It was like a dream. A humongous beast took her from her home and carried her swiftly to her doom. The horrifying images that kept blinking in front of her eyes showed her exactly just how limited word devastation can be, when conveying the idea behind it.
The only problem was, Mary knew she wasn't asleep. She sighed, closing her eyes and wishing for the vision playing out in front of her to disappear. When she opened them again though, the ruined landscape kept zooming past, right behind the glass she was leaning on.
She had never considered that travelling at this speed was possible. Still, no matter what she thought, the roaring monster kept pulling the endless lines of carriages without a delay.
Railway – that was what people called it. A never-ending serpentine of steel tracks, connecting various districts of the empire. Those tracks used to connect most of the cities on the continent, or at least that's what people said.
Now, there was only this single one working. The remnant of the forgotten times. Formed from the pieces that were left from the original outline. Repaired with whatever people could scavenge. And the monster that was now carrying her forwards was the only one operating the line. The last of it's kind.
It was no wonder that their district got only scraps and leftovers for their work. With it being the last stop on the line, with so many people to feed standing in line in front of them, there wasn't much left. Whatever there was, had been travelling for days already...
She sighed, knowing well where that train of thought will lead her. She diverted her gaze, trying to take a break from the depressing thoughts that kept plaguing her from the moment she departed, most likely never to come back. That left her staring at the quarters she had been presented with for the trip.
It wasn't much. A bed, a desk with a chair and couple of shelves in a cabinet to hide her belongings. It was still more than she had to call her own in her short life. She had also been given new, clean clothes, and someone delivered her meal to her room every couple of hours. All three of them in a day.
At first she didn't know what to do with all the food, since she couldn't handle the portions. Still, she wasn't raised to waste anything that was edible. She got used to it after couple of days, but then the guilt came in. She often sat there, staring at her plate, a bile rising in her stomach at the thought that she stuffed her face, while her mother starved, sitting in their home helplessly, thinking about a daughter she had just lost.
"Mum..." she whispered, feeling the tears coming.
Earlier she thought that having what she had now, she wouldn't want anything ever again. A safe place, with enough food to not worry for the future. What a glamorous picture that was. Now, though, she knew better.
It was true that life with her mother wasn't easiest. They had nearly starved to death on couple of occasions. Chilled to the bone during some winters when their hut gave out at the worst moment possible. Still, no matter what, they always had each other. That comfort. Those tear filled smiles when they hit a particularly hard spot. Oh, what would she give away to have that again.
Instead, on the days that seemed to be the last ones she would ever have before her death, she was all alone. She had no one.
After the Reaping day, when they go on the train, all she did was to sit on her bed, numb with the thought of a death sentence hanging over her head. It was the next day already before a knock broke her out of her stupor. Still, it took her quite a while to get to the door and open it.
A man was waiting outside, telling her it was dinner time.
"Will you come to the table, or are you going to eat in your room like the other Tribute?" he asked, sneering. His tone said plenty of what he thought about John's extravagant behaviour. Demanding to be served his food...
In the end she was too intimidated by the unknown man, too scared to go there all on her own, too afraid of who else she might meet at the table to step out of her room. The last she heard, John also haven't been seen from the day he locked himself in his room.
That left her all alone throughout the whole journey. The only time she saw other people, was when they stopped to pick other Tributes. She watched them, and noticed that even if the land they lived on changed, the people did not. Every person she saw had been just as feeble as people in her home town had been, with the same sense of hopelessness visible in their eyes.
She haven't met any of the Tributes either. They were given their own carriages. Divided, probably to make sure that the Games wouldn't start until they were supposed to.
Mary sighed, turning to look what another bend in the road had in store for her. There wasn't much more she could do under these circumstances. But when she finally registered what was outside, she froze.
It was a town. The first one she had ever seen. The districts didn't really have towns any more. Just half repaired buildings serving major roles, with hastily raised living quarters between. Not in this one though. The houses where everywhere she looked. The tiles covering the roofs made it seem that a gigantic red carpet had been placed over them, reflecting the high sun in places.
She watched with wide eyes as it come closer and closer, and knew what it had to be.
The Capitol.
There was no other option. Sure enough, after the train made the final turn and high walls of the city enveloped them, movement sounded throughout the compartments. It wasn't long before the door to her room had been opened, and she was asked outside. Seeing John walk right past her room, she hurried after him, feeling that staying near her fellow Tribute was the best thing she could do right now.
