CHAPTER 4
Target
He seems taller than I remember and even more handsome, but apart from the clothes he wears, he is just the same boy that I knew. He is strong and capable, every inch resembling a soldier here to protect. I have to remind myself as the see the gun at his side exactly what he is prepared to do for the cause he believed in. As he stands before me, he doesn't look as out of place in my living room as I might have imagined. It could be just a normal day back in my old home in the Seam when he would come and visit sometimes. We would sit together and mess about with Prim or he would have a long chat with my mother. He wears a strange expression which I have never seen before. I find I want to know whether he is thinking about the same things I am, or whether his mind has completely blanked me out, but I am unable to tell. It's not the fact that it reminds me of President Snow when he calls me Miss. Everdeen that upsets me, it's more the fact that his formality is his way of keeping a distance between us when there was once never anything that could do that. He doesn't look away from me, instead his grey stare that I remember only too well washes over me and I find that although I am fully clothed, I feel bare and exposed in front of him. I am at a loss to understand or control my own sentiments as I face him. I sense Peeta watching me and I fight hard not to let any of my own disarrayed emotions show. It somehow seems wrong to have Peeta here to witness this moment, a moment I never believed I would have to face. It is Prim's face that I remind myself of as I regard him and I feel that darkness envelop me which comes from knowing that he is responsible for taking her away from me. I will never see her smile again because of the man I used to call my friend. I want to scream at him but for some reason completely unknown to me, I am continually compelled to look at him and I can't turn away. I want to touch him, to see if he is real and the ache I suddenly feel because I can't angers me. He is less than two feet away from me but he may as well be on the other side of the world. He asks me if I have any questions and my eyes reply that I only have one that needs answering. I have asked it of him countless times in my dreams without an answer and I am tired of repeating myself. In reality I have only ever asked it of him once. I shake my head but he knows that I am asking for the second time the only question I need him to answer. The same question that he still has no answer for.
/
Katniss is even more beautiful now than she has ever been, her allure tinged with an air of vulnerability and a fragility which pulls at my every instinct to protect her. I had always tried to protect her from the moment we met. It was I who used to warn off any boy who even cast their eyes in her direction. Old habits die hard. I am seized with the urge to rush to her side and put my arms around her, shelter her from the world and erase all the pain I can feel radiating from her. Underneath the attire which makes me think it has been designed for someone older, she still looks more like a girl than a woman. Even though I have seen her in a dress before, when she was being paraded all over the Capitol with Mellark and televised in every district, this is the first time I have seen it in the flesh. I have always pictured her in her normal hunting clothes, the way she was when we used to hunt together. In the fitted black dress she wears, she doesn't quite seem like my Katniss – the girl from the Seam. I try to gage her reaction to me after the visible shock she displayed on first seeing me, but her face gives nothing away. It's only when I look deep into the same grey eyes as mine that I see her anger, alongside a deep rooted hurt and betrayal that I am certain will never go away. To think I had misguidedly held out a shell of hope that her accusation against me had subsided or that she may be a little closer to forgiving me. If anything, it seems to be even stronger than when it was in the hospital that day. The way she is looking at me makes me feel as though I have continued to damage her every single day since, over and over again.
From the outside, she still looks like the same sixteen year old Katniss that I said goodbye to before she was sent into that arena. She came back the same Katniss, but I knew something was missing between us which we never had the chance to find again. Even though she was still my friend then, things didn't feel the same way between us any longer. Too much had happened. She bore the scars of survival and the burden of his love on her shoulders. The obligation to that love which followed only served to make the distance between us wider.
I hear my heartbeat crashing against my chest, as it has been doing from the moment I lay eyes on her. I can only hope that none of them can see just how much I am affected by her presence. To try and clear my mind, I look around the living room. There are three paintings hanging on the wall - one of flowers, one of birds in the sky and another of a beach overlooking an ocean. They are so realistic and scenic, and I know that they could only have been painted by Mellark. I find myself envious of his talent and that even her home contains a part of him. On the table by which I stand, there are two cups half full with water side by side and I have an image of the both of them sitting here, him painting while she watches, drinking from these cups. He takes her hand in his and I see him whisper close to her ear. This doesn't seem a deliberate act for my benefit. Their closeness is natural and unforced and I know that he cares about her. I am grudgingly grateful to him. With every day that I was away from her, I could be reassured that she wasn't here alone with nobody to look out for her. At least he has been by her side. But that should have been my responsibility I think bitterly. I set my jaw and force myself to stand straighter.
