The next day passes so slowly I catch myself actually watching the clock in the corner. I was ready to beg for something to knock me out, just so I could spend the time in blissful unawareness. At some point, Maraine comes back, assessing me to see what she should be dressing me in, but I tune out most of it, not really caring whether she dresses me in puffy pink feathers at this point.
I'm the victor (one of the victors) of the Hunger Games, I have survived hell, I'm above pettiness over a dress. But finally the moment comes when I'm released.
Maraine ushers me into a white room and almost immediately her three assistants rush toward me, yanking me toward the mirrored left wall. A comb is suddenly through my hair, brushing out any tangles I may have accumulated during my three days of purgatory. My face is wiped down and then made up again with various powders and creams from different pots.
It surprises me how little any of this superficiality I care about now. Before, how I looked affected how many sponsors I'd get, which affected how I'd do in the arena. But now, now I don't give a shit about any of it. I had won and no one could take that away from me.
But I have to admit, the finished result isn't bad. In fact, it might the best look she's created for me yet. The dress I'm wearing (of course it has to be a dress, anything else would be a travesty) is made of green silk, the deepest forest green, a color Maraine picked, I'm sure, because it matches my eyes almost exactly, that reaches only a little past my knees. My eyelids are painted with a creamy eyeshadow and mascara, and my lips are painted with a light pink sheen. My long dark brown hair's left to fall wherever it may.
All of my physical imperfections, scars mostly, are covered with whatever magic makeup Maraine decided to have the makeup technicians use on me. Yet despite the makeup, this is the first outfit Maraine's chosen for me that makes me look like…myself. Not like some façade created for an event, a spectacle to be witnessed and discussed. Just a person. Just me.
"Thank you". It's an unusual thing for me to say, I can count on one hand the number of times I've said it in my life, and I can tell that Maraine knows that. I just want her to know that I appreciate not being made a show of. She nods. "You're welcome". She looks me up and down and grabs a pair of black strappy shoes with tiny heels and slips them onto my feet.
"There. Quite near perfect, or as close to it as we could get with you". I roll my eyes at her and slowly make my way to the door, unused to heels as I am.
We make our way to the set, and I wait on the side to be announced. Caesar Flickerman, blue hair shining with glitter, smiles his unnaturally white smile and says, "And now, ladies and gentlemen, I give you the victors of the Seventy-Fourth Hunger Games, Clove Chaterly and Cato Helamor!" I walk out onto the stage, and as I do, I see Cato approaching from the opposite side.
I nearly stop moving across the stage. I knew in my subconscious that I was going to be seeing him again now, but I didn't really think about the reality of that. He's dressed in a white suit with green accents the same color as mine. I suppose, now that we're victors together, it suits us better to match.
"Here they are, folks!" Caesar hollers, as the crowd applauds and shouts in excitement. I sit down on one of the two cushy chairs settled across from Caesar's, unsteadily and Cato takes the one next to mine. He smiles somewhat tentatively at me and I smile somewhat tentatively back.
And then the complete recap starts. I see all of the important points of the games, watch myself on the screen, but I feel removed, like it's just another Hunger Games and I'm just another spectator. Like it's not really me up there, being broadcast to all of Panem. But it is, and it's not until I see Marvel getting killed by Katniss that it begins to feel real.
From that point on, my eyes are fixed to the screen. I watch as the Feast plays out again, as I nearly die. I witness the deaths of Thresh, Five, Loverboy, and Katniss. It's surreal watching my life as though it were a form of entertainment. In fact, the only that I don't watch happen again, is Cato's and my kiss.
It almost makes me laugh that the one thing the Capitol really would have eaten up about us, they didn't even know ever happened. But that's more than fine with me. I know that the Capitol would much have preferred it if District 12 had won. After all, those two were their beloved star-crossed lovers, the ones that the Capitol had been in love with from the beginning. In fact, I'm surprised they're applauding us at all. We should be hated by them, we killed the two that everyone wanted to win. I think our only redeeming quality in their eyes was that we nearly died to save each other.
We watch that too, and then it's over. Three weeks of my life in just a few hours, though it felt more like three years. Amazing how the deaths of people that I got to know seem so inconsequential to the rest of the world, but how they seem like such large moments in my life.
I remember every death I caused, every person who's death I witnessed. Not with regret, I don't regret killing them. But with the feeling that it should matter more than it does to these people, because I know that I will remember those three weeks exactly in my mind for the rest of my life.
We answer a few more questions from Caesar when it's over, but I tune out for most of it. I'm not really in the mood for the ever jovial Capitol attitude. It's not until the final question that I get beyond yes's and no's and actually answer. "So tell me, why was it that the two of you decided you'd rather die than kill the other?" I lift my eyes up, and face him straight on, my eyes locking onto his, so that he knows I mean exactly what I say.
"Because it wouldn't have been worth it". I know that if I had killed Cato back in that arena, then it would have haunted me forever. The ghosts in my mind would never leave me alone, staying with me, like they stay with some of the other victors. The one's who are so lost in their despair that they can never come back out of it, turning to drinking or morphling to try to cure something that can never be fixed.
My response seems to throw Caesar for a moment, but like the television professional he is, he quickly bounces back. "Well, there you have it folks- the bond of true friendship is stronger than anything. Unfortunately, that's all we have time for right now, so let's say goodbye to Cato and Clove!" Caesar smiles his huge white smile, and we rise and make our way off the stage.
Maraine and another familiar face approach us. Alyssinia Rettwin, wobbly as ever on her heels, tentatively started speaking. "Our train leaves soon, we ought to be going. You can change on the train if you'd like". I snort. "Obviously, we do". But I can't muster up my usual contempt for Alyssinia. I'm too mixed up inside.
We go to the train station, boarding the sleek silver train that will take us home. I say goodbye to Maraine, sparing her a smile as I leave. Cato disappears, presumably to go change and I do the same, grabbing a pair of soft velvety green pants and a black shirt, slipping off my high heels to go barefoot. And then I go to find him.
He's standing at the very back of the train, at the window that faces the shining city of the Capitol. The train starts to move, slowly and then building speed, the Capitol slowly fading into the distance. "So", Cato says. "So", I say. "It's really all over". "Yeah. It really is". I come and stand next to him at the window, watch it all disappear.
"What do we do now?" I ask. "We live", he says. And then he kisses me and we go away from the past, toward the future.
