I do not own the Hunger Games, but I do own this story and its original characters.
Chapter 18
My sleep is troubled. I toss and turn, and one too many times, I think about Dimitri. Would he really help me find my father after all these years? Is my father even alive? Too soon, morning comes. It dawns with clear with a hot sun and a cloudless blue sky.
"We're experiencing record highs," the news anchor on the television says.
We're having a heat wave. Drink lots of hydrating smoothies and stay in today. Oh! And Happy Hunger Games! May the odds…" I cut the television off with one hasty click of my remote and toss it on the couch. I can't deal with this right now. I know what those children are walking into. I know some of the arenas secrets and dangers.
It almost seems cruel, in a way, to send the tributes to die on such a lovely day. Dimitri and I are leaving for the arena at eight. I am both nervous and excited. It is the same feeling I have when I'm about to perform in a recital, but when I play usually no one dies.
There is a knock on my door at seven-thirty while I am eating my cereal. Dimitri stumbles into my apartment. Despite his put-together appearance of a button up black pin stripped shirt with a black vest, I can tell that he is not okay. His eyes are bleary and bloodshot. His hair is pulled up in a messy bun. I cannot blame him. Today, the Hunger Games start.
"Would you like something to eat? I have cereal, eggs, toast, bacon?" I say.
"You might not want to eat too much," he says. He tries to untangle his ankles from the kittens who have suddenly decided to be sociable today.
"You shouldn't be drinking on an empty stomach," I reply.
"Touché." He sets a thermos on the counter. "Water from the arena. It's still cold. I thought you would want it. You can probably get more if you ask Crane nicely."
"At least let me make you a piece of toast," I say.
He waves me away and takes out his flask and takes a sip. "I'm fine. I want to be good and numb for today."
"You're going to eat a piece of toast." I put a slice of bread in the toaster and press the lever of the toaster with added emphasis.
"You're cute," he sneers.
"Thought Capitol girls weren't your type?" The reaction is automatic. I shouldn't taunt him on a day like today, but his bad mood has bled on to me. And while his comments probably aren't directed at me, I still feel like I need to fight back some how.
Dimitri winces. "Are you going to keep throwing that in my face?"
"Are you going to keep bringing up where I'm from?" I set a large glass of water in front of him. "A little water to go with your toast."
"I think I'll keep the whisky."
I put the thermos in my refrigerator. I don't think that water will taste as good as it did last night. It will be tainted by spilled blood. The toast pops up, jolting me out of my thoughts.
"What kind of jam do you want? I have strawberry preserve and grape."
"Strawberry." He chuckles. "This really isn't necessary. I'm fine."
I set the plate in front of him along with the butter and jam. "Do you need me to butter it for you?"
If you can't beat them, kill them with kindness.
"I think I can handle it, thanks." He grins. His mood seems to have lifted a little bit. "You know, I have a hard time staying mad at you."
"You were mad at me?"
"For those two stunts you pulled last night? Yeah. I was a little upset at you. But then, you made me a piece of toast, and I don't know. I'm not pissed any more; I think it might be the alcohol." He takes a bite of his toast.
Last night. My heart drops. "Which things?"
Dimitri licks the jam that has dribbled onto his fingers off of his toast. "Well, you kissing me was one of them. I wasn't expecting that."
I blush and pass him a napkin "But I meant what I said. I do like you. If anything you should take it as a complement."
"You can't do that here," Dimitri reminds me. "We can't be that affectionate with each other in front of the other Gamemakers. They'll assume that I'm not really your mentor and they'll take you away from me."
"But if they watch the footage from last night, and listen to you whine about how you want someone to like you for your Victor's status…"
"Victor's whine about that all the time," he says.
"But…"
"The second one was your father. You should know, or your grandmother should have told you that contemplating conspiracy theories involving the Capitol government is a bad idea. Your mother, grandmother, or at least someone should have also told you that we are watched as close as the tributes. And you have the audacity to do that in the arena."
"I'm sorry," I yell back at him. "You asked me about the fire. I told you. What do you want me to do, lie?" My cereal doesn't taste like anything any more. I push it away. "For what it's worth, the kiss was meant to be a complement."
