Rated Adult for Language and Violence
006A
Brenton
The deep purple tapestries cover the walls of the hall, the lighting is minimal and I feel I've already had my far share of walking down this one hall. I can see the tall wooden doors before me, as we're halfway down the hallway. As per usual there's two Keepers escorting me, both equipped with rifles and side arms at their waists.
I had woken out of a deep sleep, when suddenly I was dragged from my mattress, and instructed to dress. I had assumed I was supposed to go to work detail in the laundry, but I was concerned when we walked past the pathway leading towards the crossing of the courtyard.
My nerves had further knotted when we had taken the turn toward where Snow's office was located.
I try to push any anxiety to the back of my mind, when we reach the doors, knowing I need to be clear minded when I see Snow. He's grown accustomed to playing mind games with me, and I want to be ready. I glance up towards the camera located up in the high corner of the wall, positive he's watching me right now.
The doors open, and I'm pushed forward by the butt of one of the rifles, my attention is pulled away from the camera. I step over the threshold and I'm assaulted by the sweet smell of flowers, I would assume I would be used to the odor by now, but I'm not, my stomach still turns at the stench.
The bleached head of hair peering out from the flowers whose petals match the color, catches my attention first. The light scraping sound of a vase being slid on wood is faint, as I see the conniving sneer of Elective Snow.
I square my shoulders as I'm pushed further into the room by the Keepers gun; I try to keep my face calm. However, all I want to do is reach across the large polished desk, and wrap my hands around his throat. Snow lowers his head, fixated on something he's holding in his hands.
I take the opportunity to scan the room for Thread; thankfully he's not in attendance, although I think he being absent makes me even more nervous. I move my attention back to Snow before he notices, but he's already studying me.
He clears his throat; as he places the thin slip of plastic down to fold his hands into each other. My recently grown bangs hang at the side of my face just below my ears, and I've forgotten how irritating it can be, I reach up pushing the strands behind my ears.
Snow pushes his chair back standing from it, to make his way to the front, facing me. The room is silent for a few seconds, the pounding in my ears from my own heartbeat threatens to deafen.
His dark navy suit sets off the silver of his hair, the sleeves are sleek and without a wrinkle. When he finally speaks I almost jump from the anticipation.
"I'm moving you up the hill to the competitor quarters. There you will train, and receive the care for medical as well as any other wants you may have."
"You're moving me to another part of the camp?"
"Not quite. The competitors are giving housing, which is furnished, and their meals are more than enough."
"Let me get this straight? I agree to kill or be killed for you, and you allow me to live in luxury?"
"You must be sharper than I thought. But yes, Mr. Mellark, even though you stated it so crude. You are rewarded with a few bestowals, for doing your part for the Capitol."
"Let me ask? Where does the extra food and everything else come from? I assume the other children who simply survive here are being asked to sacrifice for the competitors?"
"Yes, Mr. Mellark sometimes the weak are expected to supply for the stronger breeds."
"I think I'll pass, Elective Snow."
"Excuse me?"
I lean forward," I'm not going to make it easy for you. And I'm not going to take from anyone just to make you feel like less of a butcher. Because lets be real with one another? Everything before the arena is just preparation for death. And I will not let you use me, as your disposable game piece."
Snow meets me halfway, his back leaving the desk," But you already have when you agreed to compete."
I nod, my glare not wavering," True, but I unlike most of the people you control, I'm not for sale."
Snow throws his head back in laughter, as I stand up straight," It's amusing how strong you believe yourself to be. But you're not Mr. Mellark, you are weak. You gave into my wanting as soon as I harmed a couple of expendable females. No one of any real importance."
"It's not weak to value life."
"It is weak to allow the suffering of others to affect your own self preservation."
"Clearly you and I have different definitions of the word."
Snow slowly nods as he reaches for the thin plastic behind him," I would assume with who your mother is, you would have a better grasp of perseverance."
"What do you know of my mother?"
Snow keeps his head down," Your mother was a code here. She managed to escape, to be honest she's been the only one to successfully escape, although we had assumed she had died, this is until you came and we discovered she was the other half of your DNA stream."
"Good for her for being smarter than you."
"The point is Mr. Mellark you lack her strength. If you were as strong as you like to believe, you would recognize that I am only bestowing the opportunity for you to be fully prepared."
"I'll train, and I'll use your facilities but I'm more than comfortable in my cell."
Snow turns from me, his back slightly hunched over as he glided his fingers over the thin piece of plastic.
"Take him to the training center to meet his assigned mentor."
I keep my footing for as long as I can before I'm dragged out of the office; I call over my shoulder, defiance in my voice.
"Always, a pleasure sir."
I'm pushed forward, my knees buckling causing me to almost lose my balance. I hold my arms out to the side, regaining some sense of equilibrium. The blunt force of the barrel of a rifle pushes me, making me skip a few steps the threat of falling real. I can't help but smirk, proud of my defiance, but I have a sinking feeling I've only dug my own grave.
006B.
Brenton
The deep red carpet spans the entire floor, and I'm forced to think it's somehow symbolic. Dark curtains cover the windows which span nearly up to the thirty foot ceiling. The entire room is massive, and considering this is only the training area, I'm assuming the sleeping quarters are even more massive.
I've been pacing the floor, for about an hour since the two Keepers literally threw me through the door. My hands are stuffed in my pockets, the stiff fabric of the camp uniform scratches my skin and I miss the smooth fabric of the outfit the prep team dressed me for my introduction.
My dark bangs continue to fall in front of my eyes and I have to blow them to the sides. The anticipation is not helping my anxieties and I try to push any self doubt away. However, Snow's words haven't left me, and I'm left thinking if he was right about me.
Am I too weak to do what's needed? Do I fold too easily when I see someone suffering? I had been taught, to value life, to see the respect it deserved, but should some lives be expendable? I'm unable to understand where the line should be drawn, and is my inability to do so, my biggest down fall?
I'm broke out of my reverie when the creaking of the heavy steel door, signals a visitor. I stop in my tracks turning to where the echoing sound stems from. The muscles in my back tense when I see the tall golden eyed boy from my first day at the camp walk through the door.
I ball my fists inside my pockets, planting my feet firmly to the ground. His shoulders are as broad as mine, and I'm not ignorant enough to think he won't be a challenge. Thankfully, he's alone so I'm hopeful I may have a better chance of surviving without another concussion.
He advances on me, and I'm about to throw the first punch when he stops short, standing a few feet in front of me.
"I see you made it out of the camp?"
"Funny, I thought we were still in the camp?"
"Technically yes, but here we're free to go where we like. We don't have to worry about food rations, and if Snow thinks you're enough of an asset you're welcomed to pick through available lot of courtesan's, but only a few competitors are allowed to do so?"
