Sitting amongst a pile of embroidered throw pillows whose words her fingertips could trace, yet she could not quite read, Grace leaned back and found herself cradled in the plush upholstery of a loveseat. After leaving Carter in a room of his own, Antonius had walked Grace to her current quarters and had personally helped her to her seat, showing a patronizing level of tone in his voice as he asked if she was comfortable. Not wanting to ruffle the feathers of her escort, she'd nodded silently, and he left to attend to whatever preparations he still needed to complete before the Tribute train to the Capitol would depart.
The quiet emptiness of the room Grace had been deposited in washed over her, enveloping the young girl in an unfamiliar darkness. Straining for outside stimulus, Grace listened for the muffled metallic clanging of textile factories that she'd grown accustomed to near her home, creeping through the walls and giving her a sense of commonplace, and paradoxically, a sense of peace. But these noises, perhaps audible outside the town hall, were drowned out by the overwhelming silence of the prison in which she now resided. Only her own breathing and the ominous ticking of a clock somewhere overhead on the opposite wall persisted, the two sounds synchronizing. Tick, breathe in. Tock, breathe out. Tick, breathe in. Tock, breathe out.
The click of a key turning in the lock snapped Grace out of her trance, and she coughed as her breath fell out of its rhythm. She rose to her feet, sputtering slightly as she ran her palms over the front and back of her dress in an effort to flatten out any unwanted wrinkles she'd accumulated since preparing for the Reaping ceremony earlier in the morning. The door creaked open yet Grace remained still, the backs of her legs pressed against the loveseat's cushions to maintain her balance and position within the room.
"Gracie!"
A rush of wind reached Grace, moments before the forceful arms of her mother hooked behind her back and pulled her into a frantic embrace. Aya Davinora buried her face in Grace's neck, tears burning her daughter's skin as hot; exhaled sobs pushing down on the fabric covering the girl's shoulder. Caught off guard initially by the unexpected display of affection, Grace eventually moved her arms behind Aya's back and pressed her palms between her mother's shoulder blades, strengthening the hug. Grace's nostrils flared as she inhaled her mother's scent, the smell of soap and the morning's damp laundry overwhelming her with thoughts of a home she would likely never see again. Finally, the reality of the situation clicked into place within her mind.
Grace's legs buckled, almost knocking her mother to the floor as she unexpectedly struggled to support the relatively light weight of her daughter's petit frame. Grace clutched at her mother's back, grabbing handfuls of stiff fabric as gravity dragged her down, and she clenched her pale eyes shut as tears began to well up and fall to the floor. She wept openly, the Capitol, Antonius, the Peacekeepers, and everything else about the Hunger Games far from the forefront of her mind. Loud sobs howled from deep within her chest, only to be muffled by the light blue fabric pushing back against her face.
"Momma…" Grace gasped, "I don't wanna go!"
"I know Gracie," Aya sobbed in response, "I know. It's not fair. It's just not…they can't just take you away like this!"
"Th-They're gonna kill me, Momma!"
"Don't say that! Don't say it and don't think it! You're going to win! You're going to win just like that girl last year that no one thought could do it. I don't know how, I don't…you'll just do it somehow!"
"It's okay," Ryoga Davinora interjected, standing stoically by the door and allowing his wife to have her moment first, "It's going to be okay, Grace."
"Daddy…"Grace whimpered, turning towards the sound of his voice.
"Calm down, Grace," he spoke calmly as he strode across the room, wrapped his lean yet strong arms around both his wife and daughter, "you have to be strong now. Now more than ever."
"Daddy, I-"
"Please, Grace. Just listen. I know…that you're scared. This…this isn't fair, like your mother says. And it's okay to be scared. That's how you know you're you. I'd be worried if you were like those kids from District 1 or 2, fighting each other for this. And God knows I would do anything imaginable to keep you safe," his voice cracked, but he continued, "I would give up everything, sacrifice myself to keep you out of the Arena. But…I can't. I can't protect you now, Grace, no matter how much it hurts me to stand here, powerless. It's up to you, Grace. You have to protect yourself."
"I can't," she hiccupped, "Daddy, I can't fight like, like those others. I couldn't even, I-I, I couldn't even get up to the stage on my own."
"Don't think that way, Grace," Ryoga coughed, gritting his teeth as he fought back tears, "you can fight. You can, and you have to believe that you can. No matter what, even if you have to kill-"
"She's not a murderer!" Aya wept in Grace's ear, shaking her head in denial, "Our daughter…our daughter isn't a murderer."
"It isn't about…murder," his stern voice waivered, "it's about survival. Grace, you're a survivor. Your whole life, you've been a survivor. You're our miracle, Grace. You survived when everyone wrote you off. This, this is nothing for you. It's just another obstacle you have to overcome."
"How, Daddy? How am I supposed to survive in the Arena? Everyone else is going to have a leg up on me right off the bat. Everyone."
"I, I don't know, Grace. I don't know. But you can't just give up without trying. You can't give up before you even know what you're up against. You never give up, Grace. Not once in your life. You've never let you…condition get in your way. Never. You just have to try, Grace. Somehow, just try."
