A/N: Thanks to MJElliot, mangesboy01, richards25, allonsydney, Klicker'andKash, PrincessLyoka and krikanalo for reviewing! The support is appreciated :)
This chapter features the victor who was the subject of the first competition for this story, and so this chapter has been written by the winner of that competition, MJElliot, upon my request. I hope you all enjoy the chapter :)
"Witness this endless falter
As poison drifts through water
In my cup in my finest hour
Give in, sit down, why bother."
- Colin MacDonald, 2003.
The 75th Annual Hunger Games (The Third Quarter Quell) - Day 2, 1.45 am
Toby Denham (41), District 10 Male (victor of the 51st Annual Hunger Games)
The Trews - Why Bother (2003)
I let myself slide down against one of the tall, weird-looking trees that grow in the arena. Sweat trickles down my back and my face, soaking my garments, but my mouth is dry like the hills in my district at the end of summer. I stare at the rain falling just a few feet in front of me. I thought this was the answer to relieving my thirst, but once again the Gamemakers proved themselves unforgiving. It's not water that's falling from the artificial sky, but blood. Warm, thick droplets of blood that turn the whole arena red, as if the arena itself is bleeding. And the smell... The smell is overpowering - rusty and salty and... dead. I feel my face going numb and my head starts to spin and all of a sudden the jungle is replaced with flashes of tall grasses changing colour and dead things decomposing on the ground.
I put my head between my knees and squeeze my eyes tight, breathing shallowly through my nose, before I start seeing her again, lying dead and broken in my arms.
The flashes came sometime after I was crowned victor. I was numb for a while; I guess the doctors in the Capitol kept me medicated so I could put on a good show for the audience. But after all was said and done and I smiled enough smiles and shook enough hands, I was left alone with my grief in a big, hollow house. It didn't take long after that. First came the nightmares - terrifying and painful; I didn't sleep much and neither did my neighbours. When they couldn't take any more screaming, they called Mark, Jessie's father. Facing him was difficult for both of us, because we both knew I'd failed her. He gave me some sleeping herbs which helped only for a while, numbing my brain so I could get a few hours of rest. It was then that I started having the flashes. They were so vivid... every time it was like I was right back in the arena. The Capitol fixed my body up so I looked whole on the outside, but inside I was broken forever.
Things were really bad for a while and Mark had to come by more and more often until once day he finally moved in. We didn't speak much, but he was there to help me get through the flashes, help he feed and dress myself when I didn't have he strength. I, in turn, gave him the money and space he needed to set up a proper healing facility.
It took a long time, but slowly I learned how to control my flashes and create a routine that resembled normal life. I never took to mentoring, and whenever I was forced to the Capitol, Indiana took all the responsibility for me. I know it wasn't fair on Fernando or Indiana - who have mentored thirty-three Games in a row because of me, but I couldn't go through other Games when I kept reliving my own. I didn't watch any of the Games or even bother to get to know the tributes, which is good because none of them ever made it back.
I did think a lot about Jessie, but also Cole and Marcy, who didn't die by my hand, but who I could have helped in some way. And about Gaius - his dead eyes, looking up at me while I mercilessly pummelled him, still haunt me to this day.
I didn't pay much attention to what was going on around me but one time I just realised that things had changed. The injured people that came into my house to be treated no longer bore their pain with stoicism. Between pain meds, moaning and crying I saw fierce glances. I saw anger and hate. While constantly remaining present in my life, Fernando and Indiana had become guarded, sharing quiet glances filled with meaning. People were growing restless. There was talk in the streets about a girl on fire and... star-crossed lovers in the Hunger Games?
I started paying more attention. For the first time in more than twenty years, I turned on the television and watched the Games. Mark begged me not to do it - their story was too close to home. But I couldn't turn away; I was sure it was just a strategy. I saw reruns of Katniss volunteering for her sister. I saw Peeta crying in front of Panem, all the way to the train. She was brave but tiny, he was weak; I didn't give them any chance. They came out wearing flames and holding hands. I remembered how frightened I was when they showed us off in those carriages; I remembered craving to hold Jessie's hand.
I saw reruns of their interviews. She looked silly and shallow to me. He took my breath away; he did the one thing that I wasn't brave enough to do - declare my love for Jessie and get the public and the sponsors on our side. I didn't want to sell out my love for Jessie, but seeing Peeta and the crowd's reaction I began to wonder if I had made the right choice.
They didn't stay together in the Games. They didn't even try to search for each other. Peeta allied himself with the Careers. He was the best player in the Games - cruel and calculating, playing with everybody's minds and feelings; I hated him for it. But then he saved Katniss and almost got himself killed for it, and I saw what his plan really was. Lie and deceive and do whatever it takes to get her out alive. It was what I tried to do for Jessie, only he saw the bigger picture, he was smarter than me.