The anger disappears from his face. Dimitri beckons to me over the bar. I fall into his arms and bury my head into his shoulder. This is becoming a more common occurrence. He strokes my hair, careful of the large goose egg that still lives on the back of my head. "You still owe me a kiss."
"I don't owe you anything."
He points to his cheek. "Lay one on me. Right here, right now."
Talk about sending mixed signals. I shake my head. "What makes you think I'm going to kiss you or do anything of that nature after what you just told me?"
"Well, this is a one-time only deal. No refunds or…rain checks."
"Eat your toast." I push him away. "You're drunk."
"I am not. I'm tipsy at best." Dimitri scowls at me and swallows the last bite of his toast. I am relieved to see him eating and drinking something that isn't alcohol. His sour mood returns and I almost feel guilty. He said he didn't want my affections, so I'm not giving them to him. I'm doing what he asks.
"I need to top off my flask. Do you have any whiskey?"
"Are you going to be able to drive?"
"I'm fine," he insists. "I'm not even slurring. If you had seen what I've seen, you would be drinking too, sweetheart."
"So that's your excuse to get black-out drunk? That pain is still going to be here when you sober up."
"Fuck you, Carmen." he spits, taking another sip out of his flask.
"Fuck you too."
"I can handle my pain just fine. I've been handling it for the last eight years."
"Famous last words," I shoot back. "You're drinking yourself to death."
"If anything, I thought you of all people would understand."
His words cut into my heart.
We don't say much to each other on our way to the arena. I am furious at Dimitri and I know that he is angry at me too by the way he guns the engine of his car and weaves through traffic. His anger should scare me after dealing with my mother's unpredictable anger for so many years, but it doesn't. I wonder if this personality change is what my mother was talking about. She has no room to talk, she completely changed after my sister died. Sometimes, I feel like they loved her more than they loved me. I shouldn't allow Dimitri to drive in the condition that he's in, but a part of me feels like it doesn't matter if we die in a fiery crash. In the Districts eyes, we would deserve that, being Gamemakers and all. We're probably better off that way.
Dimitri hums along to the rock song on the radio. He keeps his eyes firmly on the road as we fly down the highway. The roads are deserted because most people have the day off. He takes sips from his flask as he drives.
"You know that's dangerous?" I say. I don't dare look at him.
"I don't need someone like you, to take care of me. I was doing fine until you showed up in my life."
"That's a lie," I say. "Yesterday, all you wanted was my affection. Now you're a self-serving jerk."
"Better to be self-serving jerk than a broken-hearted jerk. And for the record, I did not enjoy hearing about your daddy issues. You're not going to find him," Dimitri says.
"If you knew that, then why did you offer to help me?" I cry.
He doesn't answer me. He rolls down his widow and shows his badge. I flash mine too, and they let us through. We make our way through the long tunnel. It seems to stretch out for forever.
"Answer me." I demand. Tears well up in my eyes.
"Just stop, Carmen. Just shut up." He says softly. He pulls the flask out of his pocket. "I can't deal with this now."
"No." I yell. I reach over and try to grab it out of his hand. He holds it out of reach, dumping some into his lap. The aroma of alcohol fills the car.
The car swerves crazily, almost hitting the wall. The car behind us beeps loudly.
"Fuck," he swears. "Mind your own business, Carmen."
"You know, maybe if you weren't drinking and driving like some sort of loon," I yell at him. "And trying to kill us both, maybe I would."
He scowls at me as we pull into a parking spot in of the arena. Dimitri screws the top on his flask and tosses it at me. "Hold that. I need to clean my pants. Thanks to you, I look like I pissed myself."
"I'm dumping it out." I announce as I unroll the window. "You don't need any more. You're done. "
"Oh no you don't." He lunges at me, but is held back by his seatbelt. It snaps him back like a rubber band. His hand grazes my boobs, which I'm sure something he wasn't intending to do. "Carmen, don't you dare."
"Watch me," I spit.
He lunges at me again and this time the flask slips out my hand and slides down the window and in between my seat and the door. Dimitri unbuckles his seatbelt. I manage to keep my body in between him and the flask.
