Disclaimer: The Hunger Games and its characters are all property of Suzanne Collins. No profit is being made from this piece of work. No copyright infringement is intended.
5
Britney stands there at the doorway, tears falling silently down her pale cheeks. I stare at her from my seat, feeling as though I will never be able to move again. I have no idea what is going on but the gnawing feeling in my chest tells me I've been betrayed.
We stay like this for a few seconds, the three of us in total silence. Nobody knows what to say; Britney is too busy crying, and Plutarch is still staring at his feet. I still want him to feel ashamed. I wish he would just stop this madness, tear apart the contract he now holds firmly in his hand, and let things go back to normal. I'm scared that, if I speak, I will throw up.
Eventually Britney takes in a shaky breath, "I'm sorry," she says again. "I had no choice," she continues.
Britney has betrayed me. That much is clear. My mind is slowly piecing together everything that has gone on over the past couple of months but something else is distracting it. I've heard people say that when you die your life flashes before your eyes. My mother was a firm believer in it. She often told me that the last thing she would see would be me. I try not to dwell on that bit too much.
I'm not dying, but whatever I have with Britney is, and it's like our relationship is flashing before my eyes. I get grainy pictures; the pair of us curled up on the sofa drinking the tea her mother had taught her to make, a recipe from Tribe 3; all the times we went out to dinner and just talked; how I felt with I realized I could really connect with her; how she held me after my nightmares; how she felt curled up in my arms every night.
Her next words shock me out of my reverie. "They have my brother."
Britney has never mentioned a brother of hers but even that small sentence makes sense. She's never took me to her home before. She's never so much as mentioned me meeting her parents. Even Plutarch's reaction to the newspaper reporting mine and Britney's relationship makes sense. Of course he wouldn't be angry or panicked by it like Juxton was. It had been what he had wanted.
"What do you mean?" I ask, choked.
"They were going to hurt him," she whispers, trying to hold back the tears. "They said if I didn't get you to agree they would hurt him. I had to, I'm so sorry."
"Who?" I ask brokenly, "How?" I want to ask who did this and how long it has been going on for but the ache in my chest and the feeling in my gut are telling me I already know the answers.
Instinctively, Britney casts a glance to Plutarch who is looking up at me now as if calculating my next move. He must have guessed right because as soon as I push off my chair to get to him, a soldier comes through the door and grabs hold of me. He seizes me in the all too familiar way of holding my arms behind my back.
"We had to get you to agree to this, Fin," he says.
"Why?" I scream. "Why couldn't you do your dirty work for yourself?" I feel as though I am losing control over my life and I can't stand it.
Whatever I have said makes Plutarch reflect for a moment before he strides over to me, staring me in the face. It's frustrating because I can't reach out and punch him. I don't spit in his face or struggle – I learned my lesson from last time – but I feel my hands tremble with temptation.
"We have to win the public over, Fin," Plutarch says, his breath washing over my face he is so close. "And only you, the child of two victors, can do it. Or you get executed. It's as simple as that." He waves the contract in my face as a painful reminder. "Britney was in this all along," Plutarch goes on. "Now you can forget all about her. None of it was real."
That last part is like a punch in the gut. Instead of being physically winded, however, the fight leaves me and I slump defeated in the soldier's hold.
"I am sorry, Fin," Britney says. "They were going to hurt my brother."
"Yes, look on the bright side," Plutarch says. "At least you saved one little life." The unrecognizable emotion crosses Plutarch's face again but I don't even care enough to contemplate it anymore.
I don't know how old Britney's brother is nor do I want to ask. I close my eyes, not wanting to even see her anymore. I think she takes the hint and when I open them again after hearing the door close, she is gone. I am left with Plutarch and the soldier.
"Well, now that that's over we might as well get introductions out of the way," Plutarch says almost brightly.
The soldier releases me and it takes all my effort not to slump to the floor and cry. A few weeks ago I would have cried but signing that paper has hardened something inside of me. To cry would be to look weak and that's not something I can afford right now.
"Fin Odair, meet General Gale Hawthorne. He's the leader of your military team," Plutarch says. I look up to meet the aged gray eyes of a man who has seen a lot of pain. You can tell by the way his features have been weathered; a scar running down the left side of his face, cutting through his eye tells me he's half blind. Yet I still know he could kill me in an instant. He wouldn't have become General for nothing.
