Chapter Twelve
Sorry I haven't written in a while. Lots of you have been asking for more killing, though personally I don't think that's really Annie's character. Please, If you would just wait, the next chapter will have more killing. Thank you for reading this fanfiction. Also, I have two loyal readers who would love for you to read their fanfiction, for if you liked mine, you'll like ilovedoodle's and AbbyMellark21's fanfiction too.
As we pull apart I hear a soft splashing but I ignore it. His hand is still on my cheek. His eyes look into mine and I smile, biting my lip. I just kissed Chris, my best friend in the entire world. He's like a brother to me. Is it wierd that I kissed him? Absolutely most defiantly. But I have a strange glow inside that makes me wonder if I liked it more than I should. After all, the small voice in the back of my head keeps saying 'finally. You should have done this years ago.'
The splashing sounds again and I look towards the lake to see a parashoot almost silently moving towards us.
I grin, scooping it out and opening it quickly. Inside is a pot of cream and some bandages. I pull out a slip of paper. "Close to believing it myself. Now wink to assure me it's not true - F"
I look to the floor and then look up to the sky and wink. But then I look back at Chris and I'm filled with doubt and confusion all over again.
I push the thoughts of the kiss to the back of my mind and turn back to the parashoot. I open the small silver pot to find some gel which I guess to be medicine. I take Chris's hand and gently massage it into his cuts. He doesn't flinch. He just watched my face with a small smile, his ocean blue eyes misted with thought. Using the bandages I wrap it around his cut a few times. I find a sharp stone to cut away the excess bandage and place it in the chest pocket for safe keeping.
"Two parashoots so far," I say.
"We must be popular," Chris grins back. I know we're popular. The capital showed us that in our interviews and on the night of the chariots parade. Its because we have romance. Love in a career pack is strange. Doesn't quite match. And they must know that there's more to our story than we're letting on. Its not like we haven't hinted enough.
I stand and offer him a hand, which he excepts, and I pull him to his feet. I keep his bandages hand in mine and lead him back to the cornucopia.
Marla is sitting in the corner, a sulky expression on her face. She glares at Chris who smiles cheerily back. Something or someone has miraculously calmed him down.
Tiger has a smirk on his face, though this is not new. He seems spiteful and cruel and overly pleased that Marla's plan failed. I hate the two of them, more than one can imagine.
I sit by the deer and pull out the knife. "You don't have to do that," Vine begins.
"I know. But I will. Someone find me something to put the guts in. Ready to take to a hole to bury or something," I instruct and she nods. She pulls on Butch's arm and leads him away to search for anything.
I slice open his stomach and open it up, grimacing at the view. I can see it all, the lungs, the heart, the liver, the stomach, all the colour of raw meat, all surrounded by blood. I bite my lip. There is only one way to do this.
Reminding myself that this is a deer, not a tribute I take hold of the heart with my bare hands and begin slicing away. I gulp. I want to screw up my eyes and look away but if I do I could cut myself. I resist the urge to throw up and move to the lungs, then the kidneys, then the stomach.
A hand is placed on my shoulder. I look around. "Want me to carry on?"
I shake my head. "Not with your hand like that. I'll continue," I say.
Chris sits down besides me for support. My hands are now covered in blood and I'm breathing quickly to restrain from bursting into tears. I'm on the last organ now. I look at Chris who looks deep into my eyes. He channels his faith. I can tell my the look in his eyes that he's remembering the kiss. He smiles slightly and I blush. But his faith has given me strength. I cut through the last organ and pull out the ribs. After I've skinned it I cut up the meat, putting the rest in a thermal sheet for safe keeping. Then I wash off the blood... And throw up behind a bush.
"How many months?" a voice says behind me.
I spin around and find myself face to face with Vine. She must have returned recently. "Excuse me?" is all I can manage.
"How many months have you been pregnant?" she asks again.
"I..." Theres no point pretending. "I'm not sure," I say.
"Does Chris know?" she asks.
"Yes. Yes he does," I say. I pause. "You're not going to kill us are you?"
"No. And I won't tell Marla or Tiger either. I'll keep it secret... But I think now is the time to revisit our conversation about allies. Are you sure you want to refuse?"
At that moment I begin throwing up all over again. She moves closer to keep my hair out if my way. She laughs. "He isn't going to be an easy baby, is he?"
"No," I whisper.