"Please Gracie," her mother parroted, "please don't give up. Listen to your father and don't give up."
"Now," her father ordered, "no more tears. Those people in the Capitol, the…bastards betting or putting up Sponsor money…they already think someone like you has no chance. And if they see you crying, they see those tears and there's going to be no changing their minds. That first impression will be the only impression you get, Grace. I know it's hard. I know, Grace, I know. But please, Grace, you have to be strong. I need you to be strong."
Thick, calloused fingers reached up and dabbed at the corners of Grace's eyes, tracing along the eyelids and wiping away excess tears clinging to her lashes. Stammering breaths rose from her chest, interspersed with terse sobs as Aya rubbed her back in slow, soothing circles. Her sadness lessened into mere sniffling, and her father cradled her reddened cheeks in his rough palms, lifting her head up to face him before resting a gentle kiss on her forehead.
"I love you, Grace," Ryoga whispered, one hand tenderly stroking her braid behind her back.
"I love you too, Gracie," Aya choked out, one arm now gripping her husband's shoulder for support.
"I…" Grace stuttered, "I love you both. I love you both so much."
As the family embraced, Grace did her best to gather all the memories she could from the meeting; the scent of tobacco emanating from her father's clothes; the lilting pitch to her mother's voice as she hiccupped through tears; the feel of miniscule scars covering their bare arms from years of textile factory work. The moment ended abruptly as a Peacekeeper barged in, intruding on the peace and quiet of the family's final moments together. He announced that their time was up, and when neither parent made a conscious effort to abide by this decree, he forcefully separated them, ushering Ryoga and a very distraught Aya from the room.
"I love you, Gracie!" Aya cried out, arm stretching beyond the Peacekeeper, reaching for her daughter.
"Momma!" Grace called back, the voice already fading into the distance of her perpetual darkness, "Daddy!"
"Be strong, Grace!" Ryoga urged, "Be strong! I-"
The door slammed shut and locked, Grace once again enveloped in the darkened silence of the town hall waiting room. She bit back a cry for her parents and wiped away new tears streaming down her cheeks, remembering the command of her father to be strong and survive. She shuffled back carefully, shoes scuffing against the coarse carpeting covering the floor, and allowed the backs of her legs to find the cushion of the loveseat once again. She bent down, fingertips brushing over the velvet to gauge the distance, and braced her palms on the stiff fabric, lowering herself down to take a seat.
Grabbing a throw pillow and setting it in her lap, Grace folded her hands over the stitching, rubbing her index and middle fingers over the lettering in an attempt to figure out what words were written; however the trembling of her hands made this task increasingly more difficult. Her neck twisted and trained in one the direction of the door, intent on listening for footsteps or any other sign of life to reassure her in her solitude. The clock kept ticking and Grace counted the seconds, reaching one hundred before starting over from one. After exactly three hundred seventeen ticks and three hundred sixteen tocks, the door clicked open once more, ushering in another set of visitors.
Maxon Linnell pushed past the Peacekeeper, crossing the room and joining Grace on the loveseat before she had a chance to rise in greeting. He wrapped one arm around her shoulders and gave a friendly, reassuring squeeze, offering a smile before realizing the futility of the gesture, and instead rubbing her shoulder. Edging her way into the room, Gabrielle Raleigh waited by the door, her teeth clenched together and grinding back and forth as she glanced over at her friend, noting the puffy redness of her cheeks. Guilty footsteps echoed in her ears as she walked over, sitting on the armrest beside Maxon and keeping him between herself and Grace.
"Max…" Grace whispered, "Gabby…you both came."
"How'd you know it was us?" Maxon asked, his lips moving faster than his mind could stop him, "I mean, you couldn't see us come in, could you? Uh, I mean-"
"I know what you meant. And I knew it was you because you smell, Max."
"What? I do not smell!"
"You do. Your mom dyes all those clothes in your basement and the bleach she uses kinda floats around in the air and sticks to your clothes. I can smell you coming from a mile away."
"That's-" Maxon argued, lifting his arm and inhaling the scent of his sleeve, "okay, yeah, that's true."
"And Gabby always grinds her teeth when she's nervous, and she doesn't realize how loud it sounds when she does that."
"I guess," Gabrielle trailed off, still focusing more on Maxon than on Grace.
"Gabby? What's, what's wrong?"
"Nothing. Nothing, Grace, it's just…Grace, I, I'm sorry."
"Sorry? For what?"
"I, I should've volunteered. I should've stepped up for you. Everyone in the crowd…when they called your name, like, everyone just backed off and I, I did too. I, I left you there, abandoned you, Gracie. I sh-should've stepped up when those Peacekeepers took your cane away. I should've done something. But, I-I, I was scared, Gracie. I, I d-didn't want to go to the Capitol. I don't want to die, Gracie, but you don't either and I should've, I should've helped you because you're my friend and I didn't do anything…I-I just stood there and watched it all happen. And I'm just so, so sorry, Gracie. I'm s-sorry, p-please forgive me, Gracie, please."