I nod at the older man, noticing his hair is still a dark brown. I almost smile at that, even if it's not done on purpose he doesn't seem the type of man to follow the gray trend of the Capitol. That's probably why he also refused to replace his useless eye with a man-made working one.
"District 2?" I guess. It's where most of the military comes from. I once asked Nurse Everdeen if it was natural for people to be born war-ready in that District. She didn't answer.
"Originally District 12," General Hawthorne replies taking no offense at all.
Already he has my respect. Even after twenty years, people are still reluctant to move from their birth places. Part of me hopes I get his respect for moving from my home District to the Capitol. Still, my move meant I was living in a land of luxury. His move meant he was going into a world of training and work. I feel like a wimp standing next to him.
"Medicine," I state, trying to say anything to fill the silence, to take my mind of Britney. The ache of betrayal in my chest is still there and I long for nothing more than to go home and breakdown.
General Hawthorne nods but doesn't offer anything more. Luckily, Plutarch chooses that moment to intervene.
"Well, we need to report to President Paylor now. No rest for the wicked, eh?" he jokes. But to me he is simply stating the truth.
President Paylor accepts my agreement with the same grim expression she wore last time I saw her. I expect her to be as happy with it as Plutarch is. But something in her cold eyes unnerves me. I have a horrible feeling she expected me to do something else, to stand up to it all. I push that feeling aside, telling myself over and over that it can't be right. After all, this is what Paylor wants.
No, I correct myself, this is what the country needs. Paylor believes she is acting in the best interests of her people. I now believe that she really thinks she doesn't have a choice.
Two more guards are waiting in the same office I had sat in three weeks ago. I vaguely recognize them as the same two who were there. One of them gives me a sly smile; I have a feeling he was the one who knocked me out.
"Glad to see you've decided to join us," Paylor tells me as soon as I'm seated with the two guards on either side of me. She doesn't look glad though; her expression remains impassive. "Arrangements have been made for you to leave Panem in two weeks to travel round the Tribes."
I take in a deep breath. The thought of leaving Panem terrifies me so much that I grip the arms of my chair, my knuckles turning white.
"Do you have any questions?" she finishes after explaining that I will speak to the Tribe's people and present the Games in a positive manner.
"Yes," I say, surprising myself. "I would like to see my family before I go."
"You don't have any family," Plutarch cuts in hurriedly.
"Yes I do," I say defensively. "Nurse Everdeen is back home in District 4 and I would like to see her before I go."
"I don't think that's a good idea," Plutarch says but Paylor cuts him off.
"Be quiet, Heavensbee," she snaps. "Fin is already doing enough for us. The least we can do is let him see this woman before he leaves for a month."
I feel my stomach flip with nerves as I hear how long I will be away. Still, at least it will offer some distraction from Britney and what she's done.
"You will leave for District 4 tomorrow and return in one week to prepare," Paylor tells me. "General Hawthorne will accompany you at all times."
I'm about to protest but General Hawthorne speaks up, "Very well, ma'am."
I sigh and look up at the golden ceiling with the large chandelier reflecting the light across the room. All of a sudden I feel as if everybody is in control of my life except me.
(*)
Nurse Everdeen is both shocked and pleased to see me when I turn up at her doorstep. She envelopes me in a hug before I've even put my bag down. I hug her back tightly, relieved to finally get off the train – where the fifteen-hour ride had been spent in uncomfortable silence with the General – and to see her again after so long.
"I missed you too," I say. "But there's somebody I need you to meet." I step to the side and let General Hawthorne through the doorway. But as soon as the pair lock eyes I know there's no need to introduce anybody to anybody. They know each other, much to my surprise.
Nurse Everdeen's soft and welcoming face hardens as she sees the younger man and she turns to me as she says, "Fin, you've got a lot of explaining to do."
We sit round the fire in the living area. The sun has dipped so low that it casts orange shadows along the living room through the high criss-crossed windows which look out onto the sea. The fire crackles comfortably as the three of us nurse mugs of coffee.
I've told Nurse Everdeen everything. From how the Capitol tricked me to what I've agreed to represent. She listens, her eyes closed. I don't know whether it's her way of taking everything in or if she's too disappointed in me to even look me in the eye.
"I have to leave in one week," I tell her. "I'm travelling around the Tribes promoting the…Games."