"Courtesans? You mean prostitutes?"
"Yes."
"So you rape unsuspecting woman, because Snow allows you to?"
Serkan steps closer to me, and I dig my nails into my palms," I heard what you did to Cray, you have a weakness for woman," my breathing is becoming shallow and I can feel my anger boiling," The only reason you aren't dead is because Snow needs you."
"And the only reason you're not dead is because you're a good little dog."
Serkan squares his shoulder, the muscles in his arms tensing as he forma a fist. I keep eye contact with him, assuming he'll give his attentions away, and maybe I'll be able to get the advantage. My heart begins to beat rapidly, the pulse thumps inside my ears.
However, all of a sudden a loud pounding on the open door, makes both Serkan and I jump. He turns around quickly and I lean to the side, trying to see who or what has startled me. A tall unkempt man with blonde hair leans against the door frame, his arm is casually laying against the door as his elbow cradles the side of his head.
He has a full grown beard, which is hidden halfway by the hair falling around his face. His voice is gruff, with his speech faintly slurred; I would assume he was either drunk or severely hung over.
"Hey shit head! You know the rules, competitors aren't supposed to be in each other's training areas, especially if the comp is a newbie, like the kid here."
Serkan turns back to me, glaring, as he heads over to the man by the door. His shoulders are squared and he looks to be on the attack, he's feet from the man and it's then I see the flicker of light.
A thin blade is pulled from his dark colored pants; he appears to have a tight grip. Serkan is inches from the man, as I open my mouth to warn him, the bearded man braces his right fist with his left hand, his arm bent as he connects his elbow to the base of Serkan's throat.
The blade flies up in the air, as the man catches it. Serkan's hands are still at his throat as the man presses the blade into the lower half of his stomach, applying pressure.
"You aren't supposed to attack mentors."
Serkan coughs, testing his voice; it comes out winded and faint," You're not a mentor anymore."
The man smirks, but I can see some darkness in his eyes," I am now, sunshine," Serkan back tenses and I can only assume the look of surprise on his face, including mine," Run along, Brutus has been looking for you," the man withdraws the blade still holding onto it tightly," And if you ever come after my fighter again, before an arena challenge, I will permanently lodge this in your ear."
Serkan turns back to me, his face flushed," Good luck with the drunk."
I try to manage a smile, my voice dripping with anger," Take care of that throat."
Serkan glares, as he sulks out of the room, the man slams the door shut when Serkan is fully in the hallway. His arm hangs in the air for a few seconds before he drops it, turning to face me.
I'm frozen in my place, not decided on how to act around him just yet. His tangled mop of blonde hair lies flat against his face as he walks up to me. I'm ready to react when he all of a sudden starts to circle me, as if he's studying me.
He stops moving when he ends up in front of me, his long and most likely unwashed fingers start poking at my chest, and I move backwards a bit, my body not resisting. I smell the faint aroma of distilled alcohol on his breathe, it even seems to be emanating from his pores. He begins to shake his head, while he looks me in the face.
"You're toned and you do have muscle but you're scrawnier than your father was at your age."
This makes me perk up as my eyes become wide," You knew him?"
The man is surprised by my voice and I would assume he had forgotten I was even in the room.
"Uhh…well everyone knew of Peeta Mellark when he was about your age. His picture was posted everywhere, after his capture became Elective Snow's number one priority. Besides you don't forget the face of the man who tussled with Thread and lived to tell about it."
"Yh, so I hear."
"I hear you also had a run in with him, and you live to tell about it," the man rubs his beard, giving me a toothy smile, stained yellow teeth easy to see," You might be more like your father than you think."
I square my back, stretching my spine to its full height," I doubt it."
"You got daddy issues," he closes his mouth nodding satisfied," Good. They can come in handy with drawing upon the rage you'll need for the arena. Just don't let it cloud your judgment."
I let out a small laugh," I would think the drunk in the room, wouldn't have any business talking to me about judgment."
"Really?"
"Yes. And to be honest if Snow was going to assign a drunk as my mentor, he should have given me the option of declining your services, I'd be better off training myself."
The man laughs aloud, as he hunches over. I'm not sure if he's overcome with laughter or if he has to vomit. I let my guard down for a second, as he springs up quickly with a blade in his hand. The toe of his boot connects with the back of my knee, forcing my body to pivot to the side.
His knife hand comes to my face; I recover from the shock, blocking the knife with my forearm. The tip of the blade is inches from my left eye, I push his arm back, but I leave myself open as his boot connects with my stomach forcing me to double over.
He advances on me, and I quickly recover, although I'm still gasping for breath. The knife is coming for my face once again, and I step to the side, hoping to strike the inside of his forearm to disarm him, but he's quicker than I am, as I feel the blade of the knife, cut the side of my cheek.
His free fist strikes me in the face, sending me to the floor. The carpet has changed into a deep grey mat, my body falls into it hard, and the air in my lungs escaping, as I gasp my body wracks with spasms. I lay on my back for a few seconds before I sit up bracing myself with my elbows. I reach up to my cheek, pulling my hand back recovering a small bit of blood.
"And that was me still half way loaded. Imagine what I could have done, if I was sober."
He's standing above me, his blonde hair falling around his face. I'm waiting for another attack when he tosses the blade to the floor, the steel clinking on the ground.
"Never let your guard down! Never underestimate your opponent, because you're too much of a cocky shit!"
I remain on the floor watching him as he turns to walk out, he calls over his shoulder," Be here tomorrow at dawn, clearly we have a lot of work to do. And make sure to get a change of clothing, be dressed in the competitor uniform. Spirits know those camp threads chaff like a bitch."
I sit up, calling after him as I hold my cheek," Can I know who'll be training me for my death march?"
The man pauses at the door, turning to me," Haymitch Abernathy."
He knocks at the material of the door, before he turns to walk out to the hall. I watch the door, making sure he isn't coming back before I fall back onto the ground. The bleeding on my cheek has already stopped, and I lie there for a while before I stand up searching for someone who can give me some answers about my new mentor.
006C.
The hall is cold and the steel of the metal completing the wall reflects the bright yellow light, all around her. The ventilation ducks above her head hum and rattle on, ever so often a loud thumping sound echoes through the hall.
She had been roaming the facility, trying to become familiar with her surroundings, hoping she would find a familiar face. She knew of few people under Peeta's direction, but she did remember Rue, and how kind she had been the few times they had come in contact. The grounds were much vaster than they appeared from the outside, and there seemed to be an underground corridor she didn't have the ranking to have access to.
She noticed how the make shift warehouse looked more like a district than it did the command hob of the resistance. There were housing quarters where families would reside, she even saw some young children playing in the halls, when she had walked through. Out of habit she had glanced at their arms for a familiar marking, one she had lived with most of her life, but she exhaled a breath when she noticed their skin had been unaffected.
