CHAPTER NINETEEN
Turns out, my temporary accommodation did have an exit, but it appeared so blended, so camouflaged into the wall, that my brain couldn't quite perceive it, or maybe perhaps I am going blind.
My mind races a mile a minute as Lucia wordlessly escorts me to the stage. The somewhat disturbing image of Aelia's expression when I questioned my parents haunts my mind like the unforgettable memory of a deceased loved one. It pops up redundantly with each tap of the sole of my shoe against the polished stone floor. Her visage was somber and sullen, signifying so much, even though some consider it an almost meaningless gesture. Maybe Calina is right. They just might be dead.
The slight hum of the elevator dances through the air as Lucia cautiously bends down to my height. Her warm breath collides with my ear. "The bird and her partner, are alive." The bird? The sentence puzzles me at first, but then my bafflement is replaced with recognition.
A Mockingjay.
The Mockingjay. Otherwise known as Katniss Everdeen, my mother. And 'her partner', Peeta Mellark, my dad. Relief floods through my body, though drops of sympathy and wonder mix in with the torrent, for who is watching, and how much will this seemingly miniscule piece of information cost her? I recall my mother telling me once of a very close friend she had during her time in the Capitol. She wasn't specific enough as to provide me with a name, however their story was still memorable nonetheless. She told me of his normalcy, and how he was one of the less exotic of people that she encountered on her various trips here. He was also understanding, and possessed the ability to comprehend her situation more than anyone else. Then one day, he decided to do something very eminent, distinguishing himself and his differentiating political beliefs in front of the entire country. This was where he went wrong. At first she wasn't sure, of anything, but then, at the most unexpected moment President Snow managed to get his revenge. She never said exactly how, but her tone communicated more than any words could have. What if something like this were to happen to Lucia?
My eyes absently fall to the reflection of myself that the chrome doors of the elevator depicts. The image of the girl before me seems so foreign and diverse, that it might as well be someone else. I feel my stomach slightly clench in anticipation. What will my mother think when she sees her own daughter like this? Her dislike for the Capitol is evident, but I cant possibly imagine the thoughts and shock that would come with suddenly knowing that not only are her children present in its boundaries and far out of her grasp, but also suddenly sucked into the vicious game of revenge that it hosts. But, then again, she may not be able to watch depending upon a multitude of variables, some in which I prefer not to dwell on at the moment. Her potential inability to see us here, like this, just might be for the better considering all that is going on.
My line of vision jerks upward as the doors retract into the wall revealing an almost unbelievable scene. A sudden gasp entertains my lungs. No. Why? "Asher?" I cry, questioning the almost four-foot-tall, blonde headed boy at the end of the vast hall. He whips around in response, allowing me a glimpse at his grave face that is burdened with obvious signs of insomnia. His once full curls now hang lifeless and bland from root to tip, blanketing his head in tousled waves. "Asher!" I screech, my voice ripping through the thick silence, echoing off the dull cavernous walls.
My body heaves itself forward with such intensity, that it feels as though all my internal organs crash against the bones of my rib cage as Lucia roughly holds me back. She glares down at me, her fierce cobalt eyes like a raging ocean. "Don't make a scene." she growls, removing her arm from out in front of me.
I scowl maliciously in her direction before racing toward my brother despite her rather rude opinion towards the action. It isn't long before I feel the impact of his tiny six-almost-seven year old frame, and his small arms wrapping themselves around my torso. My fingers grip the back of his smokey grey suite, which I would have most definitely made fun of...that is, if we were not in our current situation. Tears begin to carve themselves down my flushed cheeks. "Oh Asher." I acknowledge tightening my embrace. "What did they do to you?" I pull away, my hand instinctively reaching for his chin, turning his face from side to side in examination – something my mother would do, not someone who is merely twelve. But I could hardly care about uncharacteristic actions given the time.
Asher uses the sleeve of his one-size-too-big coat to wipe the wetness from his own face, somehow managing to avoid messing up the makeup that seems to cover every inch of his visage, concealing something beneath its smooth and powdery mask. Though, no matter what they were trying to cover up, there are still aspects that remain visible to the naked eye. "Have you gotten any sleep?" I ask, gesturing to the dark bags above his cheeks. Asher begins to shake his head, before seeming to think better of it, replacing the previous action with a nod. I furrow my eyebrows in confusion. "Yes, or no?" He just continues to nod, his limp blonde curls bouncing lifelessly with the up and down movement of his head. Whatever. I am brushing away the escaped locks of hair from his forehead when a voice emerges from behind me.