Her head falls into her hands and General Hawthorne watches her. He's too professional to show any sign of emotion but, just for a moment, I think I see a flicker of sympathy cross his hard gray eyes.
"How do you know each other?" I demand suddenly.
For the past hour, all the attention has revolved around me. Both General Hawthorne and Nurse Everdeen have kept their eyes fixed on me or other parts of the room. They refuse to look at each other, even though I feel as if I'm intruding to ask, I can't stand the thought of walking on egg shells round the two of them for the next five week. I need to know what's going on.
"Nurse Everdeen and I knew each other back in District 12," General Hawthorne volunteers information as Nurse Everdeen looks painfully out of the windows. "My family were close to her family."
I pick up on the past tense and decide to drop the topic entirely. The last thing I need is to get involved with other people's problems. I've got enough of my own at the moment.
"Never mind us," Nurse Everdeen says, waving her hand dismissively. "What about you, Fin? Do you have any idea what you've done?"
The shame and disappointment in her voice is evident. I hang my head, ashamed to even meet her eyes. She's right; I still don't really have any idea what I've done. All I know of the Hunger Games, I have learned in school. I've never had firsthand experience of the Games. Not like Nurse Everdeen. She would have watched children dying on her television years ago. She didn't like talking about the Games so I didn't dwell on them too much when I was around her. But her reaction has me wondering whether there was a more personal issue with it all. Did she have a friend she lost? Or, heaven forbid, a child?
"There's nothing I can do," I say quietly.
"Now you're sounding like the Capitol," Nurse Everdeen tells me, adopting the stern voice I had heard so often as a child. "There's always a choice."
She looks at General Hawthorne then, her mouth thinning out into a line before she rises from her seat and walks into the kitchen. I stare after her, contemplating what to do.
"Leave her," the General makes my decision for me. "She needs some time to digest it all."
"How can you do this?" I ask him. "If you knew her so well, how can you…?"
"I'm not the one who signed the papers," General Hawthorne tells me.
"They would have found somebody else to present them if I'd refused," I say defensively. "It was only a matter of time and even if they couldn't have found somebody else they would have gone ahead with it anyway."
"So why is it better that you represent them?" he asks. "Do you have some secret plan up your sleeve that I don't know about?" His hand brushes ever so slightly over the gun in his belt. He had kept it covered in front of Nurse Everdeen by his thick green military coat but now he made sure I could see it at all times.
"One thing the war didn't do," he continues, "Was stop people from the Capitol being sick and greedy bastards."
Not being able to stand being in the same room as him anymore, I rise and walk out onto the deck outside which overlooks the beach. We have a pier that runs high above the beach and over the sea so you can jump into the water from it. I think about it. I think about jumping into the blue and swimming without stopping.
But I know the General is watching me through the windows. I can feel his eyes bearing into the back of my neck. I feel trapped.
"My youngest daughter was picked for the Hunger Games you know," Nurse Everdeen says. I am startled at the sound of her voice behind me. Turning round, I come face to face with her sad and aged expression. Behind her I can see him watching me, his cold eyes narrowed suspiciously.
"I'm sorry," I say because, having never heard Nurse Everdeen talk about having any children, I assume her daughter was killed.
"Her older sister stepped up for her," Nurse Everdeen smiles sadly.
"Oh," is all I say to that. It's all I can think of to say.
"She didn't die," Nurse Everdeen continues, her voice strangely numb. "She won." Whilst she had been talking, she had been keeping her eyes on the sea beyond the beach. Now she turns to me, "Haven't you heard of Katniss Everdeen?"
I hear myself gasp and stumble back.
Of course I have heard of Katniss Everdeen. She was the Mockingjay, the leader of the revolution who went mad and was sentenced to life in District 12. I remember hearing the surname and rushing home to tell Nurse Everdeen. She had told me she didn't have children, that it must be a coincidence.
"You never said," I whisper.
"I tried to forget," she admits quietly.
"What about your youngest daughter?" I ask. "Where is she now?"
She doesn't answer but takes in a shaky breath before turning to face me full on. "The Games ruined my life, Fin, just remember that." And she walks away from me, back into the kitchen.
I lean over the wooden railing of the deck and stare down at the white grains of sand far below me. I think of my mother. I think of how ashamed she would be if she were here now. Just the thought of what I have already done would probably send her even crazier.
For the first time ever, I'm glad she is dead.