Heartbreak and tragedy, tissues may be used as necessary. Although times can be hard, there is always a silver lining in the grey cloud hanging overhead. Try to remember everyone has been through a similar experience.
Updates soon! Thanks for bearing with me guys :) Much appreciated. Reviews also XD
"Friendship is unnecessary, like philosophy, like art … It has no survival value; rather it is one of the things that give value to survival."
- C. S. Lewis
The train ride home is almost unbearable. It seems to take twice as long, and my waking hours are filled with flashbacks and my fidgeting hands that are trying to distract my brain, but it never works. Sleep is worse and the nightmares of dead tributes coming alive and advancing on me, replays of killing the people, hallucinating even, makes me jolt awake, sweating and more scared than ever. I have developed a habit of never sleeping when it's dark, because the nightmares come more alive in the darkness. And I find I'm almost never tired. How can my brain want to sleep, when it is overridden with images and ideas? It can't. And when sleep does overcome me, it never lasts long. What little sleep I get is riddled with screams and images and I can't stand it. The next morning I awake from a nightmare when Shauna tells me we will be arriving soon. I jump up, collect my things, (nothing, except for the bracelet Lucia gave me), and head to the exit door. Before long an Avox opens the door for me and I jump out, expecting to see my family, but I don't. Lucia is there though, running towards me. She flings her arms around me and I embrace her, soaking in her scent, her warmth. We hold hands as we walk, winding our way through the bustling people in the markets just outside. Lucia fills me in on what had happened when I had been away in the arena, but when I ask her where my family is she bites her lip and looks away. My stomach does a flip as images of torture, of death fill my mind. I ask her again, and she looks me straight in the eye, and says, "They… The Peacekeepers, they took him, your brother, and….." she trails off. "I tried to run to him, but the Peacekeeper aimed a gun at me. Your mother told them that I meant no harm, and the Peacekeeper walked away. But then he….. "But she doesn't need to tell me. They killed him. They killed my innocent, sweet brother who was only a few years younger than me. Adam, who, when we finished school, would tell me about his day, who cared about me, who could coax a smile from my lips. He is gone. I ask the question that is eating away at me. "Is my mother alive?" I ask hesitantly, dreading that the answer will be no.
"She is alive, thank lord. But she is sick, nursing a headache. She asked me to meet you here, and to tell you we now live in the Victors Village. My family passed away from sickness, it was very sudden. So I came to live with you." A smile plays on her lips and I kiss her, because I have craved the feeling of her lips against mine for so long. She presses herself to me as I kiss her again, and we melt into each other. I scoop her up, carrying her to our new house, as she laughs merrily and the breeze carries her voice across the threshold of our home.
I walk in the door and my mother greets me with a tight hug. I hold her in my arms because I have missed her. I feel my shoulder grow damp as she sobs, and I feel a tear or two on my own cheek as I remember my brother. After a long time I let her go, set her down softly into a rocking chair, where Lucia holds her in my place. As I walk along the hall, I come to my room, where my few belongings have been placed. I sit on the edge of the bed, trying to process this last turn of events. I can't, so I give up, knowing it's futile. Then Lucia comes in quietly, closes the door and sits next to me. I open my arms as she wraps hers around my shoulders. We sit, quietly, for a long time, somehow knowing what each other is thinking.
Apparently, the nightmares don't go away, but I make an effort to be strong and not let them show, for Lucia and my mother. As the days pass, I realise something doesn't fit together. Why did my brother have to die? What did he do? It's only when I get a call from the President that I begin to understand. The Gamemakers had been played for fools when I used the force field to deflect the axe, the very axe that lifted me from the arena. No one would have even guessed that the force field could be used to any players advantage, so when it did, the Gamemakers were the laughing stock of Panem. And the one thing the Capitol can't tolerate is being made to look like fools. So they took revenge on someone I loved, they took it out on Adam. It dawns on me that it is my fault, I did this to him. I ask the President why he didn't just kill me, but he just laughs; of course, because that would be too easy. He doesn't tell me, though, that Adam isn't the only one that will suffer for my actions. I don't even realise it. Not until later, anyway.
Another thing I don't realise is just how much the Arena haunts me. It follows me everywhere, and only Lucia's and my mother's faces can make is shrink back into the dark shadows enfolding my other dark thoughts in my mind.
The next few days are luxurious, staying in Lucia's arms for most of the time. My mother is brighter than I have ever seen her; despite my brother's death, she is overjoyed to have me home. We spend more time together as a family than we ever did, and now with Lucia joining us, I'm thinking that maybe we should make her a part of the family for real. I never dreamed of a family of my own, but it seems like a great idea, and Lucia's eyes fill with hope, and delight as I repeat my idea to her. I know this is the right choice.
One day, Lucia is standing by the mirror as I come up behind her and wrap my arms around her gently. Then I notice the tiniest of bumps on her stomach. My hands go to her belly and I feel it, the child Lucia is now carrying. We look at each other with pure joy; our wish is finally coming true. The child deep in Lucia's womb grows, and each day I find myself feeling its little kicks and movements. We have more than enough money to support a family, and I realise now this is what will help me pull myself together, it gives me a reason to keep going. We are truly in a world that no one could penetrate. This child really is the hope for life. Despite the horror of my nightmares; they are still in great supply, though little demand, the images are still terrifying. I am scared that one day this will all be taken away from me, and maybe it will, but for now, I keep reminding myself, that it's true, that good is happening, and maybe, just maybe, time will help heal the wounds that go far deeper than the pit of my stomach, the tips of my toes.