~Pontifex: King of Spades~
"So, like that?" I asked, looking at the order of posters on my wall. Thatcher was laying on my bed like he owned the place, examining the order.
"Hm…" He scratched his chin in thought, flipping upside down as he did so. "Ha. The Four boy looks more attractive from upside down. Looks like he's smiling instead of scowling.
"Should I switch him, then?"
Thatcher thought. Then he shook his head and sat up again. "No, the 1 boy's still got him beat."
"So, how's that then?" Thatcher nodded in approval. And there you have it, the tributes of the 1stHunger Games, in order from most attractive to least. When we made these lists, I'd found that Careers almost always come first (I mean, most of them are really stunning) (and hell, One boys have the brightest smiles) (oh, insert boob comment here…?), then the muscular and confident boys, then girls, then the young ones last. It's kind of the pattern.
I look at the lists we made. They were almost in perfect order by District. Almost.
"Is it unhealthy that our number one is usually a Career guy?" I asked, biting my lip.
"Nah," said Thatcher, "I can admit that those guys are mighty attractive and still have a clear conscience." I had no idea how he was able to keep his cool like that. Must've been a Thatcher thing.
"If you're sure."
We sat back and looked at the posters on the wall. I always tried to forget that many of them were dead.
"It's a bit unsettling, isn't it?" Thatcher asked. I thought he could read minds.
"Yeah…"
I'm still not entirely sure if we were bad people for ranking the deceased in terms of looks or not. But if I were a dead person, I don't think I'd mind being first place on someone's hot tributes list.
"What do you think is attractive?" he asked me.
"Confidence. And big smiles. And winking. And that hot nerd look."
"I can do that." He flashed me a grin.
I chucked a pillow at him. "Shut the hell up."
But I laughed.
I wake up with a start, blinking and looking around. The room is dark. I'm just getting lost now. Lost in memories of the past.
I know where this story is going, and I don't want it to go there.
I roll around intentionally, trying to make myself move more than think, trying to stay awake.
Soon, though, my body betrays me, and my heavy eyes close and I go right back into a sleep full of painful dreams.
It was a rare thing to see Thatcher Culbertson cry.
But he was that night. When we were sitting on the stairs of his front porch. His house was completely empty, the autumn wind was blowing cold on our faces but he didn't have the heart to do anything, much less get up and go inside.
"You did the right thing." I was being the world's biggest hypocrite. I know I helped him away from someone that abused him, but I didn't ever have the courage to do it myself.
"Then why doesn't it feel like it?" His voice caught. He stared at his hands as if they had done something absolutely horrendous.
"She hurt you, Thatcher. It was the right thing to do."
"But I loved her. She was the only thing I had left."
"It was still the right thing."
The leaves blew in front of us, the sky dim and gray and making everything appear at least two shades dimmer and darker in color.
"She might be going to jail. And it's all my fault."
"Thatcher. Quiet."
"It'd all be because of me, Pontifex… This was a bad idea."
It wasn't a bad idea. She hurt him and forced him to break down to his knees and sob. He had nightmares about her, the things she said and did to him. He needed to get out of there.
My father is bad, but he isn't that awful. Thatcher needed to get out of there.
"The house is so empty without her."
"She hurt you."
"So!? Your father hurts you, too!"
I didn't know what to say to that. He was right.
"I'm not as strong as you, Thatcher."
"That's a joke."
He was still on the verge of tears, so I pulled him into my arms. He was warm and shaking, his eyes on the ground as tears threatened to drip out of them. His eyes were the bluest I'd ever seen. Ice blue that could lure you in and just as easily freeze your soul with one sour look. I had never in my life felt Thatcher to be so real.
He had always been my best friend, but he was also my hero. A figurehead, always making jokes. Cracking wise-ones and waggling his eyebrows. Bright eyes, a bright smile, hands-on-his-hips, winning-attitude Thatcher. Football player, but shy and modest.
In that moment, he became a real person. Someone with weaknesses. Someone who cried. Someone who was insecure and unsure of who he was. Someone who didn't know all the answers, someone who tried to save the world when he couldn't even save himself. And, in that moment, I thought him to be even more beautiful.
We sat like that until the stars came out and soon disappeared behind dark black clouds, the bright yellow moon shadowed by them. He sniffled and sat up, wiping his cheeks and looking up at me for the first time since we called the cops on his mother.
"Someday… Someday I'm going to free you from your father. I promise it."