"Willow?"
I whip around at the noise, my gaze temporarily leaving Asher, who for the first time since I have seen him, grins. He sprints toward the figure, affectionately hugging the pant leg of...wait – "Everest?"I rise from the floor, slowly taking in his appearance.
Like Asher, the young adult is dressed in formal attire, although the similarities between the two do not end there. His face, etched with a sort of exhausted relief, looks far older than that of someone in their late twenties. Darkened by insomnia and who knows what, it seems as though a fallacious mask of Capitol synthesized emotion was placed upon his visage, yet despite the fact, true thoughts and feelings were able to escape. Everest gently bends down to embrace the small child that clings to his leg, whispering short sentences of gratitude into the air surrounding him.
Despite his new found existence, my body is helplessly frozen in stance. Everest too? I mindlessly step towards the pair, my thoughts not following my actions by any means. Not just Asher, but Everest. Puissant, seemingly fearless, and unwavering Everest. The first child of two Victors. Son of the well known Finnick Odair and undoubtedly strong Annie Cresta. Baby of the rebellion. The symbol of hope and peace amongst those who were affiliated with the uprisings and unrest that was my mother's teenage years. "Who would do this?" I mutter breathlessly while wrapping my arms around both my brother and friend.
Everest readjusts his attention, now that I am present. "You know who, Willow." He speaks, having heard my previous sentence originally intended only for myself. I watch as tears begin to well in his eyes, a sorrowful sparkle glinting in his green irises, and fear suddenly rises up inside my body, constricting my airways. It usually doesn't pain me so much to see people cry, but there was the desperate, broken expression in his once lively eyes that was enough to enforce a gnawing sense of terror on my part. Seeing the person in whom you look up to fall apart, knowing that even they, of all people aren't so stable as to remain hopeful is almost devastating. If Everest has been so deeply affected by Calina, then how much will it take for us all to posses similar fates?
"I-" I start, though am almost immediately cut off.
"They know about Leah, Willow. She does. I don't know when she figured it out, or even how, but she said she did. What if-?" His voice is as fragile as glass, as if one more misplacement or crack will end up in the complete shattering of his sanity. He may look old, but his youth is still there.
I shake my head in disagreement, momentarily forgetting the surprise and shock that came with his appearance. "No. Don't talk like that. Everything will be fine.
Everest furrows his eyebrows in confusion. "How can you be so sure?" he pleads.
I am speechless for a second, my brain obtaining a temporary inability to comprehend the innocence and vulnerability in his tone. "I-" I begin, but rapidly decide to alter my answer. "Because no matter how bad it may seem, it always gets better. I promise."
Question flickers across his eyes, as if pondering whether or not to accept my words. I wait for a response or protest, anything that demonstrates a sort of reaction to the situation at hand.
But before I am granted with such, a sudden hand grasps onto my shoulder, gingerly dragging me backwards away from Everest and Asher. My head swiftly jerks to the side, searching for the source of the disruptor with demanding curiosity. "He needs to go." Lucia dismissively points at Everest, who at this point has managed to mold his face into one of a passive nature. I blink blankly, having completely forgotten about the interviews, before the reality of my state washes over me once more, a side-affect of dread and nerves settling for a second time. My arms reach towards Asher, taking his cool hand in mine, and pull him away from Everest. I bid our friend a halfhearted smile as farewell, all the while directing the rest of my will power on removing the thought of never seeing him again from my head. I embrace my younger brother reassuringly, needing more of the assurance myself. Lucia squeezes my shoulder lightly and adds distractedly "There is someone here to see you."
"Who would-?" My line of vision wanders from Lucia to the smiling figure behind her, my words trailing off along with any pleasant emotions. "What do you want?" I exact, a venomous tone dominating my otherwise civil disposition.
Calina smirks, her expression as kind and welcoming as poison. "You think you would be nicer to me, especially when your sweet brother's life is on the line." Asher discreetly recoils into me, gripping my arms with feeble, child-like strength.
A heavy sigh flares my nostrils as I ball my fists to contain the rage now coursing through my veins. "Why are you here, what do you want?"
She tilts her head, feigning pity. "Didn't Lucia tell you? We need to talk." She nods toward my stylist, an unspoken conversation existing between the two of them, and before I am entirely aware Asher is being pried from my arms.