Finally when I'm done I walk down to the river and rinse out my mouth. I collapse by the water. Its exhausting, throwing up food I haven't actually eaten. Vine sits next to me. "What's it like?"
"Huh?"
"District 4. The sea and swimming and stuff?" She asks, staring out at the lake.
I smile slightly. "Amazing. It shimmers and glitters as the sun shines on it. It brings up gifts too. Pearls and coral, belonging from shipwrecks. Usually when people get married, they celebrate by dropping a bottle into the sea. It has a message inside, with the two people's names. Its tradition," I sigh at the memory.
"What about swimming?" Vine asks, a look of content on her face.
"Its... unexplainable. You glide through the salty water like you're one of the fishes, and its so right. Chris and I once went diving by the coral reef. That was something I'll never forget," I say, smiling at the memory. It was stunning. I wanted to turn mermaid and stay there forever but I knew I'd have to come up for air soon.
"I wish I could swim," Vine says.
"You can't swim?" I gasp. "Funnily enough, no-one outside District 4 can swim. In district 1 there are no pools or any seas. Not that we have access to," she says. "Its like, you've never been in a woods have you?"
I look at the thick forest, beautiful but deadly and shake my head. "Never even seen one."
"Exactly. I hear District 12 have woods though. They're dangerous, but they still have them."
"District 1, what's that like?" I ask. I remember Chris's curiosity about the other districts and all of a sudden I can't help myself.
"All sparkly and shiny. They have workshops for elaborate furniture or jewellery. But if you ask if any of us own one single jewel for ourselves, you'll find no one who says yes. They're beaten up if they are found to own one," she says. The excitement is clear on her face; obviously Vine loves drama.
"Beaten for owning your own handy work?" I gasp.
"Sure. You can't possibly be telling me that anything the tide washes up you can keep, even though the Capital could find a way to make money from it? Pearls, even coral would be valuable to the Capital."
"Well, belongings from shipwrecks can be used again. Recycling, we call it. Coral is hardly worth much, and honestly, most of us used them for jewellery which we sell to the Capital eventually anyway, and as for pearls, they're very rare. No one would believe you if you said you had one, well, no one that matters anyway," I say, and then bite my tongue, afraid that the Capital now knows something they shouldn't. I pray silently that no one is treated badly due to my unthoughtful thinking.
"Coral," she says suddenly.
"What?"
"Corals a beautiful name. Perfect for your baby if it's a girl. Especially if it has beautiful red hair," she says.
The mention of red hair makes me inhale. Did she know? "Why would my baby be red-headed? Neither of us are red heads," I say, swiftly adding, "besides Chris's father."
Better. No one will question that. Mr Rif's hair is grey, so no one will be able to think otherwise. The connections with Finnick's bronze coloured hair.
"I don't know. An instinct, maybe? So what do you think?"
"I don't know. We have to make it out of here alive first," I say gently, rubbing one hand over my belly.
"Or Pearl. That's pretty too," she says quietly, almost as though she's talking to herself.
"Which is your favourite?" I ask.
"Coral," she says thoughtfully. "I'd use that one. or you could call her Coral Pearl."
"I'll think about it," I say with a smile. Maybe Vine isn't so bad after all.
"Suppose you have to talk to Chris first," she says.
I nod quietly. Sure, let her think that. Its Finnick I'd be asking. But asking myself what I'd like to call my unborn child is not top on my priority list right now. Getting to attached is not wise. Distance is safest in every way. Distance from the love I already feel for my baby, distance from the easy to like Vine, distance from the Career pack with is the biggest danger right now, and distance from Chris. But I'm about as close as I can get to the Careers, seeing as I am one, and Chris, its impossible to even imagine being without him. Still the idea of our destined separation plays on my mind. How am I expected to live without him? It will be easier for me if I except defeat and die anyway, but I can't for my Childs sake. Its a vicious circle, like a whirl pool off the coast of District 4, and every day I am being sucked in deeper, drowning in my fear and sorrow. What will mopping do to save me? Nothing, but there's no way around it. Suffer mental pain or die. They are my options.
Do I even want my child to be born into this corrupt world, where children are forced to fight to the death, and starve and suffer in almost every way possible? Do I want my child being bought but by a victor, a woman who managed to kill children herself? What says that I will restrain from killing my child in a fit of terror as I flash back to the arena like Finnick does so very often? It's all he can do to put as much distance as my bedroom can give between us, so that he have little chance of hurting me. Will I be able to handle myself like that?