I started to imagine how it would have been for us if we had professed our love; would we have gotten the same support? Would we have gotten sponsors? Would I have been able to save Jessie's life? I lived and breathed their Games, seeing myself in Peeta and hating Katniss for being so fortunate as to have him with her. I convinced myself that she didn't deserve to be saved because she didn't love him back; not the way Jessie loved me.
And then she held that little girl while she was bleeding out and sang to her her, low and heartbreaking until she died. Maybe it was the song, maybe it was the way the light hit Katniss' hair, I don't know. But at that moment I saw Jessie singing me to sleep when I was sick. It wasn't a flashback - I hadn't had one since I started watching the Games - it was the memory, the way she was when I fell in love with her and almost broke again, for us, for them...
In the end they both came out together. His love, her courage and both of their determination to keep each other alive, to save them both. If only I was smarter, if only I was braver, less selfish, that could have been us. I could have saved Jessie. We could have been together, gotten married, had a family. The house would have been filled with laughter and Mark's face would have borne wrinkles of happiness instead of worry and sadness. I always knew I had failed, but only when I saw both of them crowned victors did it become clear to what extent.
When Snow announced, the Quarter Quell, I knew I would go back into the Games. There was nothing I could do for Indiana, her being the only female victor in our district. But at least Fernando will die in his own bed since I was reaped in his place - I had planned to volunteer for him, but the reaping bowl saved me the hassle. I owed him that much.
So here I am, a tribute again, watching an abomination falling from the artificial sky of the arena, a few hundred yards away from Katniss, Peeta and their allies. I didn't ask to join them. I don't want to get to know them more than I already have, through brief exchanges during the victory tour and flash encounters in the Training Centre. I know Peeta wants to keep Katniss alive, because he loves her and because of the baby. So I'll do my best to help him do that. I know I'll die in the process. I decided that I wanted to die when I held Jessie's dead body in my arms. I was just too big of a coward to do anything about it.
I notice a slight decrease in the downpour of blood and so I lean forward, crouching on the balls of my feet, the hairs on the back of my neck standing on end. It's so hot and wet in the arena that every pale of wind seems like a God send. This is when I jump to my feet; everything in the arena seems to be controlled by the Gamemakers, therefore I shouldn't trust anything that seems too good to be true.
I smell the mist before I see it, sweet and sickening, its white, wispy tendrils slithering through the grass and moss. I take a tentative step backwards. It could be a natural phenomenon... I've seen it happen at home... but something tells me that I should start running. Then again, who knows who or what is lurking in the darkness? If I make too much noise I risk attracting unwanted attention... I ponder my options for a moment until I feel the tiny sharp stings on the exposed skin of my calf, right where I slim tendril of fog curls around it. That's the signal I need to turn around and start running.
The fog seems to have a grip on me. It seems to come faster, wrapping me in its blistering grasp. Searing pain shoots up my leg, up my calf, burning me without flame. I don't risk looking down at my leg, because I'm afraid I'll see charred flesh and exposed bone - that's how bad the pain is. I feel acid droplets on my arms, on the back of my neck, on my back, burning through my clothes.
The pain is excruciating. I can almost hear my skin sizzling. My heart pumps a mile a minute and my picture becomes blurry. Every step I take feels like I'm running on bubbles.
Run!
I want to shout, I want to warn the others to take flight but for some reason my throat constricts painfully around the words and the only thing that comes out is a faint moan. Something weird is happening to my face, my eyes feel droopy and for some unknown reason my feet seem to gain a mind of their own. They start twitching uncontrollably as I stumble through the lush green vegetation.
I'm thoroughly scared now, and I feel my body starting to fail me.
This is it, I think to myself as my knees start to give in.
My mind feels cloudy and my movements happen in slow motion. Every nerve in my body feels on fire, burning me from within.
I register shouting somewhere to my right and I feel a wave of relief. They must have figured the fog out. I take a few more painful steps and I collapse to the ground with a muffled thud. My body is plagued with convulsions, my muscles are spasming out of control and searing pain is everywhere. I throw up the meagre contents of my stomach and lie on the ground waiting for my death.
But my heart continues beating. My lungs keep taking ragged breaths. The pain continues to burn away, but it's no longer getting stronger. Painfully slowly, I open my swollen eyelids. All I see is white. I blink a few times, though it feels like my eyes are covered in crushed glass. There is an almost solid-looking wall of fog, shimmering a few inches from my fingers.
A faded memory crosses my mind - a curtain of bloody rain, falling in one place as if contained by an invisible barrier. The whirls of fog crowd together almost furiously, but they don't seem to be able to move forward and engulf me.
My body twists and jerks of its own accord, but inside my mind I'm smiling to myself.
The Gamemakers haven't killed me yet!
A/N: A review for MJElliot, anyone? I'm sure they deserve it for that chapter :)
If by some chance you've missed it, I suppose I should remind you that Toby's first Games (which was also written by MJElliot) is Chapter 51.
Happy reading everyone :)