"Carmen, I need that!"
"No you don't. You drink too much anyway."
"I do not." He tries to reach around me and I push him away as I try to pick up the flask that has wedged itself there. Dimitri's fingers dig into mine and his weight presses me into the door. All of our struggling to pick up the flask has pushed it deeper in between the seat.
"You're making it worse. It's stuck."
"Well, whose fault is that?"
"Yours."
"Why is it my fault?"
"You gave it to me." I am able to wiggle it out of the tiny little space. Whisky streaks the outside making it hard to keep a steady grip on it. As soon as I hold it up, Dimitri tries to snatch it out of my hands. I'm sure our little tiff looks comical, and I'm sure I'd be amused if I weren't so worried about Dimitri drinking himself to death.
"Stop it," I growl.
I bite his arm and he drops the flask. There is another desperate scramble and I am able to grab it. Yet he is able knock it out of my grasp. The flask slips out of my hand, bounces off the dashboard and falls onto the floorboards. Dimitri and I dive after it at the same time. My forehead hits his chin and I see another flash of stars. That's one too times many this week. I sit back in the seat rubbing my head.
A tap on the window distracts us from the flask. It's Avis. He can't see in because the windows are tinted, but I have an idea of what he's thinking. Dimitri winces and rubs his jaw. A bruise is forming there.
"You deserved that." I say.
"I know. I probably deserve just about everything I get. One piece of advice: Don't show any emotion today. They'll… they'll use it to their advantage." Dimitri says. He leans over and picks up the fallen flask. The he gets out of the car before I can apologize to him.
Show no emotion or affection. Be numb.
Dimitri and Avis share some small talk. Avis seems generally excited for the initial bloodbath. "This one promises to be the bloodiest one yet!" He exclaims. Avis seems to forget that Dimitri is a victor and has already seen his share of blood.
Avis turns to me. "Once you see this, you'll be addicted to watching those little bastards from the Districts die."
Dimitri clenches his jaw, but says nothing. His eyes betray nothing. They are emotionless. My heart aches for him. He takes another drink. It's like he's playing a drinking game with himself. Every time someone says cruel about the Districts or mentions the Games, he takes a drink. If he keeps it up at this rate, he'll be dead.
We step into the elevator and it whisks us to the floor with the conference room that I had first met the other Gamemakers, the place where it had all become real. My heart sinks lower into my stomach as we shoot upwards towards it. My fingers brush Dimitri's in hopes of some reassurance, but there is none. He clenches his fist and shoots me a dirty look. Don't touch me, it says. I look away and focus on the elevator's tiled floor. It's hard to believe that last night we were so affectionate with each other. Kissing, even. Maybe I should have kissed him this morning. Now, I might never know what that may have felt like. There will be other men, I try to tell myself.
The doors open and we are met by the overwhelming scent of roses. Dimitri clamps a hand over his mouth and gags. The color has drained from his face.
"Looks like President Snow has arrived already," Avis says. "He presses the button to start the countdown for the tributes. It's tradition."
I follow them to the room. It seems that we the last ones to arrive. President Snow's gaze burrows into mine as he shakes my hand. A fresh white rose is in his lapel. He looks like the snake. I manage a weak smile.
"I heard you received a concussion at the private sessions?"
"That is correct." I don't know what else to say. My mouth goes dry. One of your tributes decided to aim at me because of an event and tradition you carried on. "I'm thankful Dimitri was there…"
He shakes Dimitri's hand. "I understand you protected her from the arrow?" Dimitri isn't able to meet his gaze. President Snow seems to take delight in this. "You're a hero."
"I was just looking out for Carmen, that's all." He says hastily.
President Snow looks at us both grinning. It's the kind of grin that makes your blood run cold. "Well, isn't that a nice change of heart, Dimitri? She looks like she would have that kind of….warming affect on you."
Dimitri doesn't answer. His normal spitfire reactions and remarks are gone. He licks his lips and swallows. "It's been an honor to work with her."