Most though were codes, and she assumed this was where they had laid their roots after being released or escaping the camps. She noticed the whispers behind cupped hands and the looks she earned, but she assumed it had to do with her lineage, seeing most codes and those in the districts against the regime of the Capitol, still talked about her father.
Most felt they knew him, something Katniss learned not to bother her, they needed to feel close to someone who was brave enough to try to fight back. Although some knew of her connection to Peeta, and the news of Brenton's capture had turned into interesting gossip.
It seemed from what she could decipher from the hushed conversations, Peeta was private about his life before the resistance, and more than likely he never left his quarters, unless it was pertinent to the movement, and then he would depart to the locked corridors below.
He seemed withdrawn to her, which was not the man she remembered. But she assumed the last decade had done its damage to him as much as it had to her, if not worse because at least she had their son to help her keep her faith.
She was stunned by where she was now; she had unexpectantly walked back towards Peeta's quarters. After their argument, he had held her for awhile as she cried, it had felt so familiar having him hold her, her body fit perfectly into his, and she found herself feeling safe and content.
She had clung to his shirt, the material balled up in her fist; he had pulled away from her, his hands leaving her body. Katniss could feel the warmth leaving her, and she was confused if it had to do with the absence of Peeta's body or how he seemed more distant than he had before.
The air was heavy again, Katniss had tried to reach out to him, but he had rebuffed her contact, turning from her. He had sat down at the table he had against the wall, and mumbled about work he had to get done, before the night was over.
She had nodded compliantly, recognizing his need to grieve alone. Katniss now stood outside his door; she raised her hand to knock when she noticed the door was slightly a jarred. She looked to each side down the hall, looking for someone else, she was uneasy to enter his room alone.
Katniss stood there for a few minutes before turning to walk back down the hall. She was a couple of feet from the door, when she heard a loud crashing sound coming from his quarters.
Katniss didn't hesitate before she began to run up to the door pushing it open, as she crashed into the room. The solid metal door slammed against the metal sheeting echoing through the room. Katniss stopped suddenly in her tracks when she saw Peeta hunched over kneeling on the ground bare footed, a half empty bottle of brown liquid cradled in his hands. His head is down casted, as he brings the rim of the bottle to his lips.
His back is up against the bed frame, his body surrounded by thin pieces of paper, she assumes are pictures. Peeta brings his head back, the bottle in his hand following as he downs the last of the liquid, his cheeks are swelled, but lessening in volume as the alcohol slides down his throat.
He exhales coughing loudly as he shakes the bottle, peering through the glass with narrow eyes. He shakes the bottle once more before, throwing it up against the wall.
The glass shatters easily, pieces of once heated sand, fly into the space around the wall, hitting the hard ground, breaking once more. Katniss jumped slightly from the collision, while Peeta seemed unaffected by it. Without looking he snaked his hand behind him pulling out another bottle from under the bed, the clattering of the full bottles hitting each other sounded through the room.
Peeta withdrew the full bottle from behind him, moving it in front of him as he tried to unscrew the top with his other hand. His hands shook, as he mumbled something incoherent and moved the bottle to his mouth, attempting to pry the top open with his teeth.
Katniss sighed closing the gap between their bodies; her footsteps caused him to look up the top of the bottle still between his back molars. Peeta looked at her through slanted lids, perspiration covered his face. His blonde hair was soaked, as was the front of his black t-shirt. Katniss crouched down inches from Peeta, balancing herself on the balls of her feet, reaching for the bottle between his lips.
Peeta lazily pushed her hand away, almost missing her arm completely. Katniss shook her head, her dark hair falling around her shoulders.
"Are you drunk?"
Peeta let out a little giggle removing the bottle from his mouth," Well, we all deal with these things in our own ways. You cry and I drink," Peeta began to laugh out loud his body shaking, "A LOT!"
Katniss reaches for his forearm," Come on, you need to get -," Katniss stops short as her eyes fall on the photos Peeta had lied out she recognizes the dark hair of the small child pictured," What are these?"
"I believe we call them photographs."
Peeta laughs again as he unscrews the top of the bottle, throwing the cap to the side. Katniss moves the pictures to the sides to reveal more underneath. A myriad of memories hit her as she stares at herself at a much younger age holding her son, however many are of Brenton before he was eleven.
She stops on one of her, when her hair was still long and she had been wearing a loose fitting white sundress, held on by thin straps. It had been taken when she and Brenton were living outside of district four, the light reflecting off from the ocean, made her dark hair shine.
"There's so many. When did you take these?"
Peeta brought the bottle to his lips, leaning his head back to take a swig," Over the years."
Katniss nodded, picking up the photograph of Brenton playing beside the shore line when he was about six;" You were keeping tabs on us."
Peeta withdrew the bottle from his lips, wiping his mouth with his arm," For awhile."
Katniss couldn't take her eyes off of the hundreds of photographs," This wasn't fair. You could see us, but we couldn't see you."
Peeta eyes became serious," It was necessary."
Katniss' head shot up," It was halfway!"
"I couldn't let you know I was there! Families are a liability in the lives we lead. Look at what happened to both our parents, our siblings! Our love ones are a weakness."
"No, we're not. You chose to believe we were, Peeta. But that's how it's always been…on your terms."
Peeta takes another drink," You're right. And look where we are now. Our son is being made into what I never wanted for him…me. Snow's forcing him to be a killer. It's as though it's been clandestine."
Katniss blinks back her tears as she pushing the photos to the side, moving closer to Peeta," This floor is freezing. You're going to catch a cold with how soaked you already are."
Peeta fights her off, his arm flying out from in between their bodies, the alcohol sloshing in the bottle to spill out over his body, as the bottle is flinged against the wall, shattering it, the liquid exploding onto the floor. Peeta growls pushing Katniss onto her butt, as he franticly picked up the photographs before the liquid could rush further over the wall covering them, and ultimately damaging them.
His breathing is labored as he collects the pictures in his arms with shaky hands. Katniss watches him drop the pictures onto the mattress. Peeta lands on his knees, settling his forehead against the wool blanket, his shoulders are hunched over. Katniss stands up, reaching for a towel balled up against the wall, she quickly soaks up the alcohol before it can spread further.
She's careful not to step on the glass, as Peeta jumps up pushing her back to throw the soaked towel against the wall. He hisses as his palm catches against a large piece of glass. Droplets of blood hit the floor, and he grabs his hand bringing it to his chest. Katniss tries to reach for it, but he elbows her back behind him.
"I don't need a nurse maid!"
She pushes him to the side reaching for his injured hand," Apparently you do."
