XX
…
She couldn't straighten out her spine, her back to be correct.
The lashes were still there. Some were more healed than others. Some were a closure shape of her natural tone and others were a scarlet red. She refused Capitol healing to rid of them quicker, but something told me when we did get there, to the Capitol, that they would have their way with her and polish the lashes and scars away, make her perfect, take away the flaws that she wore with pride.
She acted as if they weren't there, the lashes and scars. She acted as if she had never been cuffed to that post in the court of the Justice Building and whipped. But they were and she was. The lashes and scars were just hidden underneath and behind the fancy clothing Cinna brought for her to wear along the Tour.
The lashes and the scars changed her, more than I or Mitch had in the last months.
She was the Katniss before the Games, the one that had a… spark as Haymitch put it. And -
I wasn't sure how I felt about that.
I admired that Katniss, I truly did. She, the one with the spark, was who drew me in, who caught my attention and told me she was a victor even before she stepped foot out into that arena. But to the fault of the Game I never met that Katniss, I met the one with the spark that was broken and damaged and fragile… that was till now.
I don't know how I felt about it, but I did.
She, the one with the spark, reminded me of me before I met her.
She was strong and stubborn and angry and silent and independent and prominent and bold. She no longer cried or had any kind of moment where she was anything less than strong. She did not sleep days away, but kept herself clean and hidden her insomnia as well as a victor can. She rarely looked to Haymitch for help and me not at all anymore. She walked on her own, metaphorically and literally. Mitch and I were either two feet ahead of her or two feet behind. She held her ground and was direct, speaking less, just enough to get to the point. She fended herself, making her own meals and forcing herself to eat.
She may not have been able to straighten out her back and stand tall, but she had her spark back.
She was Katniss Everdeen, the girl from District 12.
…
The Girl on Fire was still alive.
As much as she was Katniss Everdeen, the girl from District 12 she was also theirs, she was a possession like the rest of us victors, but she is especially special to those of the Capitol without a doubt, she was the Girl on Fire in front of those cameras.
Right now she was in front of them, in front of the cameras, being looked up at upon by the entire nation. And so she was the Girl on Fire as a result.
She stood behind the wooden podium doing as she was told like the Capitol puppet they made her out to be.
She wore the clothes Cinna had dressed her in, those that suited the Capitol. Her image as a killer that Haymitch had directed Cinna to make a point in her wardrobe did in fact make her desirable alongside the faces of silent and mysterious. She allowed her prep crew paint her with makeup along her skin without a care knowing if she didn't comply it wouldn't end well. She didn't knot her fingers together or reach for the tail of her braid for security as Effie instructed her to do. She took Haymitch's reassuring smile to heart knowing that he would get her through hell and high waters. She read from her the index cards the Capitol had provided without flaw knowing one wrong word could mean an iron fist coming down on those she spoke to. And she looked at every person in front of her as Katniss, with sorrow and sadness for the pain she had caused them knowing that was her only attribution and say to her being as the Girl on Fire.
She wore their clothes and acted their way and read their words.
But…
She did it in her own way, with her own terms. She had a little insurgence within her. She didn't smile or obnoxiously wave or act all high and mighty. She nodded her in in regret and looked to them with a mixture of sorrow and regret.
She did what she had to do and she did it her way and when done she walked away. The moment she could, she was striding off the stage and through the Justice Building not stopping till she was safely back to the train.
…
Katniss was back to herself and so were the rest of us.
Haymitch was a little less sober. Katniss was back, fighting her own battles quite well and he was able to take the back seat, relaxing as you would say.
Effie was a little more strict about things than when she had been before when Katniss was… broken. She was not holding back anymore, no filters, just shouting out whatever she had to say without a care.
Cinna was… well he was just Cinna. He was the same the man he always was. He was neutral and calm and fair, always the same as always.
And I was… I felt like I was too. I felt like I was back to myself like the rest of the gang. I was back to myself. I was Cato, Cato.
I was Cato Battenberg, 72nd Hunger Games Victor, the Brute again. I was the guy I was before Katniss appeared, before she began breaking and I began getting soft, being the "good guy" for once in a lifetime.
I was back in the game, life.
Again I stood tall. I was seen as strong and cold and stubborn and angry. I was prominent and bold. I was the stone, silent victor I was before. I was independent. My days were organized and planned again. Breakfast, talk with Haymitch, lunch, workout, dinner, workout, shower and bed. And sometimes there was Katniss in the mix. There was no more weakness and no need of help. I was direct in the fewest words possible. I was on my own, fending for myself, surviving on my own like I had done for nineteen years before Katniss Everdeen walked through the door.