The conference room has been changed since the meeting two days ago. There are ten screens. Eight are focused on key tributes. These are the tributes from Districts, 1, 2, 4, and 12. Right now there is nothing happening, they are in the Launch Rooms. Though right now they all trained on the Cornucopia, and occasionally flicker from camera to camera. The largest is a bird's eye view of the plates and the golden structure. Several of the Gamemakers have computers that also allow them to watch from different angles.
I am seated in between Plutarch and Dimitri. Plutarch gives my shoulder a friendly squeeze. Excitement twinkles in his eyes. "Would you like some wine?" he asks.
"She's not allowed to have alcohol because she's still recovering from her concussion, but I'll take some," Dimitri's voice is raspy and slightly slurred. Plutarch cheerfully pours him a large glass.
I contemplate cutting him off, but I know he would kill me. He's trying so hard to forget. I want to comfort him, but I have no idea how. "Don't you think you should slow down?" I whisper.
"I'm fine, Carmen."
"You didn't bring your laptop! It's okay, I'll share mine so you can get the experience." Plutarch exclaims.
He shows me how I can access it on my own and all of the different features. I can even talk to other Gamemakers through the chat function. A clock ticks down the seconds on the corner of the computer screen. With every second a piece of my heart goes with it. I keep sneaking glances at Dimitri, who stares sullenly ahead, sipping his wine.
Plutarch winks at me. "He does this every Games. He'll be fine. Five minutes!"
President Snow takes his place at the head of the table. Beside him on either side are Seneca Crane and Claudius Templesmith, the announcer. Peacekeepers line the parameter of the room.
"Thank you all for your service as Gamemakers. I hope that you will enjoy this Hunger Games as much as I will." His eyes are trained directly on Dimitri who refuses to meet his gaze. "We hold them every year to remind the Districts that they are under our control." He says a few more things, but they are lost on me.
Claudius takes his place the microphone. "Ladies and gentlemen, let the Seventy-Fourth Hunger Games begin!"
President Snow presses a large red button. Sixty seconds on the clock. It is the time the tributes have to stay on their metal plates before entering the arena. I clench my hands into fists in my lap. My nails, even though they are kept short, dig into the palm of my hands.
"Ten, nine, eight…" The automated voice counts down.
I take a deep breath and hold it. A hand grips my knee under the table. I don't dare look at Dimitri because President Snow stares at us from his place at the table. I keep my face expressionless. Does he know that Dimitri is resting his hand on my leg? Maybe this is a test.
"Three, two, one…" The other Gamemakers chant.
The gong sounds and the tributes begin running for the supplies scattered around the Cornucopia. Gamemakers cheer as one of the Careers grabs the boy from District 9 and stabs him in the back. He is the first to die. I bite my lip to keep from screaming. My hand finds Dimitri's and I squeeze it.
A tribute that I don't recognize steps on a mine. Their death is a quick explosion a loud boom and their body explodes in a bloody firework of intestines, gut and other parts. A dismembered arm bounces of the camera, leaving a bloody print. The smell of scorched skin fills the room. Plutarch and the others cheer loudly. I blink furiously, trying to repress the tears that threaten to escape. A scream threatens to leave my throat. I bite the inside of my cheek to keep myself from screaming. I taste blood. The metallic smell of blood fills the room, wafting up from the arena. Gallons of it have already been spilled and there is more to come. I feel dizzy. His fingers squeeze mine, bringing me back to reality. The place where we had looked at the stars the night before has been tainted with blood.
Dimitri's hand lets go of mine. I try to grab it back discreetly. Don't let go of me. I mentally plead. I need you. Dimitri.
Loud retching fills the room, followed by the putrid smell of vomit. Dimitri is bent over his chair spilling the contents of his stomach on the floor. I touch his shoulder, but he doesn't seem to notice. Several of the Gamemakers wrinkle their noses at the smell. Contessa actually gags.
"Get him out of here," Seneca orders.
Dimitri vomits again. This time on the Peacekeeper's shoes whose job it is to escort him out of the room. I recognize him as the one who gave us trouble in the parking garage when Dimitri took me home after I had gotten my concussion. That would be some comfort to Dimitri, at least.