Peeta pulls from her, using his other hand to rip a piece of the hem from his shirt. The material rips easily, as threads lay flat. Peeta wraps his bleeding hand with the already soaked fabric, as he groans from the alcohol entering the deep cut. Katniss pulls his hand from his body forcefully, to hold it closer to her, unfolding his fist.
"You can't leave it like this. There's sweat and alcohol on this fabric, ensuring you'll get an infection."
Peeta narrowed his eyes," What do you suggest?"
Katniss ignored his tone, pulling at his clothing," Take these off, you need to change."
Peeta reached for the hem of his torn shirt as he pulled it over his head with one hand, not wanting to jostle the fabric free from his palm. He watched her walk over to where he kept fresh clothes, as she riffled through the drawers, pulling out clean pants and a plain white undershirt.
Peeta threw the shirt to the ground, as she walked back to him stopping in front of him. She tried not to stare at his bare chest but her attention was brought to a deep scar running across his chest. Katniss reached out tracing the risen skin with her pointer finger.
Peeta shivered underneath her touch, his clouded head under his drunkenness becoming clear. She looked up to him, her dark eyes curious.
"When did this happen?"
"A few years back. Caught some shrapnel in the chest," his voice became low almost inaudible," I was one of the few to make it out, the others including Rue weren't so lucky."
Katniss withdrew her hand, lowering her eyes, as Peeta kept studying her face. Katniss reaches for the undershirt, as Peeta pulls her body to his; he lowers his face to hers, their lips inches apart before Katniss pulls from his grasp, backing up enough to slap him full across the cheek.
Peeta's well hand goes to his cheek, as Katniss fumes with rage, her chest heaving. Peeta smirks slightly, tilting his head to the side, while he still holds his face.
"I'm assuming you're not in the mood?"
"No! Not all of us are so drunk off of our asses, we do things we shouldn't. Besides if we did anything, I can bet you wouldn't remember."
Peeta lets out a deep laugh, which makes Katniss even angrier," Sweetheart, I've never been that drunk."
Katniss reaches for the clothes throwing them against his chest, as they bounce off landing on the floor," Get dress, so we can stitch up your hand before you bleed everywhere."
"So, afterwards perhaps we can finish what I tried to start?"
Katniss narrowed her eyes at him;" You are such an ass."
006D.
Brenton
The navy of the curtains block out any sunlight coming through the barred windows, as the oaky smell of cedar spreads through the room. Deep green carpet is laid out through the office, and I have to admit I'm more than comfortable here than I've ever been when I'm in Snow's office.
The room is dark except for the strategically placed lamps in each corner. I lean back into the front of the large wooden desk, my arms crossed over my chest. My right leg shakes from the anxiety, and I can't help but worry if he was able to get free from the Keepers watch to meet me here.
I reach up running my fingers through my hair; the locks are slick due to the grease build up, reminding me of how much I need to shower. I suppose I could use the large bathroom inside my appointed training area. After Haymitch had left me lying on the floor nursing my pride, a young female code came in carrying an assigned uniform for me.
The set was dark in color; I assumed it was the same uniform I had seen Serkan and the other competitors wear. The young girl glanced at me giving me a faint smile, her blonde hair falling around her face, her shoulder were hunched over a clear sign her spirit had been broken like everyone else who is imprisoned here.
I had tried to talk to her, be cordial, but when I stood up she hurried out of the room, leaving the door open. I had brushed the worry I felt off, and had sought out the laundry room, looking for someone in particular.
He was easy to spot over all of the smaller codes under his direction. His light blonde hair stuck up from the sweat drenching his head, perspiration soaking the back of his uniform. He was bent down picking up a load of sheets, shaking his head.
One of the younger codes had tripped and fell, the clean sheets falling to the floor. The smaller boy had his head bowed, clearly ashamed of his actions.
"107, next time you trip and fall make sure you fall on your face instead of dropping the clean laundry."
"Yes,193. I know you now have to report me to the Keeper supervisor, so I can be punished accordingly."
Carr sighed," Kid, no one's going to punish you. Just go back to work," the little boy looked up his eyes wide with surprise," but I may give you a light kick in the ass next time you drop clean sheets on this nasty ass floor."
"Thank you, 193."
Carr began to smile before clearing his throat, his normal gruff coming back," Go the hell back to work!"
The young code smiled, turning his back to Carr to join another group of codes separating a massive pile of laundry. Carr shook his head raising his hand up to his mouth to cover his smile. I began to walk closer to him, as a group of hushed tones flooded around me.
This alerted Carr, as he turned to where I was his brow furrowing. He squared his shoulders folding his arms over his chest. The light blonde hairs on his arms were tangled with sweat and dirt, and I noticed how complex Carr really was. Gruff and sarcastic on the outside but he could be kind and wise.
Carr shook his head," Well what would a great competitor such as Brenton Mellark be doing down in the muck with us low lives?"
I shake my head, having to grin slightly," It's Everdeen remember?"
Carr laughs pointing a finger my way," Oh, right! You have daddy issues."
I try not to roll my eyes, as I run my fingers through my dark hair. The heat of the room has started to affect me, and I can feel the itchy material of the code uniform forming to my skin.
"I need some help."
Carr looks more confused than ever," From me?"
I nod trying to ignore the pride washing over him," Yes."
Carr laughs laying his hands over his chest flat," I'm just filled with all kinds of happiness."
"Just meet me in Master Heavensbee's office in two hours."
I turn to walk out, having to navigate myself though a mob of codes and laundry. I have my back to Carr, when I can hear him shout out at me.
"Exactly, what type of help are we talking about?"
I had walked back to the training area, hoping to find Master Heavensbee roaming around the corridors. I had searched for about thirty minutes when I had spotted him standing outside the competitor's quarters. His suit was a dark purple, the lines clean and straight, much like his slicked back dark hair.
I quickened my footsteps proceeding near him, when he glanced my way, a small smile curling his thin lips. He turned his hands in his pockets; his posture was more casual than I had remembered. He opened his mouth to speak before I was to do so.
"Ah, dear boy. I've been looking for you."
I stop short a few feet from him," Me sir?"
He brings his hand out of his pocket waving in the air," Oh yes! I assumed you would have already moved into your quarters."
"I declined the offer, sir. On principal."
Plutarch nodded," Yes, I should have guessed you would. You are a strong young man, with quite a moral understanding."
My brow furrows," That is interesting sir, seeing most individuals of ranking here, see many of my actions as those of a weak mind."
Plutarch lowers his voice, as I step closer," Don't let others dictate the person you know yourself to be."
I nod," Yes, sir."
Plutarch clasps his hands together," Now, let's get to the matter at hand."
"Sir?"
"I have a few tapes and files I'm waiting for you to look over."
