Aftermath
Jessalyn felt as if she was lying under a hundred tons, especially her head, which ached like mad. She slowly became aware of lying on a hard surface, made of some strange, unnatural material. Things were beeping and ticking around her. She blinked open her eyes, and immediately shut them as bright light hurt them. She tried again, this time only opening them a millimetre at a time, to allow them to adjust.
She was in a hospital. Capitol, from the modern furniture and plastic-y look. A dozen needles and tubes were plugged into her, and monitors measuring heartbeat, blood pressure, breathing were all attached. She was on a drip of clear liquid. Quickly she sat up, ripping out the needles and tubes. Instantly alarms went off and she collapsed back on the bed from the explosion of pain in her head.
Three doctors burst in and immediately forced the needles and tubes back into her. She tried to struggle as one went up her nose, but the doctors were far stronger and overpowered her. One, a woman with striped hair, gave her a perfect, sympathetic smile and shook a finger as her. 'Now, now, no trying to escape. You need medicine, and rest. Anyway, you're all safe now! Anything you want?'
'A visitor,' said Jessalyn. Her voice was raspy and her throat hurt. 'I want… to see my mentor.'
The woman nodded. 'I'll see what I can do!' Another doctor strapped her wrists and ankles down so she couldn't escape again, and they left the room. Jessalyn lay by herself for over an hour, just staring at the ceiling, thinking of nothing. Finally the door opened and she turned her head, but it wasn't Marlene Kelskilter or Grill Chief. It was President Lucien.
She was dressed in a neat, pale blue suit that perfectly matched her eyes. Her hair was in a twist on the back of her head. And every inch of her, from her regal posture to her pale blue high heels, shouted power. She looked Jessalyn over and sat down next to her bed. Jessalyn stared at her. 'What do you want?'
President Lucien raised an eyebrow. 'Shouldn't that be President Lucien?'
'Whatever. I'm not quite up to courtesies at the moment. Can I have a drink?' Lucien shrugged and got a cup of water. It tasted bitter and metallic, but Jessalyn tipped it down. 'Well, why are you here, President Lucien?'
Lucien smiled. 'That's better. Well, I guess we had better get right down to it. Do you know what happens to victors after they have won the games?'
'They become celebrities, get super rich and live in comfort until the end of their days,' replied Jessalyn in monotone.
'That is the outside. In reality, it is a lot different.' She leant forward slightly. 'In President Snow's time, the attractive ones were forced into prostitution. People pay a lot to have sex with a victor. Those that refused had their loved ones killed. Many turn to drugs or alcohol, in an attempt to block out unpleasant memories. No help or therapy is offered. Most end up living broken, lonely and sad lives.' She paused to take in Jessalyn's expression. She looked terrified. 'I want to change that.'
Jessalyn stared at Lucien in surprise. 'You see, I'm nearly forty. For the past fifteen years, I've been in the public eye as a politician, becoming President three years ago after Snow's death. I'm beautiful, respected, envied. But my earlier life wasn't like this. I grew up in the Capitol, but my parents weren't rich. I had to drop out of school at fourteen to work, something that usually only happens in the Districts. I worked twelve hours a day cleaning school floors and toilets for the girls I had been at school with. Minimum wage. Can you imagine? The teasing, the ridicule, underhand comments and giggles. One girl thought it highly funny to shove me into the dirty toilets whenever she saw me. When I was sixteen, a man told me I was beautiful. The first real compliment ever paid to me. And I guess I was. It was my sixteenth birthday, I was out clubbing, in my cousin's clothes. He bought me drinks, chatted. Found out about my family's financial situation. Said he could help me out.'
Jessalyn stared at her, totally engrossed. She'd never even heard an inkling of any of this. Why was Lucien telling her? Lucien didn't stop. 'He invited me back to his flat. I was naïve and he was charming, so I went. It was midwinter, by the way, and my family was desperate. Living in two rooms, with little or no heating, hot water or electricity. We hardly even had enough money to buy food. I guess you're used to that in the Districts, but for us it was the height of embarrassment. Anyway, the man and I were talking, and suddenly he kissed me. I was shocked, of course. But also excited. The man said he would give me money, lots of money, as long as I kissed him more, and let him touch me. So I took the money, and he kissed me, hard, and touched me. Only my breasts and bottom. Then he sent me home with the money, and told me to be back in the bar same time next week. I didn't tell my family what had happened, just said some rich stranger had taken a liking to me, which was sort of the truth.'