An Avox hurries in and begins cleaning the mess, and we turn our attention back to the screens. The bloodbath is still in progress. The Careers have ganged up on the smaller and more vulnerable tributes from the less wealthy Districts. They run around like frightened deer trying to outrun the Careers, but they are not fast enough. The female tribute from District 10 runs straight into Clove because she is trying to avoid Marvel's sword. Clove slashes a wound though the Tribute's throat. She staggers a few more steps then falls. Her body twitches releasing the last few strands of her life before she becomes still. Blood bubbles out of her mouth and from the wound on her neck. Her beautiful green eyes stare blindly at the arena sky. A gray film covers them.
Her camera goes black, only showing her picture and training score. Her name is Epona. My heart is heavy for her family. Eleven of the tributes are dead. The boy from District 8 is among them. I feel nauseated. A tear slips down my face. I wipe it away quickly.
Elmo squeezes my shoulder. "He'll be okay. Don't worry."
I smiled weakly. "I know. He always is."
He tosses Dimitri's keys on the table. "He asked if you would dive his car home. Sixten is loading him up in the hovercraft. Do you know how much he had to drink?"
I am grateful for the change in subject matter. "My guess is that he's been drinking non-stop since last night."
Elmo bows his head. "He'll learn one of these days. Preferably sooner than later."
"If it's okay…" I hesitate. "I'd like to leave early to go take care of him."
"I think he'd appreciate that very much," Elmo says carefully. "There are few things you might want to stick around for. Ask Plutarch. He'll know."
President Snow has left the room with his entourage of Peacekeepers and I am relieved. I slump back in my chair. Plutarch is rewatching the bloodbath on his laptop. Another group of Gamemakers huddle at the end of the table and are eagerly editing the footage to send to the Capitol and surrounding Districts. Another group has gone to pick up the dead and make them presentable to send back to their families in the Districts.
The remaining tributes are scattering themselves though out the arena. The Careers, the boy from District 3 and Peeta make camp in the Cornucopia. Katniss, Rue and the redhead from District 5 disappear into hiding in the woods. Only Thresh escapes into the wheat. I can only guess what horrors lie there.
"It looks like the star-crossed lovers have split up," Avis says. "Wonder if they had a lover's spat the night before?"
This causes laughter from the remaining Gamemakers. I want to run. I want to get out of here away from these cruel heartless people. I can't risk drawing attention to myself. I don't want them to know what they're doing to me. I force myself to stay in my seat. I ball my hands in my lap. I let Plutarch show me the different ways I can watch the Games from my laptop should I so desire.
After what seems like forever, Plutarch shuts down his computer and grins. "Wasn't that a spectacular beginning?"
I can only manage a weak smile. If I even attempt to open my mouth I just might start screaming. I blink back the tears that threaten to pour out. No one is in the room but Plutarch and I. What the hell did I just watch? I wonder.
Something that I can never be able to unsee.
"I'd like to… to go check on Dimitri. If that's okay…" I stammer. My entire body trembles. If I stand, I'm not sure if my legs will hold my body. I also have to really go to the bathroom. "Is there anything else they need me for?"
Plutarch shakes his head. "The duties have already been divvied up, but thanks for asking. We'll call you if we need you. Give the dear boy my regards. Today seemed to be a little hard on him."
My knees are still shaking as I stand. I clutch Dimitri's keys. The teeth of the keys dig into my palms, allowing me to focus on the task at hand: getting the hell out of this terrible place. The need to relieve myself has gotten worse and I'm not sure I'll make it out of there in time without soiling myself.
"Do ever watch any of the previous Games?" Plutarch asks interrupting my thoughts.
"No," I say. I don't dare tell him that my grandmother never let me watch them if she could help it.
"Well, we have a copy of every single Games in the archives, if you're interested. We might even have your grandmother's Games. They're quite fascinating to watch," he says. "We also have information on all the tributes. Of course there's more on the Victors. Most of them are still alive."
"Thanks." I cross my legs. "I'll think about it and let you know."
"Let me know which one's you're interested in, and I'll get them for you."