I can't help let out a small laugh, "Actually the reason I was looking for you was to request a few tapes on Vanquisher Abernathy."
Plutarch straightened his suit jacket," Than we both must think the same way, because my office is free for the rest of the afternoon for you to few the tapes and file."
My mouth was agape and I had assumed requesting the tapes and privacy in his office was going to be almost impossible," Sir, I can't deny to you how shocked I am you've already arranged such a thing."
Plutarch leaned in again," My boy, do not be surprised by how others are more than they appear to be."
I was even more confused than before, as he turned on his heel, lightly whistling to himself, making his way down the red carpeted corridor. I had hurried to where I had known Plutarch's office to be. The door was open slightly, not having to be opened by the electronic pad next to the door frame.
I opened the door slowly, ready for any surprise when I stepped through. I had spotted the stack of thin discs setting on the desk, an old manila folder lying underneath. I decided to wait on Carr's arrival hoping he had agreed to come.
So for the last hour I've been leaning against the desk in Master Heavensbee's office trying to resist the urge to start without him. I lay my hands over my face rubbing quickly, as I hear light knocking on the door. I stand up as Carr pokes his head through the opening.
"I feel very creped out being in here, without Heavensbee knowing."
"Relax he said it was ok."
"Says you! Listen I'm more fragile then you. I don't think surviving a whipping is likely for me."
I shake my head," It's ok."
Carr walks into the room completely," Alright, but if we get caught I'm selling you out."
"Thank you, Carr. Your loyalty to me is overwhelming."
Carr shrugs," Anything to help."
I walk to the back of the desk picking up the discs and the file. Carr looks around half expecting to be caught, not yet convinced a group of Keepers won't burst through the doors. I reach to the side of the desk punching in the codes to reveal the screening area.
A thin black screen lowers from the ceiling quietly, causing Carr to jump a little from surprise. I try not to laugh but fail as Carr glares at me walking to the front of the desk. I round the side of the desk joining him, handing him the discs.
"I asked you here to help give me some context. These are the recordings of Vanquisher Haymitch Abernathy's games. He's my mentor."
Carr mouth opened wide," No shit?"
"I faintly remembered his name, which led me to try to ask Heavensbee for some information on him. But I get the sense you know what's going on more than most."
Carr nods," Abernathy is different than most Vanquishers. He's not a career for starters."
I hold my hand up to stop him," Ok, what's career exactly?"
Carr leans into the desk further, settling in," Originally, the careers were codes you were picked up from the more Capitol friendly districts like 1 and 2, who had already had combat training. But now days it's different."
I stand up facing him," How so?"
"Former competitors who were favored by Snow, elected to have children who they gave over to the games after they were born. They would live in the hoarding houses comfortably, until they came of age to be sent to the competitors housing to begin training."
"You're telling me, codes conceived children for the only reason to be favored by the Capitol."
"More than favored, any competitor contributing a child receives enough wages to never want for anything."
"So they sell their children."
"You got it."
I run my hand over my face," Serkan's one of them isn't he? A child conceived for the games?"
"Yes. And he only has three more battles to go through before he earns his freedom and coin. If he succeeds he'll be a Vanquisher."
"How do you become a Vanquisher?"
"You have to make it through eleven battles."
"Which means-"
Carr nods," You have to kill through them."
My face falls and I try to keep myself calm, the dire circumstances hitting me," And Haymitch is different why?"
Carr puts his hands together," Most district codes are just cannon fodder for the games, if one lasts more than thirty minutes its' a miracle. The codes aren't even trained."
"But Abernathy was?"
"Yes, because he caught the eye of Snow and other council members."
"How?"
"He seriously injured a couple of careers and killed a Keeper in the process. No one really knows what exactly happened, but I think Snow was impressed by him. So he got on the radar. He made it through his eleven battles, one of the only district codes to win and he left. He just disappeared, but showed up about ten years ago, when he tried to mentor a few codes but none of them made it through the first excursion, and he disappeared again."
"You said something about council members?"
"Yh. You don't know about the council?"
I shake my head," No."
"You should. Your grandfather on your father's side was one."
"There's a lot I don't know."
"Well, for what it's worth you scored when you got Abernathy. He is a drunk but a good man."
"You talk like you know him."
"We all had lives before we came here, Brenton."
I smile," You called me Brenton."
Carr leans his head back rolling his eyes," Oh, Spirits! Don't get all sappy on me, you're not my type."
I laugh as Carr hands me the discs, I take them as he walks towards the exit. I look down at the tapes in my hand, sighing.
"Thanks, Carr."
He waves behind him," Yh, yh. This doesn't mean we're friends."
I can hear the humor in his voice and I laugh at his retreating back. Carr pauses at the door, holding onto the frame. I look up, when his footsteps stop.
"If you need anything else you know where I'll be."
"Sweating your ass off while you terrorize small children?"
"Yes."
I shake my head, as he closes the door behind him. I set the discs onto the desk picking the first one up slipping it into a slit underneath the screen. I lean back against the desk, as I open up the file. For the most part everything Carr had told me about Abernathy is inside the file.
A few notes scrolled in black ink are on the sides, and I can only assume its Snow's penmanship. It's almost unreadable, but the words competitor is scrolled though, as is the incident which made Snow aware of Haymitch.
Apparently he had come to the camp with a younger sibling who had been beaten by a group of careers while a Keeper stood by. The boy had died in his bed in the male codes barracks, and Haymitch had taken his revenge.
He had been thrown into a cell alone for about twenty days with only a little to eat each day, but without human contact. The notations say by the time the training mentors had gotten a hold of him he was full of rage and blood lust, almost inconsolable.
I picked up a picture which is pinned to the file. His hair is darker and his grey eyes remind me a bit of my mothers. I'm surprised by the static at first when the footage starts, but I can't stop from my mouth dropping open when I witness the brutality of Abernathy's actions.
He's swift and unrelenting, but even in the black and white footage I can see the blood lust in his eyes, and I'm afraid I'm venturing down the safe path.
006E.
The air in the room has become warm, as it threatens to choke her. Katniss tries to ignore the assaulting smell of alcohol as she weaves the thread through his hand. Peeta occasionally tries to pull free of her grasp but he stills his movement as soon as she glances up from her actions to narrow her eyes at him.
The odor of alcohol has started to seep from his pores; a thin sheen of sweat covers his face as he holds his forehead with his free hand. Katniss can hear him groan occasionally, and she has to resist the urge to roll her eyes.
Katniss weaves the last piece of thread through his hand, she secures the knot, before lying the needle and thread on the side of the table. Peeta rocks to each side, making the wood creak underneath him. Katniss opens the container of salve, placing her pointer finger in, moving up to the lip of the container, pulling free with bright yellow medication.
