Once again I am not in control of the voice in my head. But this time it isn't the whisper's hateful call for destruction and mayhem, or the hum's gentle nudge toward protection and sacrifice. This is my own voice, shame-filled and guilt-ridden. I can't control the deluge of blame. I knew. I knew Coin was poison, and I did nothing to stop her. Worse, I helped her, handing her the prize she'd schemed and plotted after for so long.
I clench my hands in my hair, wanting to scream out loud with the agonized frustration of it. Wanting to scour myself clean of the part I played, burn myself pure again. I will never be free of this. I am a pawn, stumbling blindly at their will, spreading ruin and destruction wherever I go. I will never be able to repay this debt. I slump in the corner in the dark, cradling my head in my hands, hating myself.
"Hello, Peeta."
My head snaps up at the impossibly familiar voice. Effie Trinket stands in the doorway, gilded wig glinting in the dim light, clutching a clipboard. Her dress, plum velvet with black piping, is as stylish as ever, her teetering heels as treacherous as ever. But her eyes are different. She looks hollowed out, like her sweet wine with all the bubbles extracted.
"Hello, Effie. It's good to see you," I reply carefully. Her vacant look is worrying, she seems like she could fold in on herself and disappear at any moment. Where has she been all this time? What has happened to her?
"It's another big, big, big day today," she intones, the smile pulling her lips up but not reaching her eyes. "I'm so sorry, we only have one prep team left, and they're busy with Katniss right now. And…" her voice falters. "There's no outfit for you. Only the jumpsuit." She looks as though she may cry.
"It's alright, Effie," I say gently, standing and crossing to take her hand in mine. "Are you here to take me to the mansion?" I smile into her eyes, sparkling with tears.
"Oh, Peeta," she whimpers, her face crumpling and tremors shaking her whole body. "I didn't know! I'm so sorry!"
Gathering her into my arms, I stroke her back as she cries, heartbroken sobs of grief and loss wracking her slight frame. My own guilt and shame burn as she weeps for what she's done, what she's been part of, and I feel the sting of tears in my own eyes. But tears and self-loathing won't erase the things I've done, won't change what's happened because of me. We need to atone for what we've done. I hold her, murmuring comfort and reassurance until the storm begins to subside and she finally steps back, wiping at her eyes and sniffling unabashedly.
"We've all done things we're ashamed of," I tell her softly. "We owe a lot of people to do better. To be better. It's the only way we can make up for it."
She nods slowly, and a bit of the life creeps back into her eyes. She smooths her skirt and straightens her shoulders. "I will. We will. We have an appointment before the – before the…event, and we can't be late." She looks ready to cry again and I hastily promise her I won't be late. I don't know what I have to meet about, maybe Plutarch wants to talk about camera angles and whether we should be in a line or an arc? Leave it to him to make an execution into a television event.
My heart is heavy and my mind fuzzy when I follow the guide's nod through the door into the meeting room. I freeze when I see the company seated around the large table, all sitting in heavy silence. Haymitch, Beetee, Enobaria, Johanna and Annie look up when I enter, all as puzzled as I am. Hesitantly, I make my way to an empty seat next to Johanna and look around the table at the gathering of victors. This can't be good.
"What's going on?" I ask hollowly.
"We don't know either," Haymitch drawls, a slight slur to his words. "And we've had this conversation about three times already. Let's wait a second, I'm guessing Katniss will be here in a minute, and then we can try and hash out what all this means."
My stomach flips over at the mention of Katniss joining us, but I'm more concerned with why these particular people are gathered together on this day of all days. I fidget self-consciously as Johanna stares at my scars. Beetee won't meet my eyes and I feel sorry for him. He likely designed the bomb that was used to kill all those children. What a weight he must be carrying. The rest of the victors are equally quiet. Annie cradles the small bump of a belly that is just starting to show and Enobaria can't keep her eyes off her. Haymitch looks like he's purposefully trying to not appear drunk.
The door swings open and Katniss strides through, dressed in her full Mockingjay regalia and glowing with radiant beauty. My breath freezes in my throat at the sight of her, just as she freezes when she sees us all sitting here.
"What's this?" she demands, her voice ringing with distrust.
"We're not sure," Haymitch shrugs. "It appears to be a gathering of the remaining victors."