I don't know how long I can hold back the tears. Thankfully, the women's restroom is easy to find. Unfortunately, there are three other people are already in there. They are talking among themselves in the stall. Smoke wafts up from one of them. It makes me nervous. I sneak into the one at the end. They don't seem to notice an added person. They gossip like old biddies.
"Can you believe Dimitri vomited in front of President Snow?" One woman says. "I feel so sorry for Carmen. He's like a regular Haymitch. We never should have let him mentor her."
And the way he pushed her off that chair at the training center during the private session? You would have thought he was trying to kill her," The second one says.
"Protect her from that arrow, my left tit. You know that he planned it." The third one scoffs. I recognize the voice to be Contessa. "If Vivian knew she'd never let it stand."
"I think we should tell her," the first one says. "And the way the brat looks at him. It's a look of complete adoration. Oh my word. You would think he walks on water."
"You know he only wants to bed her. That's the only reason he agreed to take care of the little twit. He can't get anyone else to take him to bed. Not since he pulled that stunt with his face." Contessa answers. "I offered to take her under my wing and show her the perks of being a Gamemaker. Maybe help her bed a more suitable victor."
"And she turned you down?" The first lady gasped. "No!"
"Oh yes, Adina," Contessa's tone becomes very serious. "The night of the interviews they were going out together on his motorcycle. She was wearing his jacket. For Chinese food. Really? Of all things you can get to eat and do in the Capitol."
"All that good Capitol breeding gone to waste. It's because of that meddling grandmother. Vivian should have off-ed her when she had the chance." Adina's voice replies.
"He's going to make her fat," The first one complains. "He doesn't want to just bed her. He wants to ruin her, just like he ruined himself. And she's got a great body. So much potential!"
"Doesn't she know whose daughter she is? I feel like we should almost run an intervention!"
My face turns red as I listen to the conversation. They go on and on speculating about mine and Dimitri's sexual habits.
"I wonder if he fucks her on that piano," The first one says. "I heard she's supposed to be rather good."
"Well, Dimitri wasn't known for his creativity in bed," Contessa says. "You know he turned me down when he became a Gamemaker. No victor ever turns me down."
"You mean you didn't have him before?"
"No, Lila. I'm not into gingers. You know that I prefer the Finnick Odairs. Dimitri's a bit of a nobody."
Finally, I can't take it. I can't let them desecrate him any more. I open the stall door. The other two women are from the token screening session. Their eyes widen in shock as I walk out. I force myself smile sweetly at the three of them. Inside, I am trying to hold myself together. Contessa busies herself with washing her hands, unable to look me in the eye. Elina is touching up her makeup.
"Actually," I say, "We prefer fucking on the hood of his car. It's hot. You should try it sometime. Just not with… my… Dimitri."
The words stumble out of my mouth before I can stop them. He is not mine, and probably will never be mine. I just turned him down this morning. Oh, Carmen, you stupid girl, I think. You let last night blind you. You are doing just what your mother said you would. Oh, you stupid girl. It's no secret that I am attracted to him. Even he knows that thanks to last night.
No. I tell myself firmly. At least have the decency to not use him as rebound. I owe him that much, at least.
"Is he any good?" Elina asks. She is doing her makeup in the mirror.
It takes all the strength in me not to flee from the bathroom. My face is flaming. I wonder if they can tell if I'm lying. Probably. I'm not any good at it. I take a deep breath and try to imitate my mother. Hands on hips and I toss my head. "Best I've ever had, and he's not for sale." I say haughtily. I make sure to direct this at Contessa.
Who am I kidding? The victors are given to whoever can afford them for the night. Those select individuals are called the Victory Circle. My mother is probably one of them. In fact, I know she is. I shudder. My grandmother would usher me out of the room when victors such as Finnick Odair visited. Mother would have four or five at a time with a group of her friends. They all talked down to me, uncomfortable when we ran into each other the next morning. And given the power that some of those people hold, I'm probably pretty low on his list of people he wants to bed.
"We'll let them know," Elina says. She winks at me and continues to touch up her eyeliner.
I don't know who 'they' are. I can't tell if she's being sarcastic or if she's trying to help me. More than anything, I want to protect him.