'We leave in fifteen minutes, Miss. Everdeen, and expect to be seated in time for your speech at 6.30', I say to her, 'At eight after the event finishes, Hayes and I will escort you back home'.
'There's no need for that', I hear Mellark protest. 'I'll take Katniss back home'.
'I'm under orders', I reply brusquely, my eyes resting on their entwined hands. He doesn't pursue the point, and my body tenses as he puts an arm around Katniss, who turns her attention to him now. I feel hollow watching their evident closeness, awash with the memory of what I once was to her. How we would be closer than that, together forever. Or so I thought. Mellark asks us to have a seat and offers us a glass of water. I take the offer of a seat but refuse the water, and the remaining minutes are spent in an unbearably tense atmosphere which suffocates me. I stop looking at her but I see that she has sat down on the sofa with her body turned away from me, which prevents her from looking my way again. Her rejection hurts me but I have no choice but to sit and wait, feeling as though I am invading their space and full of regret for what we once shared.
/
The journey to the old Justice Building is made by the four of us in complete silence. Gale doesn't speak to us directly and we are directed by Soldier Hayes. We arrive there early and have a few more minutes to spare before the first speech. The large crowd had already assembled outside. Most of the people were stood in the centre but at the very front of the stage were a few rows with seats. We are shepherded carefully down one of the two side alleys which are barricaded and manned by soldiers.
I am confused by the amount of security that I see here. Surely there isn't that much of a threat to either the President or myself to merit all this fuss. Am I in danger? Is Peeta? I open my mouth to ask Gale, but instantly close it again as the realisation that we no longer speak hits me. Even all this time after, my instincts still behave as though we are the same as before. It takes a second before my mind has to remind me of what has come to pass, and then the memory of my sister shuts me down again. We reach the side steps leading onto the platform and Gale turned to Peeta.
'You'll have to take a seat there, Mellark', he said, indicating to the very front row which had a few empty seats, 'Only guests are allowed onto the main platform'.
'I have to stay with her', Peeta said resiliently.
'I can't breach security by allowing you on that stage', Gale counters obstinately.
'She won't be able to stay up there alone', I hear Peeta persist.
Gale looks at me for a moment. I see him assessing me, his face appearing worried and I know he is wondering just how fragile I could possibly be. He sighs.
'With all due respect, Mellark, we have been assigned the task of protecting only Miss. Everdeen. I can't be responsible for your security too. I also know from personal experience that you have a tendency for, let's say, unstable tendencies. I can't take that risk letting you up there. It's protocol', Gale explains patiently.
Peeta bristles at his words. Gale mustn't know that Peeta had been completely cured of the poison that the Capitol had inserted into him from tracker jackers, and he had returned to normal without any relapse. Why would he know? No one was interested in Peeta anymore. They never really were. All I know is that Peeta posed no security threat whatsoever. It wasn't likely that he would try and kill the President, or anyone else for that matter. Peeta wasn't and never had been a killer. A killer like Gale.
'With all due respect, Hawthorne, if you had been briefed properly, you would know that I have completely recovered from all that', Peeta said equally calmly, keeping his stature.
Gale eyed him evenly as if trying to decide whether he was telling the truth. 'I still can't let you go up there. You'll have to wait for Miss. Everdeen here'.
I can't get on that stage without having Peeta beside me, it's impossible. Why is Gale stopping him? What is the big deal and why does he seem to be doing everything in his power now to keep the one good thing in my life away from me? I clench my fists and press them up against the side of my rigid body before turning on Gale. I feel my irritation provoked and the venom in my voice takes everyone including myself by complete surprise.
'If Peeta isn't allowed up there with me, then you can forget it. I'll go back home and the hell with your protocol!' I say forcefully.
Gale looks at me and he knows from the determination in my eyes that I am stubborn enough to do exactly what I have said I will. He weighs this up in his mind before he speaks discreetly with Hayes, who nods silently before speaking into a well hidden earpiece. I don't hear what is being said but after a minute or so, Hayes leans in towards Gale and says something in his ear.
'OK, Mellark - I'll clear you. But you don't move without informing me first. Do you understand?'
Gale doesn't wait for a response before he starts to climb the stairs onto the platform.