"Gabby," Grace paused, still absorbing her friend's plea, "I…I don't know what to say. I mean, you don't have to apologize for anything. I was shocked when I was picked, but I never expected anyone to volunteer for me, so I just…it wasn't a big deal is all."
"Yeah Gabby, "Maxon chimed in, "we've all been to enough Reapings to know that people don't just…volunteer for each other. Not here anyway. You shouldn't feel bad about that."
"But I do!" Gabrielle cried, "I do feel bad. I feel awful about everything! Grace, you shouldn't have to go. It should be me, not you."
"Gabby…" Grace stammered, swallowing and trying to maintain her composure, "I forgive you, okay? It's not, it's not the end of…of the world…I guess…"
"Gracie," Gabrielle gasped, fumbling with the clasp of the bracelet on her left wrist, "I want you to take this!"
"What?"
"My bracelet. Take my bracelet. It's got like, charms and stuff so you can feel them and remember District 8 when you're off in the Capitol…or the Arena. You just hold onto it, okay? You can give it back if…when you come home."
Gabrielle secured the bracelet around Grace's wrist and pulled her into a hug, sandwiching Maxon between the two of them. He joined in as best he could, with his arms flailing about, but the effort was appreciated. Pulling away, Grace's hands reached up and found Maxon's face in front of her, her fingers tracing over his features and nearly poking him in the eye several times before situating themselves on either side of his mouth.
"What're you-"
Grace cut him off, darting in and pecking him on the lips, just once, just for a moment, before leaning back and clearing her throat.
"I just um," she coughed again, "I…if I'm gonna die…I don't want to die, you know, never having…kissed a boy before. So, um, thank you."
"Don't mention it," Maxon shivered a little as he spoke, "really."
"And um, if you still feel guilty, Gabby, I guess we're even now, huh?"
"I guess," Gabrielle stared at both Grace and Maxon, her eyes darting back and forth, stunned, "I mean, yeah, we are. Sure."
"Do you…still want me to have your bracelet?"
"Of course I do! It's fine, just fine. Don't worry about it, Gracie…I know…that, didn't mean anything."
"Right," Grace stated, nodding, "so we're all good. Affairs in order? Do me a favor and…just, make sure my parents are okay. They, they're worried and I just…I want them to know they're not alone."
"I will," Maxon responded, "we both will. And we'll be cheering for you every day."
"Yeah," Gabrielle agreed, "You can count on us, Gracie. We're with you all the way."
The Peacekeeper returned and Grace's friends said their final goodbyes, waving before Gabrielle realized the foolishness and stayed her own and Maxon's hands. Once again, Grace sat in the silence of the waiting room, alone and waiting for visitors, but no more were to come. The ticking of the clock passed ten minutes with nary a peep from the outside world, and Grace pondered whether or not being forgotten would be a bad thing in her position. She started to hum to calm her nerves, growing antsy in the darkness, and soon that humming blossomed into lyrics as she sang the song her mother taught her as her namesake.
"Amazing Grace, how sweet the sound, that saved a wretch like me. I once was lost but now am found, was blind, but now I see.
T'was Grace that taught my heart to fear. And Grace, my fears relieved. How precious did that Grace appear the hour first believed.
Through many dangers, toils and snares I have already come; 'tis Grace that brought me safe thus far and Grace will lead me home.
The Lord has promised good to me. His word my hope secures. He will my shield and portion be, as long as life endures.
Yea, when this flesh and heart shall fail, and mortal life shall cease, I shall possess within the veil, a life of joy and peace.
When we've been here ten thousand years bright shining as the sun. We've no less days to sing God's praise than when we've first begun."
"Brilliant!" Antonius' effeminate voice exclaimed from the doorway, having entered around the fourth verse, "Amazing! Stupendous! Marvelous, even! You have a beautiful voice, Miss Davinora. I could simply listen to it all day, but alas I cannot because we're slightly behind schedule."
His footsteps scurried across the carpet and Grace, still somewhat blushing from the overabundance of praise, found her wrists constrained in two eerily soft hands, pulling her to her feet. One arm hooked around her elbow and guided her to the door, where Carter waited outside under the watchful eye of Grace's Peacekeeper guard. Antonius gathered Carter as well, the boy staring at Grace in slight awe, having heard her song as well, and together the trio moved through the building's hallways to a backdoor, where a car and driver awaited them. Antonius opened the door in a gentlemanly fashion and helped Grace step up into the vehicle, and then moved around to the other side, clamoring in beside her while Carter sat by the secondary window.
The roads of District 8 were suitable for walking, but cars or bicycles couldn't easily handle the terrain, and thus the ride jostled the two Tributes around to the point of both Grace and Carter ordering the driver to stop and pull over. They then spilled out onto the side of the road and both lost the contents of their morning meals, eliciting a gag of disgust from Antonius as well. Somewhat relieved, however, the pair reclaimed their seats and the car continued its journey to the District 8 tram station, where a Capitol train belched smoke, waiting for its passengers. With Antonius keeping a tight grip on her arm, Grace made her way from one transport to the other, and lifted her foot from the ground of District 8 for potentially the last time, climbing onboard the train.