She touches his palm gently applying the salve on to prevent infection. Katniss reaches for the clean bandaging she had found in the bathroom connected to his quarters, wrapping it securely around his hand. She tore the ends to ensure a knot could be tied to make sure the bandage stayed on tight.
Katniss runs her hand over the bandage, moving Peeta hand in her own studying her work. Katniss nods to herself pleased with her work, as she reaches for the needle, pressing the tip into the flesh above his bandage where the skin isn't covered. Peeta yelps, and then flinches from the pain of his surprise which results in a deep moan.
"What the hell?"
Katniss smiled," That was for hitting on me, and trying to take advantage of me."
Peeta hold his head, peering at her from underneath his hand," Katniss you and I both know no one ever takes advantage of you unless you're willing. And can you blame me, for wanting a kiss?"
Katniss folded her arms," Peeta, I doubt all you wanted was a kiss."
"I was only hoping for a kiss, but I would have been open for more."
Katniss shook her head, turning to leave," You just don't know when to stop."
Peeta lowered his hand watching her walk to the door, he opened his mouth to talk but the alcohol has caused it to become dry. He pressed the top of his mouth to his tongue trying to produce any moisture.
He coughed, his voice was horse and tight," Do you remember when you found me running up down the hill in the rain?"
Katniss stopped in her tracks turning around to face him, she was furious by his recent behavior and she was preparing to see a sarcastic smirk on his face. She was more than ready to lash out at him, but she stopped short when she saw the look in his eyes.
He had lowered his hands, setting them in his lap; his shoulders were slightly hunched over, making him look smaller than he actually was. Her chest tightened as his blue eyes met her dark ones; the broken glint in his eyes almost caused her to cry.
He looked the way he did when she had found him running in the rain trying to get back something he had lost.
"Yes, I remember."
Peeta drew in a breath and Katniss could see his eyes just so slightly watering up," I feel like I've been running up and down a hill, waiting for you to find me."
"Peeta-"
"I don't know what I'm doing anymore Katniss. How did I become this person? How did we end up where we are?"
"I wish I could say something to make it all make sense, but I can't."
Peeta nods," Do you ever imagine what it would have been like if I had never left to find Haymitch?"
Katniss nods, as she presses her nails into her balled fists trying to fight the urge to cry," I do."
Peeta takes in a shuddering breathe," And?"
"It would have been wonderful…at first. But then you would have become angry or even bitter. Peeta what you do is important, it's a part of who you are, and I've always been proud of you. You give those a voice and chance that wouldn't have it otherwise. And I think it's not in your nature to back down, or to hide out. Your strong and kind, I just think you lost your way a little."
Katniss wiped the tears from her face as they started to fall down her cheeks. Peeta watched her fidget, upset to be so vulnerable in front of him. It had been such a long time since they had even been in the room alone with each other, it felt as though they were meeting each other for the first time.
"See you did come to the end of the hill."
Katniss let out a small laugh," You're still drunk."
Peeta tried to laugh, his head pounding as he held up to fingers pursing them almost together but not touching," Just a little."
"So, it's safe to assume you won't recollect most of this conversation?"
"I'll be lucky if I can remember most of the week."
Katniss shook her head laughing as Peeta rubbed his temple. Peeta watched her as she looked around the room, averting her eyes from his stare.
Peeta let out a loud cough," I should get in the shower and bathe, since I'm covered in sweat and smell like a distillery."
"Good plan."
"There's someone I work with, a friend, who should be back soon from a supply run. I'm planning on filling him in on the Brenton situation. Would you like to be there when I speak to him?"
Katniss could feel how awkward the space between them was becoming," No, it's fine, but maybe find me afterwards?"
"Yes, of course."
Katniss turned to leave, as Peeta lowered his head. Katniss turned back around quickly, alerting Peeta to look back up.
"I was wondering if there was somewhere I could rest, and maybe a change of clothes?"
Peeta nodded," Yes. There are some quarters next door, you could stay in. And I'm sure there's someone about your size around here."
Katniss nodded walking to the door as she pointed to her right,"This way?"
Peeta nodded," Yes, next door on the right."
Katniss gave him once last look before she walked through the door closing it behind her. The metal closing echoed through the room, as Peeta held his head in his hands. His hand ached from the laceration and the stitches.
He was tempted to reach underneath his bed and down another bottle the alcohol Johanna had found on one of her supply runs. However he decided against it, aware Finnick would be back soon, and he wanted to be at least half way sober when filling him in to the situation.
Peeta shook his head trying to clear it as he pushed himself off the desk careful not to further injure his hand. He met the ground with shaky legs as he steadied himself using the edge of the desk. Peeta stood holding the desk as he used it for support.
He breathed in deeply, the raw stench of his body odor and the alcohol almost made him gag, but he could faintly smell her under the harsh aromas. He closed his eyes remembering her scent, so faintly sweet, like wildflowers which grew by the lake on the land where her family's cabin was.
Having her near again was breaking him, and he cursed himself for allowing her to see him to shallow and worthless. All he wanted to do was press his face into her hair and breathe her in. She was his lifeline, and he wanted nothing more than to be saved.
Peeta ran his hands over his face, the bandage almost catching at his nose. He knew he was fooling himself if he had any hope he and Katniss would ever find themselves back to each other. He would help her get their son back and he would have to let them go. He had to learn to be selfless for his family, even if being without them was tearing him a part.
006F.
Brenton
The training center is empty and I can hear my pulse race in my ears. I had watched the entire series of recordings of Haymitch's games, which has only heightened my anxiety. I lean against the far wall from the door, wanting to be prepared for his arrival.
My head is pounding from the lack of sleep, and I reach up to rub my temples. My left hand rests on my forehead as my right scratches an itch on my stomach, my skin not yet used to material which isn't irritating in every aspect. The soft material of the training uniform shirt, bunches underneath my fingers, and I'm thankful to also have boots which aren't two sizes too large for my feet.
Three identical buckles wrap around the upper part of the boot covering my ankle, my black pants matching my shirt, securely tucked in. On my way back from Plutarch's office I had ran into my prep team. I have to admit, the urge to run the other way was overwhelming.
Venia was the first to advance towards me, her arms outstretched; I was on the defensive until I realized she was preparing to hug me. I stood there not moving, her toned arms washed in pea green wrapped around me, my arms pinned to my sides. I had no assumptions of how to react in the situation, so I merely just stood as still as I knew how.
Venia squeezed tight and released her pressure, her arms starting to leave my personal space but not before giving me a light slap on my behind. I yelped loudly from the contact which earned a giggle from her as well as the others standing behind her, their hands covering their smiles.
I politely nodded to Flavius and Octavia, as well as thanking Venia for her support. She giggled once more, murmuring about my eloquent way with words.