He went to the exit, and stopped abruptly at the roar that met him once he got there. He made his way slowly down the steps prepared for them, and she could finally see the crowd gathered at the train station. People were held back by the barriers guarded by the King's enforcers, but still called to them, stretching their hands out as far as they could.
Dumbstruck, she followed Smith down the steps, and it was only when she was about to bump into him, that she noticed that he had stopped at the base of the steps. He was standing there, looking at the person who rushed in their direction.
At first the man moved as if to grab them, and forcibly drag them after him. One look at John made him reconsider, and he just urgently asked them to come after him. There were horse-drawn chariots waiting for them.
The horses knew their route well, and, once set on their way, took them along the path that was left cleared out for them. No matter how many turns they took, there was always a crowd waiting for them. Calling to them from every corner and balcony. Squeezed into every alley.
They probably thought nothing of it. Cheering the Tributes as they were dragged through the town must have been normal to them. But it made Mary hang her head and wish she was deaf, so she could get away from their shouts.
She had seen people in amok. Fear and panic was mostly the source of it. But it was the first time she saw people overwhelmed with blood-lust. Their wild gazes as they watched the Tributes pass. Their animalistic calls, persuading the participants of the massacre that was soon to happen to make it even sweeter.
It made her tremble. She hugged herself, trying to be as small as possible, so the angry heard raging nearby would miss her somehow. She shook her head slightly, hoping to clear it of of all the evil that was trying to get into her mind.
Then a whisper startled her.
"Why do you worry so much?"
She jumped, having forgotten that there was another person standing right beside her. She raised her eyes, just to see him standing there, carefree, watching the road with arms casually crossed over his chest. It was as if the raging crowd was nothing to him. At least not something he should be bothered about.
"W-What?" she stuttered, sniffing audibly.
"Why do you worry so much?" he repeated. "You're dead anyway," he added, turning and watching her with his piercing eyes when he did so.
She gapped at him, not understanding where this came from, or why was he telling her this now.
"It isn't because you're a Tribute now," he continued, seeing her inability to speak. "You've been dead for a very long time, but still haven't figured it out yet. You're not alone in this either," he said, once again turning to the road, and glancing at the crowd.
"Everything you see, everyone you've ever met. They're all dead. Gone. Maybe not now. Maybe not even in a year, but eventually, everything will perish," he said matter-of-factly, once again turning to look at her. "That's the reality we live in."
His voice was the only thing in her mind now. She didn't know why, but she knew that what he was saying was important. She hung on his every word, trying to understand. To find his trick. His method how to have a death sentence over your head and not care.
"So, I ask again, why, in the world when death is just a matter of time, you're worrying so much? It seems such a waste to squander your time like that. I'd rather enjoy my last moments," he said, shrugging like if it was the easiest thing to do.
"Enjoy how?" she just had to ask.
He cocked his head to the side in that strange manner that left her wondering about what could possibly be running through his mind.
"It's taking too long," he said in the end, and without a pause, stepped over the railing and got on the back of one of the horses.
"What are you doing?!" she hissed, her eyes wide.
"Coming?" he asked, turning back and extending his hand to her. Once again he used that tone of voice. That one that indicated that there was nothing wrong in the world. Like if he was just having a pleasant day...
It reminded her of how he behaved on the Reaping Day. He asked the same question back there, and she knew the result would be the same here. The question was just a courtesy. He would go off with or without her, it wouldn't matter to him in the least. She was the one to decide if she should follow his lead or not.
She scowled, but grabbed his hand quickly, not sure just how long he'd be willing to wait for her. As much as she hated what he was doing, showing off like that, pressuring her the way he did, the thought of staying there, alone, now, that all the eyes were upon them, would be a far worse alternative. Not only because of how it would make her feel, abandoned and alone again. She learned from the earlier Hunger Games that the Tribute that had been singled out was killed first more often than not.
His steady hand helped her settle behind him without much effort, and with two quick moves, he undid the straps that chained the horse. Without a warning, he kicked the sides of their ride, and the horse jumped into an instant gallop.
She clutched John's waist desperately, closing her eyes in fright, holding on for her dear life. In her panicked state, with wind whistling in her ears, deafening even the crowds roar as they zoomed by, all she could think was to not fall off. Then John's words came back to her.