"Stop! What are you doing?" I struggle, grabbing for him, but Lucia is stronger and much taller. She takes him away, farther down the hallway towards another room. I rise to my feet and begin following them but a stray hand curls its fingers around my wrist, preventing any other movement. "Asher!" I screech as his body becomes smaller and smaller the longer the distance is between my location and his.
"Ugh. Really. Stop being so over dramatic. You will see him again soon enough." She changes the subject without a second thought. "I need you to do me a favor, Willow." Calina states manipulatively.
I whip towards her with a ferocity like never before. "Why do you keep taking him from me! What makes you think you can do this?" My legs twitch with a dangerous urge to kick at her and fight back, but the logical portion of my brain deems it foolish and keeps it from happening. Unfortunately. Keeping a calm mind, I respond with a bland, "I do not owe you any favors." I mentally grin, thinking of how she used the same exact words on one of our first encounters.
Calina ignores my previous outburst. "Oh but you do Ms. Mellark. I am the one who saved your life and might I add, spared your brother's also."
I frown at the validity in her reasoning. " Fine. What do you want me to do?" Maybe it won't be that bad, but then again anything regarding our nation's current president isn't in the least bit good.
She fumbles with a tiny slip of paper no bigger than my palm. He eyes scan it attentively, as if proof reading whatever lie upon it. "When Caesar asks you if you have anything to say to your parents back in Thirteen, tell them this." She hands me the piece of parchment, but at the moment my mind focuses on a particular fragment of her request.
"My parents are in District Thirteen?" A spark of hope springs to life inside of me, and is only fueled by the paling face of Calina.
She tries to conceal her mistake. "I didn't ask for your input." Her words seem legitimate, however the glare present in her eyes gives away the foible. "You will read what I gave you, no questions asked."
I take this moment to glance at the message, written in an almost chicken-scratch like script upon a white background. Not so organized, are you Calina? I absorb each word, my brain processing the few phrases with horror. Instinctively my hands fling the thing in her direction. "No. No! I cannot read that. There is no way."
She rolls her eyes, as if peeved by my mere presence. " I figured you would disagree, so I decided to make a deal." She pauses to ensure my attention, that I'm listening.
"I won't be making any deals with you." I scoff, the sudden confidence only lasting but a few seconds.
Calina scowls, wrinkling her nose in complete disgust. "You better watch what you say. You're just as stubborn as your mother. That was her downfall. She was so quick to decide things, so narrow minded. I would be careful, you don't know what I may offer." I remain silent, but my brain screams a very long, very colorful strand of insults at the woman that I wouldn't dare to utter in front of anyone, especially my mother. She grins contently at my lack of verbal response."That's what I thought. Now, if you read the paper I'll keep Asher alive, and I will have you know that he is better to me dead. I don't see any purpose for him. I hope your smart enough to understand what my goal is by now, most people would have. But then again, you're just a child, not as intelligent as one might think."
"My dad always said the child's eye is far more perceptive than the adult. You don't know what I know."
"Your father was a hopeless romantic turned cold. Even to this day I'm sure his memories and comprehension are questionable." She retorts bluntly.
Her words sting, but I desperately try to hold myself together. I can't be weak in front of her, not right now, not ever. "And your father was nothing more than the son of a cold-blooded killer who tore this country apart."
Calina's grip on my wrist tightens painfully, and my fingers begin to grow stiff due to the lack of circulation. "My grandfather was a failure. There is no need to discuss him. That's what you're here for, to help do what he could not." I stare at her, intrigued by her words. What was that exactly? But before I am able to act upon these thoughts, Lucia returns with Asher by her side.
"Madame President, if you'll excuse me for interrupting, but it is almost time for them to go on stage." Under the vicious watch of Calina, Lucia, who was before rather tall, looks as small and helpless as Asher.
Calina nods, bending down to retrieve the paper. "Of course." She carelesly stuffs the parchment in my fingers and leans down closer to my face."Remember, the existence of your brother is on the line." She whispers malevolently only to regain her previous stance and walk away in the other direction.
Slightly dazed, I step towards Asher wrapping a gentle arm around his shoulders, the paper feeling awfully heavy between my fingertips. I drop my gaze toward the little boy whom I have loved ever since I was six, the little brother who, despite always being a nuisance, managed to infect my life with his happiness and joy nonetheless. I couldn't lose him. I wouldn't.
"Come on, the stage entrance is this way." Lucia continues to lead us down another dull, gray hall, and we follow, me with a harrowing decision weighing down my heart and occupying my mind, and Asher innocently ignorant to the fact that this one encounter determines whether he lives or dies, a fate that all comes down to the words in my hands.