I shrugged my shoulders as the prep team, circled me like before, Flavius and Octavia taking me by each arm, pulling me into the training area, cutting across the practice floor to the large washroom. I was taken aback by how large it was with white washed walls, and bright red flowy curtains.
A large tub was set up against the far wall; I had enough time to spot it before my clothes were once again torn from my body. I tried to ignore the roaming hands, not wanting to know if they belonged to either a woman or a man. It took about an hour before I was bathed and clothed; Flavius would consistently click his tongue at his disproval of my bathing habits, or lack thereof.
After I was ready to train, the prep team bid me farewell, Flavius and Octavia nodded to me curtly, as Venia hugged me again, her left hand stilled on my behind for longer than I would have liked. I could hear Octavia snapping at her, the tone tight and annoyed.
Venia just pulled back from me lightly slapping my face, shaking her head about how handsome I was, and if only I was from the Capitol. I couldn't help but chuckle at her behavior, knowing it came from a place of affection and not malice.
The air in the training area became quiet and almost unbearable after the prep team left, leaving me with my own thoughts and doubts in my ability to become the person I needed to be to survive the arena. I feel as though I'm living in the shadow of Peeta Mellark, perceived as the legacy of his great accomplishments in the resistance, but all I feel is empty.
I'm not brave or even strong, I continue to worry about my mother and what has become of her. I have a version of myself I show to the world, one where I'm not a frightened six teen year old boy, and I'm scared the violence and eminent death of the arena will be enough to shatter my false bravado.
I'm lost, permanently drowning and I desperately need a life line. The metal door creaks open and I'm brought out of my train of thought by the sound. I straighten my back, my hands balling at my sides. My bangs hang at my cheekbones, the strands falling naturally after being washed.
I'm taken aback when Haymitch walks in, looking almost normal. His hair is now combed and pulled back into a piece of elastic, and his clothes are plain and black, matching my own uniform. He however, still has his full beard, but it appears to have been trimmed and up kept. I fold my arms hoping to hide my anxieties, as he walks towards me.
I clear my throat, trying to rid it of the knot forming there," I see you cleaned up."
Haymitch nods towards me, as he walks to where I am," Same to you, kid," Haymitch rubs at his jaw," I'm ok with a good scrub down, but some of those prep teams have grabby hands, and I'm far too old and drunk for any fooling around right now. Plus, I'm not into the Capitol broads there's no telling where an extra appendage may pop up. Only district woman for me, where they can drink you under the table and kick your ass for being too fresh."
I have to laugh a little," Reminds me of my mother."
Haymitch nods, clearing his throat," So are you ready to prepare?"
I keep my arms folded closing the gap between us," You mean, am I ready to die?"
"That's why we're here kid to make sure, you don't."
I reach up moving my bangs behind my ears," I watched the recordings of your games," This catches Haymitch's attention, his posture straightening," Is that what you're going to teach me? To kill with no remorse? To be a monster?"
"There's a difference between having to kill to survive, and needing to feel the rush of killing, making it your whole world."
"How do I know which one will apply to me?"
"You don't until you're in it."
I nod, but I keep my guard up, especially after what had happened the last time I had underestimated the man. Haymitch scratches the side of his face, his expression from off; before he clears his throat, looking me square in the eye.
"First things first, we need to gage where you are. You're going up against careers you have been training for years, and there's no fooling ourselves they all won't be out for your head. You got a target on your back, kid," Haymitch steps back, bending his arms at the elbow, stretching his muscles and leaning his head to each side, popping sounding as the stress knots leave his body," Now, I see how good you are when fighting careers when they're unsuspecting, and how you handled perverts trying to poke it to little girls, but how can you manage against someone ready for the attack?"
"I thought you said you wanted to see where my skills were at?"
Haymitch holds his arms out," We are. What better way than to put it to some real life application?"
"You want me to spar with you?"
"No, I want you to try to kick my ass."
I shake my head, walking towards him," I'm not going to get into a pissing contest with you."
"Here's the thing kid. You fight against your nature, you're a fighter plain and simple it's in your bones. There's nothing wrong with being able to defend yourself, but you can't stand the idea you may have to actually get real with yourself for once. There's a reason you almost killed Cray for hurting that little girl. Why you with stood Thread's whipping? Why the only reason you agreed to compete after watching others die? It's in you kid, but you have to get over all the shit in your head telling you, you're not strong enough."
"Snow seems to disagree with you, he has a solid opinion I'm weak."
"Fuck him," this gets my attention," Do you know how many times Snow has been out of his office in the dirt with the rest of us? Only twice, and the last time was about eighteen years ago, when a female code escaped. Snow doesn't lower himself for just anyone. You're special kid. And I'm hoping you don't get dropped in the first two minutes of being in the arena. So sack up and fucking attack me!"
Haymitch advances on me quickly and I turn my body away from the wall not wanting to get blocked in. We keep rounding each other, studying the other closely, our hands open revealing our palms to the other, ready for an attack.
My breathing is fast, and I tell myself to slow my pace, however Haymitch hasn't lost his composure, his eyes dark. I almost miss the extension of his arm as it flies to my right side of my face, but I'm ready for it and I lean back away, his fist moving in the space in front of the bridge of my nose.
I recover quickly catching his wrist and sending his elbow back towards him to collide with his face. His head falls back but pops forward quickly, as I'm attacked with a barrage of fists coming towards my body.
I slip pass most of them, only a couple catching me in the ribs, and one slamming at the side of my face. I keep my defensive stance as he stops attacking, wiping the sweat on his face on the hem of his shirt. I'm struggling to not hyperventilate, while he looks perfectly calm.
"Not bad kid, but you're afraid to attack. You can not be afraid to go on the offense don't wait for the other person to come after you."
I run my hand over my face wiping the sweat from it," Alright."
"I want to test you on different weapons. Most likely, swords, spear, knives, and perhaps archery."
I stand tall," The bow and arrow is my weapon."
Haymitch nods, "Very well, prove it."
It had taken Haymitch about ten minutes to hang a line of dummies from the rafters, each hanging from a thick piece of rope. He pushed the one on the far left to the side causing the others the sway back and forth. I stood in the middle of the training area watching him, as he walked over to the wall removing a silver bow with matching arrows.
He trudged over to me throwing the bow and quiver at me, my hands darting out quickly catching each. I turn the quiver on his side, an arrow sliding out. I lay the quiver down on the floor next to me. I balance the bow in my hand trying to get a feel for it, before placing the arrow at the nock. I position my body, my feet at equal placement matching my shoulders.
My arms bend at the elbow raising the bow to my eye line. I let go, the arrow flies into the chest of the center dummy. I keep my stance as Haymitch hands me five more arrows, telling me to show him something worth seeing, I nod as I place each arrow at the nock, once at a time, each one piercing where the dummies heart should be.