I know certain members of that group call dibs on a certain Victor. Certain Victors, such as Finnick, garner a lot of attention and can't be claimed. But I have heard of less popular Victors becoming one member's personal lover.
Contessa sniffs disdainfully, "I wouldn't be proud of that, you little slut."
Elina chuckles, "Well, you are. Aren't you the one who likes to go around telling us your sexcapades with past victors?"
"I was only expressing concern since he's mentally unstable," Contessa sputters.
"Concern my ass. If anyone is mentally unstable in this conversation, it's you. Don't you have better things to do than talk down this young woman's lover?" Elina replies, pointing her makeup brush accusingly.
"She can't afford his fee to take him off the Victor's Circle," Contessa says coolly.
She's probably right. I have no idea how much he costs, but she doesn't have to know that.
"How do you know?" I draw myself up taller. "Do you know my personal finances?"
"You mother will hear about this!" Contessa pulls her cell phone from her purse. She and her posse storm out of the bathroom.
"Good!" I shout at her retreating back. "But at least I don't have to pay someone to love me like you do, you frigid bitch!"
I stand there in shock. My head throbs and I wish that the floor would swallow me whole and transfer me home to my little apartment. Dimitri's going to kill me for even suggesting that we're sleeping together.
"It sounds like Dimitri's got his hands full," Elina winks at me.
"Dimitri and I aren't sleeping together." I say. Tears well up in my eyes. "I just couldn't let her say anymore horrible things about him. Not after what he's been through."
"Well, either way it's done." She takes out her cell phone and types out a quick message.
"I'm pretty sure he doesn't like me," I admit. At least, not in that way. Though I can never tell, with him.
She frowns. "What makes you say that?"
"I… I… I don't know. I should go check on him. Make sure he hasn't drank himself to death or done anything stupid." I try to pull myself together. It is my nature to expect the very worst.
"Yeah," Elina agrees. "After what he's been through, he needs all the extra TLC you can give him. Let me know if I can help. You have my number." She packs away her different brushes and make up kit.
I watch her pack up her brushes. "Thank you. For helping me get rid of her. Contessa"
"No, thank you. It's about time someone stood up for Dimitri's reputation." she says seriously. "Do you have a ride back to the Training Center?"
"Dimitri's car."
She raises an eyebrow. "Well, he must at least like you if he's letting you touch his car. You know how men are about their toys."
The detour to the ladies room works to my advantage. There are very few people in this corridor. I stop by the conference room to see if Seneca Crane is still in there. I want to ask him about the water. Actually, I could care less about the water. What I really dread is the state Dimitri will be in when I get back. I also dread facing Dimitri and telling him about what happened with Contessa. Our 'no affection' charade in front of the other Gamemakers is gone. Not that they would believe that anyway. A part of me is afraid of what I'll find when I'll arrive at his apartment.
I step back into the conference room. Plutarch is still there watching the footage. Seneca Crane is beside him as they dissect each of the tributes' moves. I watch Epona, the girl from District 10, die yet again. The brutal slash of the throat and the blood gushing out of her wounds as she unceremoniously dies.
"Isn't it beautiful?" The sickening scent of roses suddenly surrounds me and bony fingers dig into my shoulder. President Snow stands behind me. "That's pure human nature right there. True survival. Survival also shows us our true character. Selfish. Greedy. Heartless. There is no room for love if you want to survive. A perfect reminder of how we can't trust anyone. Give my regards to your beloved mentor. Tell him I said I hope he feels better soon."
He lets go of my shoulder and I feel the imprints of his fingers on my body. As fast as he appears, he is gone. I run headlong along the corridor, not caring who sees me. I taste blood in my mouth again. I have bitten the inside of my cheek again in attempt to hold back my screams. The taste of blood makes it more real as the scent of blood from the bloodbath lingers in the conference room.
I force myself to walk to the elevator, a task that is easier said than done. The wait is excruciatingly long. I clutch Dimitri's keys in my shaking hands. It is only when I have safely locked myself in Dimitri's car that I allow myself to scream.
A/N: Please Review. Thanks.
I never know what to write in these Author Notes besides please review. I guess relevant things.