'Follow me', he says briskly. I start to climb up onto the platform and Peeta follows behind me. The last step before I enter the platform is slightly higher than the others. A hand reaches down and offers to help me up. Instinctively I reach up and take it. It is only when I feel such a powerful surge go through me that I realise it is his hand that I am holding. His fingers are strong around mine and I get the feeling that he will never let go. I don't want him to let go. I seem to stop where I am, once more incompetent to move my body. The noise around me is drowned out. I want to take my hand away from his but it's as though we are two parts of a magnet, drawn to one another and unable to separate. This is the first time I have felt his touch in years and the yearning feeling inside me unsettles me. I feel something deep within me start to uncoil and my fingers tighten against my will around his. He reaches the very core of me as he catches my eye for a fraction of a second. In that one moment it feels as though he is inside me. Gale has become part of my body and my mind, and he feels everything that I am feeling. We are communicating on a level that requires no speech or action. I have never felt this before and I feel invaded somehow, like my body isn't mine – it belongs to Gale, almost like an extension of him. Then I am moving up and I realise that he is pulling me up. As soon as I am on the platform, he lets go and offers his hand to Peeta. I get a hollow feeling as soon as his skin has left mine. I feel slightly embarrassed and my cheeks burn as I stand by and wait for Peeta to climb up. My breathing is unsteady and stricken, but it has nothing to do with my worry about speaking to thousands. What on earth is wrong with me? Gale doesn't look at me and I occupy myself with fidgeting with my nails. We are shown to our seats at the large table in a similar set up to the one I saw on the Capitol stage for the first broadcast. Peeta takes the seat on my left and Gale takes the one immediately to my right. Peeta's hand reassuringly squeezes mine but I don't know when he took it, and I don't feel the warmth of it. My skin burns with an unexpected sensation that Gale's touch has left behind. He sits beside me and I notice that he positions his chair so it restricts him from coming into any physical contact with me. He sits up straight and speaks into his earpiece. My eyes are drawn to his profile and I can't help but think of how attractive he is. I watch the prominent vein in his neck move as he swallows, and I have to bite down on my lip to stop myself from reaching out to touch him. My eyes are drawn to his lips and I think how much I want to hear him laugh. I find I can't sit comfortably and am overly hot, despite the cool breeze which fills the late August air.
These feelings about Gale are wrong. I feel my own guilt smothering me; guilt at my sister's memory and shame over my body's reaction. I feel unsettled at the way I am looking at my sister's killer. But he doesn't look like somebody who could kill her, he just looks like Gale. I want to stop myself but I don't know how. I am not used to being so out of control, so ready to be taken over by feelings I have never experienced and do not understand that it infuriates me. This battle going on in my mind is giving me a headache. I rub my temples hard and Peeta raises his eyebrows questioningly. I smile half-heartedly at him but I don't meet his eyes.
Gale shows no emotion at all. He sits silently beside me and waits, nodding slightly in acknowledgement at various people as the table starts filling up. I don't recognise any of them. His eyes focus solely on the crowd, scanning for any sign of danger. I feel my nerves shot to pieces as the crowd sound louder. I can't concentrate on any of the speeches made by the people who speak before me. Peeta is quiet and I know that he is listening, but every now and again, he leans in to check if I am alright and I feel his familiar comfort around me, momentarily reassured. I see the large camera focus on my face and I know that on the big screen behind me, I am being projected all around Panem. I am the centre of attention for everyone in the building, and just as I am almost beginning to feel sick, I hear the announcer's introductions reminding everyone of my past glories before finally, my name is being called.
Shakily I stand, reluctant to let go of Peeta's hand. I stare at him in a panic and he mouths at me that I will be fine with a smile. Gale stands when I do, and in one stride he is by my side. Gently he places an arm around my waist and propels me towards the speaker's platform. I find that I feel grateful for this support and I make no attempt to get away from him as he walks me slowly towards the microphone. His arm feels strangely protective around me and I am shocked to realise that I like the feeling. When I am at the small step, his arm brushes down the small of my back before he takes it away and retreats to the far side of the stage to wait for me to finish. With unsteady feet and an equally unsteady heart, I mount the step and take the microphone. I look ahead of me and see the sea of people eagerly awaiting my words. My mouth is dry and I crave water. A glass has been placed by the stand before me and I take a few sips thirstily. I halt a moment, waiting for the noise to die down before I start to speak.
