A/N- Sorry for taking such a long break. But thank you all so much for the comments and update alert subscriptions. They really mean a lot to me. Anyway, my updates for this fic will probably be every two weeks or so, most likely on Monday's or Thursday's. If there is any specific day that everyone works, I can see what I can do. Just let me know in a comment or PM.
By the way, I did something kind of fun with this chapter. I hid three song titles from 'Songs from District Twelve and Beyond' in this chapter. The first person to tell me what they are will get to choose a plot point for the next chapter. Please use a site account (or tell me your user name) so I can PM you. Good luck!
Chapter 3
"You're not Clove."
These words are the ones that hit me as soon as I walk in the following day. Something about the tone they were delivered in, perhaps the faint note of betrayal or disappointment, immediately makes me cringe with guilt. It isn't like I ever claimed to be, of course. But I never did anything to show that I wasn't. And it may not have worked if I did. Still, in order for the tiny, insubstantial wisp of a plan I developed to work, trust is necessary. And whatever bit of that I had managed to gain is now lost.
"I'm sorry." If I cannot audibly say so, forming the shape of the words is the least I can do. So I repeat the action, unable to think of anything else appropriate. Tears are flowing over both of our cheeks rapidly, eyes trained upon one another. It seems as though both of us have a massive amount of guilt, though for different parts of the situation we are in. Some day, this won't happen anymore. Some day, when the Games are abolished, no one will feel the way that these unfortunate winners so often do. The challenge will be making 'some day' come as soon as possible.
"I failed, didn't I?" Seeing as I don't answer in any way, he continues. "I messed up. If I didn't, CLove would be here. This is all my fault. There is a moment of silence before something shifts upon his face. A new expression, one I had only seen from the footage in the arena, takes over. It is the same one that caused so much intimidation in other competitors, yet twisted enjoyment in the Capitol's viewers.
"No, it is their fault. They did this. The Gamemaker's, Snow, the District rebels when they lost. It is because of all of them. And what are we?" Now, the intense glare is directed away from me, silently indicating that this 'we' does not include me. "Are we just pieces in this game? To be manipulated and transformed? As if it really is just a game. I guess that was the plan all along. Not that it was hidden, right?"
No, it wasn't. Not really. But in some ways, it was. At least, it was to us, and the citizens of our parts of Panem. Their eyes open only to a certain point before their vision becomes foggy. To them, the games are incredible when they are happening. Then, the next year comes around and the old Games are nothing to remember. They just want more. Same as us in the past. But now that we have a personal reason to, we know the truth. It is time for the system to stop.