I hastily remind myself that I only need to worry about surviving, and then I can think about the deeper questions for my Childs safety. Other victors have managed, I will too, but first I have to become a victor, which means becoming a murderer. And losing Chris, a fact I will never overcome. Even if it means losing, being eaten by mutts, I will not purposefully separate from Chris. Unless one of us dies, we shall spend every waking minute together. Starting now.
I stand up. "Sorry. I have to get back to Chris. You coming?" I ask, trying to compose myself from my deep thought.
"Sure," she says, standing up. "Don't worry, I won't tell a soul. You're secrets safe with me... for now. As for our aliance?" she asks.
"You're on. Right now I need all the help I can get. But that means Chris too. We come as a pair too you know," I warn.
"Absolutely." She sighs, pitifully. "You know, I think we could have been great friends. I'd have liked that." Then linking her arm though mine she pulls me back to the cornucopia.
I am shocked for a moment, and I'm sure it shows on my face, but as long as I don't become too attached, a new friendship won't hurt, will it? Every instinct in my body tells me that, yes, it will hurt very much, but I don't care. Already in the games I crave my grandmothers loving care, and if Vine's bubbly character is they key to that then I'll find a way to survive the pain. I will do what it takes.
At the cornucopia she let's go of my arm and looses the smile so easily that I wonder if she's just an actor, and if this whole friendship is just an act to gain my trust. But no, it can't be. I make a promise to myself to enjoy her company but not to give up myself to her, to not let the wall I've built fall, for both Chris, myself and my baby, for our sakes.
Rounding the corner I resume my position by Chris. They pass me some well cooked deer, and Vine gets a little more rare piece. I screw up my nose, the memory of the guts bringing a lump to my throat. Chris looks at me expectantly, refusing to take it back, and I see there's no way around it but to eat it.
"She doesn't have to eat it. I'll have it instead," Tigre says, but Chris shoots him a glare and he backs off.
"She'll eat it, given a chance," he says.
I take the smallest bite, thinking of images other than the deers bloody heart, and soon discover just how hungry I am. When Marla and Tigre aren't looking, Vine passes me the other half of hers. I frown, but Chris seems to have no problem in excepting. He takes it, cooking it for a few more minutes (overly cautious about food poisoning) and then passes it to me, giving me the look so that I can't decline.
I decide not to grumble, as Gran wouldn't be impressed. I'm in the games where twenty-four tributes are starving and I'm turning down extra food. If the other tributes knew that they'd probably kill me themselves.
After our late breakfast comes the matter of what the hell to actually do with ourselves. We have no cards, no means of entertainment, nothing to busy ourselves with. We just sit around, sharpening our weapons, wondering how long we have left before the game ends and one if us becomes the winner. I know that, despite our differences, we are all bored stiff, feeling like we could bang our heads against the cornucopia walls any time now. I would do anything, anything would be better than this. Finally I can stand it no more. I jump to my feet and pull Chris up to, grabbing my weapons and passing Chris his. I even shoot a questioning look at Vine, who nods and stands.
"Where are you three going?" Marla asks.
"Hunting," I say, pausing to turn to the others. "Its got to be better than this."
"Butch?" Vine questions.
"Sure, why not?" Butch sighs, scrambling to his feet and taking his weapons too.
"Marla? Tigre?" Chris asks, a look of indifference in his face.
"No thank you," Tigre purrs. "We'll keep guard." More like discuss the bunch of us. Not that I mind. I'd rather be away from them than with them.
I'm not sure how I feel about Butch coming. He seems undecided about his loyalties. He's not one of us. Chris is only just considering Vine as a real ally, let alone Butch, but he's not one of them, despite that he doesn't mind hunting. But just because he's not afraid to kill doesn't mean he's a murderer, does it? No, it can't do, because Chris and I have killed. We're playing our parts.
It's like a game of chess. The careers are the kings and queens and the others are, well, the others. They play a slow, sometimes painfully game until one wins. The lone victor. But even then, who is the real winner? Only the Capital. We can fight for our lives, but still we don't save them. Puppets, that's what we are. No control, we do as we're told, no hope of any other life. This is what we're destined to.
So as the four of us begin to walk towards the trees, I take deep breaths. I won't just except my fate. None of us will. Look out Capital, because we're fighting back.
So they're off hunting. Thats bound to mean blood and guts. Thank you again and please keep reading. It means a lot to me that you guy take your time to read and review. :)