'I want to say...'I start. My voice shakes and I am filled with panic. I try and breathe slowly before I start again.
'I want to say that I am thankful to President Paylor and this new government for the freedom in which we all now live. So many lives were lost for this cause. I take comfort that all of our loved ones will be looking down on us happy in the knowledge that we...that we all can continue to live in peace, and that there need not be any more unnecessary suffering'.
As I speak, I don't know where the words are coming from. My mouth is opening and the words are just coming freely from somewhere within me.
'Prim was my sister', I continue, 'An innocent girl who was... I pause, closing my eyes as her face flashes before me. I grip the stand. 'She was...murdered, for nothing'. My voice has started shaking again, and I am temporarily unable to speak as tears well up in my eyes. I turn my head to the side and see Gale watching me. He averts his gaze from mine and looks down, knowing my words were directed at him. I convert my sadness to anger again, which is my speciality, and it dries up the tears. I am filled with that fury at Gale and all that he was responsible for. 'We need to ensure that that does not happen to anyone ever again. I thank you all for all your words of support and acceptance since I came back, but I want you all to know that I don't stand here before you as the Mockingjay today. I stand before you as Katniss Everdeen. I'm just an ordinary girl, one of you, who also lost people dear to me just as you all did'.
I stop again and take a deep breath, my voice stronger and more confident, 'As much as I feel comforted in the knowledge that our loved ones can see us free, I feel a deep sorrow that they aren't here to share it with us. Let's not forget them. That's all, thank you'.
My speech is received with warm applause and I remain at the stand for a moment to acknowledge it so as not to appear rude, but I feel awkward. Gale is back by my side as soon as I come off the step and we head back to our seats. I can't help but feel frustrated that he is beside me. He is the one responsible for taking Prim away and I need to hold onto that anger. It is the only emotion I want to feel for him, and the only way I can deal with his presence right now. This time I don't let him touch me and as I retake my seat and the applause continues, I bury my head into Peeta's shoulder and hide my face from the cameras and from Gale in his chest. He kisses my head and strokes my hair.
'Well done', he whispers, 'You were amazing'.
I don't feel amazing, I feel sick and hurt and furious. My thanks to this new government was meaningless. I am not grateful to them for the life that I have, I can only think of the life that I've lost and the yesterday that I will never relive. The dark cloud which covers me daily has descended and no amount of comfort from Peeta can make it shift. I am alone facing it, and I alone must find a way out before it chokes me completely.
/
From a well hidden point in some nearby trees at the back of the crowd, the young man pulled out a long range silent sniper rifle from inside his jacket. Amidst the applause, no one is paying any attention to the surrounding areas. The evening had been going as planned and the Mockingjay had just made her final speech. He placed the weapon on his shoulder and directed it at the stage, switching the focus on and zooming over to where she sat. The President was due on the stage in a matter of seconds so the time to strike was now. With a steady hand, he trained the gun onto her and released the safety.
Stupid bitch, we'll see how she sings again now.
With pure hatred coursing through his veins, he pressed down on the trigger once firing the shot at his target with only one intention - to kill.
/
My gaze is on the trees beyond and I long to be in the woods now, away from this and away from her and Mellark. I watch as they sway in the breeze and I can smell their fragrance calling me. As I am lost in their allure, my eyes are drawn to a small flicker of light coming from amidst one of the branches. My senses heighten and I sense danger, something isn't right. I rise from my seat intending to alert someone to go and take a look. As I stand, I realise what the light belongs to and where I have seen it before. I have been trained in most high-tech weaponry and I know that light is from a sniper rifle. I see the light rise up and I follow its direction quickly. As I turn to Katniss, I see the smallest spot of white on her black dress, almost unnoticeable to the untrained eye, right at her heart. I know I have less than a split second to act and before she has time to react, I throw myself in front of her. She gives a startled gasp as my weight slams onto her, and then the bullet enters my body. The pain is blinding and instant. It takes all my strength to look up to see if she is hurt, my hands clutching onto her shoulders. I meet the stormy grey depths of her eyes and watch her confused expression turn to horror as the weight of my limp body crumples in her arms. The last thing I hear before my eyes close and I pass out is the agonising scream which passes her lips with the one name I have ached to hear her say for an eternity. Mine.