'And I went back to the bar. This time, we went further, and I got more money. I told my parents I had got a job as a waitress, and the money was tips. They didn't quite believe me, but the money meant we had enough to feed ourselves and keep my baby brother warm. Every weekend I would spend with the man. One time, he brought me back to the flat and I found other men there. They all took their turn and I brought back more money than every other time combined. The men introduced me to their friends and colleagues. Soon I had a dozen or so men after me. Suddenly I had money, lots of it. They bought me jewellery, clothes, a Chihuahua. I moved out of my parents' house and one bought me an upscale apartment. But I started drinking, taking drugs, a caught several STDs. When I woke up one morning in a complete stranger's bed with four men and a broken arm – one had got rough – I decided I had had enough. I had money saved up. I cleaned myself up and got a proper job, working for the secretary of Snow's secretary. Slowly, I worked myself up the ladder, finding I had a talent for politics. By the time I was twenty-five I was in the public image as a young, vibrant and interesting politician. By the time Snow died, I was the natural choice for President. And I was full of new ideas. I think, as many do, that the Hunger Games have become old and boring. I decided to completely change the Hunger Games. They would become the War Games, and be totally different. Still a competition for twelve to eighteen year olds, but they're in teams instead of small gangs or individuals. More kids depending on how big the Districts are. And it's all centred around War. There will be espionage, all out battles, teamwork of course. And all the kids don't have to die – bit depressing, don't you think? But for one team to win, it has to get complete surrenders from another team, or for them all to be dead. So most of the team could surrender, but then two tributes could break off and try and win themselves. The tributes that surrendered could join the other team, albeit in a very low rank.' Jessalyn could see Lucien becoming animated.
'I came into Presidency, and found myself surrounded by advisors, who tried their best to control me. And, for the past few years, have succeeded. I have little or no control over what happens in the Panem, I am merely a puppet. But I want to change that. I plan to get rid of all Snow's old counsellors and politicians and replace them with my own. And I want you to be one of them.'
Jessalyn stared at her in shock and surprise. 'Me – me? Seriously?' Lucien nodded. 'But I'm a fourteen-year-old girl!'
'A fourteen-year-old girl who has just survived the Hunger Games, including an arrow through the hand and a poisoned knife. You are hugely talented and resilient, as well as intelligent. You will be perfect.' She stood up and looked down at her. 'I want your answer by the end of the day. And you should get up. The Ceremony is in a few hours.'
'How long was I out?' asked Jessalyn as Lucien ripped off the arm straps and then the ankles.
'Three days. The poison was strong.' As she left the three doctors reappeared and slowly unattached her from the medicine and machines. They chattered at her but she stayed silent. The ceremony. She would have to watch the Games, every second, all the deaths, Skye's death. Skye! She pushed back a sob and jumped to her feet.
'Where are my things?' she asked. A doctor gave an annoying titter. 'Why would you want those? So dirty and damaged, we can-'
'GET MY THINGS!' screamed Jessalyn. The doctors gasped and scurried away, reappearing a moment later carrying a pile of filthy clothing on a plastic tray. She snatched it and started searching through the clothes. The doctors yelped and told her they could be carrying infection, they were too dirty, why would she want them, but she ignored them. As she was starting to give up, something slipped out of the coat, which was hardly more than rags. A blue crystal. She grabbed it and kissed it, tears pouring down her cheeks. The doctor with the striped her gently touched her arm.
'Come along dear, time to get you to your stylist.' Jessalyn nodded, staring at the crystal. It was in her left hand. She had just noticed the difference in her hand. The hole was gone, but the circle where it had been was slightly different to the rest of her hand – slightly harder and paler. Her hand wasn't as dextrous as before, especially her thumb, but she could still use it. She sighed and followed the doctors out the room.
A few hours later, she felt completely different. Her hair was soft and fell in loose, silky curls over her shoulders, framing her face. Some light makeup was applied – blusher, eyeshadow, some gloss on her lips. Her dress was long and figure hugging, to accentuate curves. Sadly the arena had robbed her of almost all curves, and her stylist had had to add padding. The dress itself was incredible. Not one colour, but a myriad of blues, silvers and greens that shifted and caught the light, perfectly reflecting the sea. She looked a million dollars.
'You look beautiful!' squealed the prep team as she inspected herself in a mirror. She felt nothing. She wore a necklace of sapphires, but on her wrist she insisted she had the blue crystal, on a silver chain. The stylist had put up a fight but she was stubborn. In the end he gave up. When he had decided she was ready, he led her through some corridors to a dank, mouldy place that had to be beneath the stage, from the amount of noise above their heads.
Marlene Kelskilter met them there. She looked Jessalyn over and nodded her approval, eyes lingering slightly on the blue crystal. 'Well done,' she said curtly. Then she was gone, Jessalyn was alone with only the mouldy smell and shouts above her head. Claustrophobia closed in on her and she felt dizzy, but managed not to faint. It wouldn't be good if she was carried up unconscious.
Caesar Flickerman was introducing people – prep team, stylists, Marlene. Then the plate was carrying Jessalyn up, she appeared on the stage in a deafening wave of cheers, applause and stamping. Caesar Flickerman was seated upon a chair, a huge smile on his face as dozens of camera bulbs flashed in her face. She managed not to flinch and sat down opposite him. He gave a her a wide, perfect smile, which she didn't quite return.
'Jessalyn Redway!' he boomed as the crowds quietened. 'What can I say – what a Games! Where shall we start?'
'At the beginning?' replied Jessalyn, managing a small smile this time. Caesar laughed and nodded.
'Of course. So, right to the beginning, you had an unusual upbringing, didn't you?'
'Yes. My parents died, but I was adopted by the Redways,' she replied clearly. 'It was expected for us to go into the Games at eighteen, once Pater had … prepared us. But I broke tradition slightly and got Reaped. I think I've annoyed a couple of siblings!'