Haymitch instructs me to do it once more, but as I'm about to release an arrow, I see him coming from the corner of my eye. I point the arrow at his throat, but he's armed with a large blade, and he's close enough to knock the bow from my grasp.
I'm surprised at first, watching the bow and arrow clatter to the ground, my attention is soon back to him as he tosses me a blade, his stance at the ready to attack.
"You're good with the bow and arrows now let's see how you are with a blade."
"Why would I need the blade if I can just pierce them with an arrow?"
"Because you won't always be able to shoot, you need to be able to defend yourself at close range."
I don't have enough time to react before he lurches at me, I quickly side step his assault, as he knocks the blade from my hand. I jump back before his blade can cut my stomach, the material of my shirt now open showing the skin below.
I rear back, kicking him hard in the stomach, causing him to double over. I take this opportunity to slide for my blade, gripping it tight. Haymitch pounces on me, as I turn the blade to rest against my wrist, twisting my arm around to cut the side of his face. He stops short, grinning wide, his hand goes to the side of his face recovering a bit of blood. I'm still ready to attack when he throws his blade to the floor, laughing.
I straighten my back still holding the blade," That was for before."
"Now that is what I want, kid! Good work!"
"I did just cut you."
Haymitch shrugs," This. Naw I've had worse done to me by the women I've slept with."
My face scrunches," That's gross!"
"You took the offense, not just defense. And you are skilled, in the bow, but surprisingly enough the wielding of knives also. Have you always had this talent?"
I shrug," I was taught about archery from my mother, but the thing with the knives as has always been something I can do."
Haymitch nods," The knives, can you throw to long distances and not miss?"
I grin, turning quickly throwing the blade in my hand at one of the dummies still hanging, the blade embedding into its throat.
I grin even wider," I'm thinking…yes."
Haymitch lets out a deep laugh as he shakes his head. I stand there pleased with myself, as a knock sounds at the door. Haymitch walks by me, patting me on the back as he makes his way to the door. I turn my back stretching out my arms, preparing myself for another onslaught of training.
I can hear Haymitch talking to someone, and he oddly enough sounds cordial. I brush it away until I hear her voice coming from the other side of the room. I whip around quickly, watching her talk to Haymitch in hushed tones.
I can't stop looking at her, she's wearing black paints similar to mine, but she has a tight black sleeveless top on, the straps are thin and the skin above the middle of her back is bare. She's bare foot, and I can see sheen of sweat across her face, her dark hair is pulled behind her falling in waves. She glances to me, and nods to something Haymitch has said. I swallow hard as I find her padding over to where I stand.
A few strands fall in front of her face, as she becomes closer to me. She stops short a few feet in front of me, and I can't take my eyes from her, she looks absolutely beautiful.
I swallow again," I haven't seen you around much."
Daria pushes the hair from her face," I had something to do in the Capitol. I'm shocked you even noticed my absence with how busy you must be."
I lower my face, then look back up to her green eyes," I notice when you're not around."
I can see her blush, and I can't help but grin at her embarrassment. We both stand there watching each other until Haymitch walks up to us, watching our interaction. The silence is awkward and Haymitch gives a low long whistle before clearing his throat.
"Kid, you're good, but you have a weakness, which Snow and the other council members will take advantage of," I watch him closely," Broads," Daria glares at him and I have to stifle a laugh," Fine, women. This is why she's here, to give you an opportunity to get over it."
I can't help laughing out loud, as I point to Daria," You want me to spar with her?"
Daria narrows her eyes at me," Why is it so funny?"
I turn to her annoyed," I'm not fighting you!"
Daria holds her hands out in front of her pulling them together stretching out her fingers," You don't have a choice because I'm going to fight you."
Haymitch backs up a grin clearly on his face, I watch him walk back, leaving the practice mat," Haymitch you can't be serious!"
He throws up his hands, as I watch him lean against the wall casually. I'm busy trying to get another answer out of him when I'm suddenly struck against the side of my face, my head springs to the side, shock washing over me. I look to Daria who has her hands up ready to strike again, her green eyes are bright, and I'm almost too distracted by the way she looks, before she strikes again but this time I catch her fist, pleased with myself, grinning until she moves into me, kneeing me in the stomach, causing me to double over.
I'm still hunched over, as her knee comes up to my face but I block it with my hands shoving her to the ground. She falls to the mat, dark hair fanning around her, as I fall on top of her. We're inches apart, our breathing mingling with the other as our chests rise in sequence.
We hold eye contact for a few seconds before she hooks her leg onto my hip, her hand bracing at my shoulders, as rolling us over, so she has the advantage. I'm assaulted with a punch to the face before I block her before she can deliver a second. I throw her off to the side; she hits the mat rolling to a standing position. I stand up brushing off my knees as she comes at me once more. I wait until she's close enough before I take hold of her, running her into the nearest wall, her back slamming up against the wall.
Her right knee is caught between our bodies, and her hands are trapped also while hold them in my own. Our breathing is heavy, and I feel as though our sparing session was more about foreplay than actual training. I want to kiss her, and I lower my face to hers, until I'm caught off guard by her speaking.
"Don't kiss me."
I'm taken a back, hating the embarrassment I feel at the moment, more so when I hear Haymitch clapping from behind. I lower my head as I put her down to the ground. She averts her eyes from me, which is more than ok for me at the given moment. Daria walks over to the middle of the training center, while Haymitch still leans against the wall, grinning ear to ear.
"Not bad kid. You were golden as soon as she pissed you off, but you still didn't lead the fight."
I look to the side," I-"
Haymitch waves his hand in the air," We'll work on it some tomorrow. I need a drink."
I watch Haymitch depart the room without as much of a look back, the metal door slamming behind him. Daria and I are left in the training area alone, and I'm entirely nervous and uncomfortable to be with her alone. She has her head down, her dark hair shielding her face from me.
I clear my throat," You didn't have to be so aggressive."
She looks up at me, her face angry," Do you think you won't have to kill any women in the arena? Some are even fiercer than any of the men and more vicious. If you can't defend yourself than you'll die."
I shake my head," You nearly took my head off a couple of times. Why don't you fight your way out of here?"
Daria throws her hands up," And go where? Not all of us have mothers you will be out there waiting for us. You hate your father so much, but at least he's alive, you have some ribbon of hope, a way to know him. I don't have any of that. My mother is dead, and I don't think she ever told my father she was pregnant. So next time you want to feel angry about who your father is, be happy you at least have one!
She turns on her heel walking out of the training area, as I stand in my spot dumbfounded. I want to follow her, but I feel powerless around her, and all I wanted was to kiss her.
A/N: Hope you're all enjoying the story! Review!
-Stace