"We're all that's left?" her shock echoes mine and we both stare in disbelief around the tiny group.
"The price of celebrity," Beetee replies in quiet confirmation. "We were targeted from both sides. The Capitol killed the victors they suspected of being rebels. The rebels killed those thought to be allied to the Capitol." A deep sadness pulls at my heart at this grim news. So much more death.
"So what's she doing here?" Johanna spits at Enobaria, just as the door swings open once again.
"She is protected under what we call the Mockingjay Deal." Coin's smug self-righteousness has increased ten-fold since I last saw her. She's dropped all pretense of being a struggling leader of the people, just fighting for justice. She wears a tailored jacket over a slim skirt, gold accents gleaming from the pocket flaps, and her curtain of hair is coiled in elaborate plaits behind her head.
"Wherein Katniss Everdeen agreed to support the rebels in exchange for captured victors' immunity." The rest of her words are lost on me as my eyes flash to Katniss. My immunity. She only agreed to be their Mockingjay if they wouldn't try me as a traitor for my apparent siding with Snow. My heart skips a couple beats and my hands feel sweaty.
I force my attention back to the conversation. Katniss is seated next to Annie and Coin is looking around the circle of us with a brittle, superior air. "I've asked you here to settle a debate," she says briskly. "Today we will execute Snow. In the previous weeks, hundreds of his accomplices in the oppression of Panem have been tried and now await their own deaths. However, the suffering in the districts has been so extreme that these measures appear insufficient to the victims. In fact, many are calling for a complete annihilation of those who held Capitol citizenship. However, in the interest of maintaining a sustainable population, we cannot afford this."
This news, too, pulls at my heart. I understand the anger and grief, all those bereaved families must be frantic with loss. It will take time to knit us back together as a nation, to learn to live side by side.
My chest is tight for another reason as well, though. I can't tear my eyes from Katniss. She is magnificent in her triumph. She sits straight and tall, the armor glinting with dark strength, her eyes echoing the flare of power. Scars run along her hands and up her arms, disappearing in the folds that hide the white wings, but reappearing over the collar to flare across her throat. My arms ache with the need to gather her close, to smooth the frown from her brow and kiss the sadness from her eyes.
Those same eyes flash to meet mine and I flick my gaze guiltily away. I have no right.
"So, an alternative has been placed on the table," Coin is still speaking in that haughty, cold voice. I force myself to focus on what she's saying, not how shiny and touchable Katniss' hair looks. "Since my colleagues and I can come to no consensus, it has been agreed that we will let the victors decide. A majority of four will approve the plan. No one may abstain from the vote." My eyes narrow as I clench my jaw. She is certainly not going to force me to vote on her toxic plans. She has no claim over me. "What has been proposed is that in lieu of eliminating the entire Capitol population, we have a final, symbolic Hunger Games, using the children directly related to those who held the most power."
A dead silence drops over the table as we all gape at her.
"What?" asks Johanna, her voice low with disbelief.
"We hold another Hunger Games using Capitol children," Coin repeats, unruffled.
"Are you joking?" I demand sharply. This is too much, even for her.
"No," she denies flatly, looking almost pleased, like she has us in her clutches. "I should also tell you that if we do hold the Games, it will be known it was done with your approval, although the individual breakdown of your votes will be kept secret for your own security," she finishes with a reassuring nod. Our security? Is that why she thinks we're silent? She obviously wants to present this plan as stamped with our approval, adding legitimacy to her vile plot and strengthening her claim to power through our unified support of her.
"Was this Plutarch's idea?" Haymitch asks, an edge of suspicion in his voice.
"It was mine," she replies firmly. "It seemed to balance the need for vengeance with the least loss of life. You may cast your votes."
"No!" I cry furiously. "I vote no, of course! We can't have another Hunger Games!" I can't believe she thinks we'd even discuss this.
"Why not?" Johanna murmurs, her eyes burning with hungry rage. "It seems very fair to me. Snow even has a granddaughter. I vote yes."
I stare at her in shock. Even with what she's been through, I can't imagine her wishing this on someone else's child. But then Enobaria offers her support as well. How can they do this? What do they think we just fought for? What did so many give their lives for?