'Yes. Then of course the training, and that chariot ride – those costumes!' exclaimed Caesar. 'I confess to feeling a tad jealous!' the audience laughed and playfully booed and cheered him. He laughed and continued. 'And that training score – second only to Miss Blacilla!' Jessalyn was impressed how he didn't flinch or look disgusted at the thought of her. The interview continued on – focusing on her, with the occasional view of another prominent tribute – Jayson or Cleo maybe, or Diesel. She struggled to keep her face even when Skye appeared on screen, laughing at some joke.
There was a detailed part of the arena, especially the bloodbath. Jessalyn suspected they'd played with the sound and visuals slightly. The crack as Hareld's neck snapped echoed throughout the massive hall, the spray of blood from Jenna's neck seemed to splatter everything and was much too red. The agonised cry as Ginevra was crushed to death by her own ribs could be felt by all.
They looked at all the deaths, and the most interesting parts – there was a large amount of Lottie, eating live animals, whispering to herself and ripping tributes half apart. Also the Careers, arguing and killing and dominating the scene. Everyone watched with rapt attention, letting out a sorrowful sigh as Odio, unable to live without his twin, committed suicide. And as Sephiria threw herself in front of Scott.
When it concentrated on her and Skye, Jessalyn felt her throat close up, like there was a gigantic rock shoved down it. She held it together for most of the shots of them working together. But as she watched their last goodbye, a tear broke loose and slid down her cheek. And when she saw herself find his mangled body and let out that agonised, grief-stricken howl, she couldn't control herself any longer and broke down in tears.
Caesar made a signal and the film was paused. He turned to her, a compassionate expression on his face. 'You loved him, didn't you?' Jessalyn nodded quietly.
'But, if he was marked for death, I'm glad we had our time together. I'm glad that, for a short while, I knew him and loved him.'
'He was a great young man,' replied Caesar respectfully.
Jessalyn hardly saw the rest of the interview, it seemed to pass in a blur. Suddenly Sparkle was dying, then Jayson, and then the living corpses were closing in while she and Cleo grappled on the ground. As the mangled, torn body of Skye reached out and touched Cleo's face, she suddenly realised something. Skye, whether meant or not, had reached out beyond the grave and saved her life one last time, giving her the distraction she needed to kill Cleo.
Then Caesar was bowing to her and holding her hand up to show her off to all of Panem, and she was being led through passageways with her gaggle of doctors and Marlene Kelskilter, she was being told a dozen things at once but wasn't listening. She only noticed when the group around her fell silent. President Lucien was walking towards her.
'So, Miss Redway, do you have your answer for me?' she asked, raising an eyebrow. Marlene gave Jessalyn a look, obviously confused. Jessalyn lifted her chin and stared Lucien right in the eye. With heels on, she was the same height.
'Yes. I will take your offer. But – I want to spend the summer, and another three months of the year, in District Four. It is my homeland, and I will not just leave it,' she replied. 'I will not be controlled, nor will any of my family be hurt if you do not like something I do.'
'Fine,' Lucien held out her hand, and Jessalyn shook it. 'You may go home for a week or two, to sort things out, but I would like you back soon. There is much to sort out.' Then she brushed past and was gone, and the group bustled around her again, firing questions, though this time about Lucien and what on earth was going on.
O
Jessalyn got on the train for District Four the next morning. It was exactly the same as when she had travelled to the Capitol. She felt like a zombie as she showered, braided her hair back and changed her clothes. Then, she didn't know why, she left her bedroom, went one door along, and entered Skye's old room.
It looked the same as how he'd left it. She climbed onto the bed and lay down. The sheets hadn't even be changed – she buried her head in them, surrounding herself in his scent. She lay there, curled up, tears drying on her face, until the train pulled into the station at District Four.
Pater and all his "children" were waiting for her as she stepped off the train. Jessalyn was surprised when, in a sudden burst of unexpected emotion, Lisbeth ran forward and hugged her. She smiled and gently brushed her hand through her soft hair as a dozen cameras went crazy around them. Then it clicked – of course Lisbeth wouldn't hug her like that of her own accord, it was all for the cameras. She gently pushed her little – she couldn't call her baby – sister away and walked towards Pater, who was doing his best fatherly smile.
'Well done,' he said, his eyes still looking cold and emotionless. 'I look forward to having another helper.' Jessalyn glanced at Sharkey, who was giving her a sharp-toothed smile, and understood.
'Actually,' she replied, stepping away, 'President Lucien has given me a job in the Capitol. I am her new Junior Assistant and Advisor.' Allowing her family to process this new knowledge- it hadn't been announced to the public yet – she turned and marched to the car, which was waiting to take her back to her old home. And as she lay back against the plush leather seats, she couldn't help smiling. In one aspect of her life at least, she was free.
IT'S OVER! I feel a little emotional :'(
But as one story ends, another is only beginning! Christ that sounds cliché. Anyway, what I mean is I have another story, the War Games, that I'm just starting, have a look at it. But I hope you enjoyed this story!