She heard them in her mind as clearly as if he was whispering into her ear. The words kept playing over and over in her mind, mixing with the overwhelming sound of the world around her. It combined into a cacophonous wave, growing and filling her into the brim. It penetrated her, and eventually hit the spot in her that she had stayed as far away as she could.
Her well of the torments and worries. Everything she ever locked away, trying to convince herself that it was going to be fine in the end. The wave crumbled the feeble defences she had risen, and crushed the glass cage, letting all the horrors free to roam her mind. All of the pain. The sorrow. The bane of her life. The darkest nightmares she had ever conceived mixed with the monstrous wave.
In an instance, she saw her life as it really was. All the hardships bared to her eyes, without her mind, telling her it isn't so bad, trying to cloud her judgement. Her delusions of a dignified life broke when the memories swirling in her mind showed her exactly how low a person can get just to cling to their measly existance.
From within her, a rush of pain and sorrow burst, trying to find a way out. It made her catch her breath in fear she may drown. It made her heart race as her blood turned into acid. It set her skin ablaze, burning her every nerve to the point where she felt numb. It was so much that she no longer was sure if the roar she heard came from the outside, or was it her, screaming.
'No!' she wanted to yell, but her voice refused to obey. 'It can't be so!' she didn't want to believe even when she knew it to be true. 'If that's really my life, then I'd rather be dead.'
And then, as if someone flipped a switch, it was over. The feeling was gone, and she was left all alone, submerged in complete darkness. There was nothing left. Nothing mattered in the world.
With that thought came an understanding. She now knew what John meant earlier.
She was dead. It was certain. But it wasn't a curse one had to be afraid of. Maybe it was to people that lived before her. But those times were ancient. Gone, just like the people who created that mentality. With the lives the people had nowadays, death became something completely different.
It was a promise. A promise that, no matter what you make with your life, whether you rebuild this world or just kick and scream at the injustice, she will be waiting. At the end of your road, when you'll come to her battered after all the hardships of life you've been through, Death will be there.
She will take you by the hand and lead you to that perfect clearing. Lay you to grass on a sunny summer day and kiss your head while you go to rest for the last time. And pain will be no more.
She saw it now. She saw it so vividly that she wanted to run, rush to the moment of their meeting.
Was it why John decided to become a Tribute? In a world where a person can't live with dignity, what other choice is there than to die with honour? Might as well get on with it...
'You squander your time,' stopped her, but it wasn't John's voice this time. Instead, it was hers. She stopped, trying to make the sense of her own thoughts. She slowly worked through the mess in her head, piecing it back together.
The things she worried about earlier – her mother, the life she had being taken away from her – it all seemed so distant now. It was as if it happened eons ago, or even not at all. An image without a context, like a scene from a half forgotten dream.
Now, looking at those memories, she was able to notice the other side of the coin. The silver linings of those vast stormy clouds. Her mother's melodic voice when she sang old songs. A soft breeze on her cheek after a day of hard work. All those little things she missed amidst the troubles that clustered her mind.
That would be nice, Mary decided. To not be bothered by anything and experience only those sweet little details most people miss. She could do that now, she thought with relief. Not mind anything but the things she liked. What bad could happen? She was dead no matter what she did, she thought, and that thought brought a feeling of calmness that she never experienced before.
Slowly, as if waking from a long sleep, she opened her eyes. A wave of colours met her, making her think of a beautiful painting.
The people in the crowd were just blurry spots as they flew by. The noise was still there, but dull now, as if coming from far away.
She turned her head and glanced over John's shoulder when he bent forward to make the horse go even faster. The wind hit her face, making her close her eyes when she felt how it cooled her hot skin. She took a deep breath of that sweet air, that felt like if it was the first she had ever had. She felt her heart beating to the rhythm of the racing animal. Her mind started working again, powered by the exhilaration she felt. The adrenaline. The rush. The pleasure she felt...
She was reborn. Locked in the old world, but staring at it with her new eyes. And deep inside her, in the empty spot that once housed her darkest fears, that calmness settled. Just a feeling first, but in a matter of seconds it grew to a deep sense, a complete understanding, which permeated every inch of her body.
She stopped clutching his body desperately. Soon enough she stopped holding onto him at all, spreading her arms wide and letting the wind take her. She wasn't riding a horse any more. She was flying. Free and unburdened by the worries of this mortal coil.
She basked in the sense of freedom that only men who truly lost everything ever enjoyed.
She haven't even noticed when she started laughing. A first full, natural and carefree laugh she had ever had in her life.