victor's Village with you."
As he drops my hand to move a few paces ahead of me, deterring suspicion as always, a sense of loss overwhelms me. Have I pushed everyone away so much, that I am this hungry for human contact? What kind of monster have I become? And in that moment, I suddenly don't care what everyone else thinks. Markas is mine, and I am his. Why should we have to hide it? My feet quicken their pace to catch up to his long strides, and my craving fingers grasp his. The warm spots from where his skin touches mine consume my body, and I'm left jogging in an elated, bubbling joy. Markas turns to glance at me and my sudden display, smiling, with surprise evident in his face.
"Don't let go, Markas," I say through my grin.
"I won't, Lynn. You're the only thing worth holding on to."
As we near our normal place behind the first row of homes in the Victor's Village, Markas tells me to close my eyes. I'm not much for surprises, but the good ones are few and far between here in District Twelve, so I play along. His hands take hold of mine, lead me to the perfect spot, wherever that may be, and then rest themselves on my hips as he wraps his arms around me from behind.
"Okay. Open your eyes now."
Something is not right. The muddy snow should not have such a vivid color mixed into it. Deep purple. A flower. A columbine, I think, is the correct name for it. The first real sign that winter is over. And it found it's home right in our special place. I wait a few moments before saying anything, giving the moment time to sink in.
"Oh, it's so small, and beautiful. Thank you, Markas. It's so lovely. Really."
"Small, beautiful, and lovely. Exactly the words I would use to describe you," he says with hint of sarcasm.
"Why do you say it like that, sir?"
"Lynn, I love you, but that doesn't make you lovely," he laughs.
He's right. I may be a lot of things, like spunky, stern, or stubborn, but I'm definitely anything but lovely. The word itself makes me think of little pink birds flittering about. Nope. Lovely. Not me.
"At least I can tell that you know me well enough. Maybe better than I know myself," I say with a smirk.
"You know that I do."
His tone has shifted from light-hearted to serious in a matter of seconds. My fingers tighten around his wrists, hoping the pressure will stop whatever direction he's headed in.
"Lynn, I know something's wrong. Why won't you tell me what it is?" His concerned words ring sharply in my ear.
"Nothing is wrong, Markas. I- I don't know what you're talking about."
Why does my voice always hitch when I lie? What am I supposed to do now? Fake a heart attack? Someone should come up with a word that forces the other person you're speaking with to switch subjects.
"Lynnetta. I'm here for you. I always have been and will continue to be for a very, very long time. So give it up and let me in on your secret. What's going on?"
His warm breath on the back of my neck sends chills all through me. Minutes pass in silence. I don't know what to say, so I simply say nothing.
"Please, please tell me. Are there problems at home? Is it something I did? Tell me, Lynn. I want to fix it. I want you to be okay. You haven't been okay in weeks."
There is a hurting in my heart that won't leave. And I know that it will never leave unless I can get Markas to stop prying. I'm torn because I want him to know my fear, to know that I'm afraid of spending the rest of my life with him and I'm not even sure why. And at the same time, so much of my fear comes from the idea of him knowing my thoughts. I don't want to lose Markas, he's the only person who understands me on even the most basic level. I decide that instead of answering him, I will simply shut him up.
My body twists in his arms until I face him, my hands pulling him in tighter. My lips tremble as they press against his, moving with a new sense of urgency. Suddenly, I can't get him close enough, can't kiss him deeply enough. This must be what real passion feels like. His fingers tangle themselves in the hair closest to my scalp, pulling and tugging, loosening my braids. We knock against the back wall of the nearest house, and I feel his body pushing mine into the coarse, wooden siding. I trace every angle of his face, memorizing every inch of skin, every rough patch of hair. He tastes so wonderful. And as I'm praying it will never end, Markas pulls away.
"Lynn, we can't be together, can we?"
It sounds more like a statement than a questions. Tears well up in my eyes and I won't look at him when I speak.
"Don't say things like that, Markas. You're all I want."
I catch a hold of his jacket, keeping us inches apart. But with the way he's talking, it feels like miles between us.
"That's not true. You want a real, proper life. With a proper house and…"
He sighs and brings his hands up to cover his face, pulling them down slowly to rest on his chin, fingers covering his lips.
"A proper husband. Someone who isn't from the Seam."
My throat tightens and my breath begins to shorten, leaving me shuddering violently as I attempt to talk.
"Markas, I love you. I love you so much. Please stop, you're j-jumping to c-conclusions."
There goes my voice, cracking again. But this time, it's because my dry heaving is turning into turbulent sobs. It's just my luck that I fell in love with a boy who knows me all too well.
"I'm not jumping to conclusions. If I was wrong here, Lynn, you wouldn't be acting like this. Please stop crying. I love you, too, but…"
His lips rest against my forehead and he draws me into a strong embrace. When I finally regain some composure, Markas loosens his grasp.
"I'm sorry that I ever expected you to make such a huge sacrifice. I got caught up in a delusion. Sometimes I forget how different our worlds are, and I get lost in the idea of us. But no matter how we spin it, one of us is going to end up unhappy. I can't let it be you."
This time I don't resist the urge to slap him. The action gives me courage to speak, and the words feel like angry daggers spitting off my tongue.
"How dare you! You think that you alone can determine my happiness? This is what I want. You are what I want. You are my happiness."
My hand tingles where it made contact with his cheek.
"Lynn, you don't get it. If you end up with me forever, no matter how much we're in love, you will have to live in the Seam, and you will be unhappy. I'm sorry that I didn't see it before now. I should have seen the signs. Your silence at my house, the way you never greeted any of my neighbors. I'm sorry to say this, but if you don't have me holding you back, then you will be free to find someone else, someone who will fall in love with you just as easily as I did. Someone who, when you marry them, can make sure you're happy in every way. You can't choose me and happiness."
I know his words should make sense logically, but they don't. If I don't have Markas, I won't have anyone at all. No one to talk to, no one to be with. The past few weeks of self-induced solitude have been torture, even if it did calm the nightmares. Sleeping soundly through the night is not enough to let the most important person in my life sacrifice our love, especially for my sake. I begin to plead.
"You're the one who doesn't get it. I'm not going to stop loving you. Please don't act this way. I told you, you're what I want. You're what makes me happy. I don't have anything else. Please. I chose you and I choose you and I'll choose you over everything, every single time."
But Markas is already kissing me goodbye. A brush of the lips, and I can feel my heart being wrenched from my chest as he steps backwards.
"You can choose me all you want, Lynn. But it won't change anything. I'm sorry. I won't choose you."
I drop to the ground as he walks away, searing pain cutting through my chest. My eyes clamp shut, trying to block out the torment. When they open, I am completely and hopelessly alone.