"This is why we rebelled! Remember?" I stare around the table, searching their eyes for understanding. They can't know what they're voting for. "Annie?" I plead.
"I vote no with Peeta," she says, her voice more firm than I've ever heard it, her hand protectively cradling her belly. "So would Finnick if he were here."
"But he isn't," Johanna growls, blinded by hate. "Because Snow's mutts killed him."
"No," says Beetee, and I look to him gratefully. "It would set a bad precedent. We have to stop viewing one another as enemies. At this point, unity is essential for our survival. No."
I nod rapidly, drawing a shaky breath. I need to focus my thoughts, not let my emotions run away with me. These votes are from anger and pain. Only two are left, and thankfully, I know both of them agree with me.
"We're down to Katniss and Haymitch," Coin says silkily.
Katniss, her eyes fixed on a single rosebud in a water glass, doesn't look up.
"I vote yes…for Prim."
My heart crashes to the floor and my breath freezes in my throat. I stare at her, wide-eyed and disbelieving. The fiery demon flares behind my eyes.
"Haymitch, it's up to you," Coin purrs.
"Haymitch," I beg, "don't do this. We can't do this. Of course they're angry, of course they're in pain. But this is not the answer." He says nothing, his eyes steady on Katniss. "We're the only victors left," I remind him desperately. "Are you going to mentor another pair? Get more children ready to die?" His eyes flicker, but he doesn't look at me. "Please. These are not the only two options," I plead. "Killing everyone or killing their children? What are we doing? What have we become? If we let this happen, how is she different from Snow? How are we different from Snow?" He still says nothing and I can feel the panic rising in my throat, clawing its way up from deep in my belly. I can hear the whisper ringing with ecstatic fury. "Haymitch, please."
"I'm with the Mockingjay," he says.
My legs give out and I fall back into my seat, my hands shaking and my vision blurring as hot tears burn behind my eyes. What have we done? What have we done?
As if I were blind, I stumble where people lead me, lost in grief and despair. My mind reels wildly, trying to think of a way out. How am I going to stop this? The roar of a crowd filling the City Circle barely registers over the scream of the whisper. I stare numbly out over the throng, dizzied by the juxtaposition of every other time I've been here. Now, I am on the dais, above the common people, one of the distinguished and privileged minority held above the rest who will sacrifice their children to win my pleasure. Coin waves patronizingly from the balcony. I feel sick.
The roar of the crowd swells to screaming chaos when Snow is led out onto the terrace. His hands are tied behind a post, but it only adds to the pathetic image of a crushed man being jeered at in his defeat. Coin smiles triumphantly.
My vision stutters and jumps as Katniss reaches back for an arrow, knocks it with stony confidence. Snow coughs and blood trickles down his chin. I grip my fists into trembling knots, thinking of his granddaughter. Thinking of her watching this on television, thanks to Plutarch.
Katniss' arrow shifts, she releases and stands as it flies, posed exactly as she was when she brought the arena crashing down around us. Just before the world exploded. The arrow flies wide, arcing upward, finding its mark as true as ever. My father was always so amazed, she can take them through the eye every time.
As Coin tumbles over the balcony, a shocked silence rolls over the crowd, broken only by the wheezing, bubbling cackle of Snow's delighted laughter, paired with the foaming cough as he chokes and gags, keeling over against the restraints holding him to the post.
A sea of gray uniforms surges toward Katniss who waits, statue still, for them to come for her. I see her eyes sweep the crowd, defiant and unapologetic, and my heart swells with aching pride. Snow was wrong. She doesn't need me, she is only one of us strong enough to do what needed to be done. And now, she will take the consequences, with no whimper or whining.
I move with lightning quickness, covering the distance between us in the space of a heartbeat, my hand reaching, my feet pushing forward. And I'm there. Her strong, white teeth sink into the back of my hand as I dart in, covering the small pocket where Cinna hid her insurance, stealing this last, clean escape from her.
Her gray eyes flash as she struggles against my grip, trying to pull herself free. Now I understand why she wouldn't leave me in the candy colored house. Not because she didn't care what I wanted, but because there is no power on Earth strong enough to make either one of us give up on the other.
"Let me go!" she rages, tearing at my hand.
But I answer her honestly. "I can't."