I was me.
Me.
…
They were dancing. . Finnick Odiar. And. Katniss. Finnick Odiar was dancing with Katniss. Katniss was dancing with Finnick Odiar. They were dancing together, in the hall in front of everyone, cameras included. And they had been dancing for a number of songs straight since Finnick had strutted over to our table where he asked for her hand and Effie happily accepted for her.
Then the next thing I knew they were dancing and… they were still dancing.
They were playing a game as if it was.
They were close too. Too close in my opinion. His one hand rested low on the dip on her lower back where the lashes and scars had not reached and the other clasped hers in his. Their hips were just about touching and their chests were pressed against one another.
She allowed it all and I wasn't sure if it was really her whom was allowing it or if it was the Girl on Fire. I let my mind think either way, that she was just playing her role.
But she was allowing it nonetheless. She pressed against him, her hand clasped in his and the other gripping his back. And she was smiling, actually appearing to be enjoying it.
They danced and twirled and did all the moves.
It wasn't till the music slowed and they turned so Katniss's back now faced me that I was truly bother by the fact that they were dancing together, still. Especially as I watched as Finnick Odiar, the Sex God of the Capitol, the man that put the STD in Stud began to whisper hushed words in her ear and I could not see her expression. And it wasn't just a few words, it was enormous sentence that were long and wordy and without a doubt serious by the expression Finnick wore.
After a few minutes he stopped and they continued to dance. They danced till the song ended and the gracefully thanked each other for their time before Katniss was swept off her feet by the next party guest, following her role of Capitol ragdoll.
…
Brutus smiles as Spens wraps his arm around Katniss's waist no doubt making her feel uncomfortable. That's all they have been doing, Brutus and Enobaria and Spens and all the District 2 victors was making Katniss feel uncomfortable, testing the Girl on Fire.
It was a game to them.
Everything was a game now. Everything.
Whatever Haymitch had held away and welly hidden from Cinna and I a month ago following Cinna's arrival in 12 was everywhere. You could just feel it. I don't know if people knew and I knew that if they did they weren't many of them. There was something going on, known or unknown.
It was there, in the atmosphere. You could feel it, see it, sense it any way shape or form. The way people stepped and the words that they let slip through their teeth you just... knew.
District 2 was the worse of the districts. You could see it. It was everywhere, the game.
It was a game.
Especially now as I unwilling stood beside Brutus watching the party around us. There was the way that Haymitch barely had more than a class or two of white liquor. There was how Cinna was flirting with the mayor's wife. There was the way Effie sat around a table with the top Peacekeepers of the district talking away. And then there was Katniss, not stabbing a single soul in sight, but playing her role to perfection and letting them push her around.
It was a game.
Brutus smiles, nudging me as Enobaria comes up behind Katniss, hissing in her ear as Spens gives her side a squeeze all causing her body to freeze and no doubt make her skin crawl. I grit my teeth knowing I can't do anything to help her, but I don't show weakness, not giving Brutus the reaction he wants, not giving the satisfaction he thrives off of.
Something was up. There was a game playing out and the more and more we climbed down the district clatter toward the Capitol, the worse it got.
…
There was food and drinks and decorations and music and people and everything and anything one could imagine. It was the Capitol… and it was everything I hated.
And I hated it all even more so than before as it made my skin crawl as whatever game was being played or whatever secret that was being kept hidden or problem that was trying to be solved was everywhere here, in the Capitol.
I hated it, hated it all.
And as the fireworks went off above the President's Mansion the crowd around me looked up in wonder and awe expect for Katniss who was looking elsewhere.
Watching her, I followed her eyes to where I supposed they look, elsewhere. And they look to where everyone's eyes aren't, to where no one's eyes would never be. They looked to the outskirts of the party. She looks to the right of the mansion where high bushed stand and lead into the President's garden. And standing in the opening of the hedge is none other than the President himself.
Snow.
He, like Katniss, wasn't looking at the skies. He was looking exactly at Katniss.
Snow was looking at Katniss.
He, as the fireworks began to slowly die down, nods his head back toward the garden behind him before disappearing into the hedges. And Katniss, she mumbles soft words to those who surround her, excuses to say the least, before making her way through the crowd and into the hedges.