Dana Musgavi, 24 years old.
Victor of the 125th Hunger Games
It had been six months since my Victory. Six months I had sheltered within the confines of my luxury coastal mansion. My mother and father did the exterior tasks for me while I took care of internal chores such as cleaning, cooking, and decorating. At least I tried to when the fleeting moments of motivation came to me. In reality I spent most days sitting within involuntary silence waiting for a socially acceptable time to go back to bed and mentally hide from my new, unwanted life.
We didn't discuss Ari. He was a ghost that haunted the halls of the home that should have been his. My dear brother left drifting along waiting for someone to acknowledge him. My parents, through grief I assume, refused to talk about him or his passing. How did you talk about such a bright soul being gone from the world with no hope of returning? I had come to learn over these months that people handled their grief in different ways but I just wished such a thing didn't leave me to heal and mourn alone.
I had tried my best over these lonely months. I tried to place photos of happier memories with Ari around the house, dedicate a bedroom to him, and talk to the air in the hopes he could listen. I turned all the photos around to silence the panic attacks, locked his bedroom to avoid the acceptance that it would remain empty within his neverending absence. I still spoke to him but I felt this was less of a way to heal from his loss but to cope with my deteriorating mental health from the isolation. Sometimes I felt him beside me, usually as I walked through the empty halls of the house wailing in pain and torment. Like a hand on my shoulder or a gust of cold wind brushing up against my cheek. Other times I felt like I was finally losing my mind and I was a few more weeks of isolated mourning from seeing his form sat by the place setting I laid out for him with every meal.
Given all of this I was somewhat excited when the victory tour rolled around. A week of seeing the faces of the children who haunted my dreams was horrifying but nothing could cut deeper than the loss of Ari. I was also rather excited to have human interaction beyond the mournful company of my parents.
In fact it was the most relaxed I had found myself in six months as we raced through the countryside blanketed in snow that shimmered under the bright headlights of the bullet train. I found myself more comfortable within the final carriage of the train, watching the world fade into distance as I allowed myself to be lulled to sleep by the soft mechanical sounds of the locomotive. It was my safe space, for that short week no one could hurt me within that carriage. Doors locked and buried under a soft fur blanket and all the food I could eat at my request. It made the speeches just that much bearable but by no means made them easy.
To look at the families who mostly lost two children to my Games and act like I deserved life more than them was difficult. Especially when I didn't feel like I deserved nor wanted to be in my position at all. To act like the cat who had got the cream when in reality I would have swapped my wasted victory with any of their children. In the end I took to staring between the screens that displayed the faces of the fallen and recited my speeches into a distant, robotic tone.
By the time we reached District one I felt a wave of relief wash over me as I uttered the same monotone words I had said to every grieving District.
"Panem today, Panem tomorrow, Panem Always."
Julius Snow, aged 24
President of Panem
I swirled the drink around in the crystal glass with an uninterested sigh. All around me people in colorful dresses danced and sang around the presidential balcony, their myriad of jewels glistening like the broken light on a seabed. It would have been a breathtaking sight if I wasn't so bored of the people who wore them.
Every year the Capitol elite crawled from their home like cockroaches to get a look at the latest Victor. Some would claim they supported them from the start, others would critique the work of their stylist, and the rest would bid to own the Victor in question. The latter had already happened tonight with two overweight, ghastly men asking the price tag I had placed on Dana. It was a request made with such ease that my stomach turned. Was this really how my great-uncle had run things? Selling the Victors out to the highest bidder for a few coins to add to the treasury? The one he emptied by his death anyway. How many Victors had he sold to either himself or his friends over the years? I was sickened by the idea that the people around me expected such a barbaric act to continue under my own rule.
Victors should be honored in Panem. Those who had sacrificed the most to keep our values strong and showcase the mercy of the Capitol. At least that was what they told me in my tutoring lessons. This would suggest that Victors are to be treated as important citizens and protected under the rule of the reigning President. What example of mercy did selling our Victors bodies and killing their families give the Districts? How could we demand their respect as head of states if we treated their more honored citizens with such thoughtlessness.
My thoughts were interrupted when my personal aid Gaia made her way onto the balcony, bowing before me. I handed my drink to a nearby Avox and quickly followed after Gaia who led me down the winding halls of the Presidential Mansion towards a small room to the east. She opened the door for me before giving another quick bow and leaving.
Turning back to the room, I smiled as my eyes made contact with Dana who stood by the window illuminated by the bright lights from outside. She returned the smile in a somewhat robotic way, her eyes looking distant and tired from beneath her red fringe. She bowed gracefully before me, lifting up the sides of her white dress to allow for more movement.
"How did you find the Victory Tour?" I asked, closing the door behind me as I moved to join her by the window. She gave a small shrug and her eyes moved to the crowds outside.
"It wasn't easy but…nothing seems to compare anymore." It was a sentence only someone who had suffered a similar loss would understand as I lowered my head in mournful solidarity.
"After you lose someone or something you love more than anything nothing seems to scar anymore." She gave a nod in response. "I'm just sorry I couldn't have done more to help-"
"It's not your fault," she cut in softly.
"Neither is it yours." Dana turned to face me, somewhat taken back by my words. For the six months she had lived without a brother I had also lived without my sister. Her grief and pain was something I had also experienced. I had found a thousand ways to blame her death on myself. Every night I dreamt of a thousand ways I could have saved her until sleep was no longer an acquaintance of mine. Just like me I knew no words would resolve her guilt and take away the pain but I hoped to give her the one thing we couldn't give ourselves. To know that at least to the outside world, we were free of blame.
"I know this life isn't what you would have wanted.. Yet please know this." I turned to face her, my face stern and serious. "While I am the President of Panem you will always be protected, you and the future Victors to come. Never again will unprepared children like Ari or Tobias Elwood die in these Games." A small smile crept across her face as she turned to gaze out of the window again.
"You can't stop innocent children from being Reaped-"
"Not innocent but I can at least make sure the Tributes chosen can fight for themselves." I followed her gaze to a large group of colorful, feather adorned Capitolites who danced the waltz on the patio below. "This year all Volunteers are banned. The Tributes will be chosen by the Capitol elite who have decided to bet upon their victory. Their reputation rests on their chosen Tribute winning so I have faith that all Tributes or at least most chosen will have a good chance of making it home. So no, innocents I can't save but the unprepared and young, I can."
"You can't do that," she said with a sigh, turning to me with distant eyes. "The people down there would never allow it."
"Dear Dana," I said with a sharp smirk. "I'm Julus Snow, President of Panem. I could do whatever the hell I want."
For a year the Capitol elite have been watching the children of the District. Twenty-four rich Capitolites have chosen a child each to represent not only them but their District in the 126th Hunger Games.
No volunteers allowed.
Their reputation in their social circles rests on their Tribute doing well so most Tributes will be chosen because they are believed to have a good chance of winning.
Authors Note: This is my most recent SYOT. I have a prequel to this story about how Julius Snow and Dana got here called Golden Dagger. It's still in progress but no big spoilers will be in this story so feel free to read that as it updates.
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UNTIL NEXT TIME!