I shook my head, he nodded. "I already promised."
"The only thing I need you to promise is that we'll always be friends," I said quietly. Being alone was a lot more scary a thought than facing my father.
He held eye-contact and nodded a bit. "Alright. I promise you that no matter what happens, we will always stick together. Through thick and thin."
I nod. "I'll always have your back."
"Good. I've got yours, too." Through all the shit and darkness and sadness he was going through, the bastard smiled. He flashed me one of those goddamn, toothy, Thatcher smiles.
"Thanks, Pontifex. I should… Be getting to bed."
He stood and held his hands out to me, helping me stand. Then he held onto my hands, he didn't let them go. He rubbed my knuckles with his thumbs. Neither of us said a word.
Damn.
I wanted Thatcher Culbertson to kiss me.
It wasn't the first time, either. But this time I couldn't deny the feeling any longer. I couldn't make excuses. I couldn't try to mask it in a feeling of no homofriendship. There was no more place left for me to run.
All I wanted was for Thatcher to guide my chin up to his smile with his goddamn fingers and kiss me right there.
I wanted it so badly.
After a long silence between us, he dropped my hands. He nodded a bit, and then turned and quickly walked into his house. I stood there watched him go, and the moment was lost.
I guess I never considered it, but that's another reason I want to get home. All I want is to apologize. He deserved better.
He deserved so much better than me.
He got out of that house, though. He got into a foster family, and after a while changed his last name to Tillett to fit in with them. He had a new step-sister named Khione. She looked close enough to be related to him, with her long, wavy black hair and bright blue eyes. She didn't like me, and made it very clear behind Thatcher's back that she wouldn't take to someone like me hanging around her new little brother.
Very slowly and gradually, she took him away from me. It was so gradual he didn't even notice. He later invited me to a party, that Khione and her friends were hosting. I promised I'd stay down-to-earth and sober to protect him from doing anything regretful. I just took some of the punch that was there instead of alcohol. Someone spiked the drink, and before I could tell I was drunk off my ass.
It was an awful way to lose your virginity. Drunk enough for both of us to think it was a good idea. He didn't' remember that, though, and if he did he refused it to be the truth. He blamed it on me and left. He didn't even listen to me when I tried to explain.
Khione may not have been the one to end our friendship, but she made him into a completely different, harsh, unforgiving person. His only goal was to beat me out for the spot to volunteer, but he never did and eventually gave it up.
He was my first lost love, and the crash of our friendship made the rest of my life blow up and collapse into hell. I couldn't trust anyone's words and promises. The word "friend" brought back bad memories instead of good. I never trusted the hollow aspect of friendship again. I never let anyone in again. Never opened up. It just hurts too much. All friendship's good for is broken promises.
I wouldn't let my brothers try to save us from our father. Any time the house was investigated I lied and got rid of all the evidence. There's no way I would ever trust a foster family. There's no way I was going to let my brothers and I become like Thatcher. I was so angry at him, at myself. It was all my fault.
I wake up to Empress and Dream waking Katherine and Janie to take watch. I don't want to go back to sleep. I don't want to relive the horrors of my life falling apart.
I sit up. "I'll watch," I say. The others look over, surprised.
"Ponty… You're awake…" Janie says.
"Are you sure?" Dream asks. It's been a long day, I've bled out, a lot of effort and work and turmoil… I don't care. I can stay awake.
"Okay… If you're sure… I'll stay awake," Janie yawns.
"You sure?" Katherine asks softly. "I can."
"I'm sure."
"Wake me if you need me."
I still can't get used to seeing my allies with the big, red bumps on their bodies. Mine itch like hell sometimes, and it takes everything in me to not scratch them raw.
Soon, the others are asleep and breathing peacefully, Jane and I sitting awake.
"Hey Ponty…" she says quietly, messing with a whistle tied around her neck.
"Hm?"
"What did you see?"
I look over. "Huh?"
"When you were under. From those weird beestings. What'd you see? I saw some… Unpleasant stuff." She shifts, holding the whistle in her palm and looking slightly pained.
"Me too." That's all I'm going to say. That's all I can say.
"It was awful. I…I almost couldn't get myself to wake up. I can't imagine what you…" She looks over at me, trailing off. The night breeze moves her hair around, but her hands don't leave that whistle. I'm sure it's connected to her memories.
"I was fine." There's a pause, and I talk in a quiet voice. "I'm used to dealing with shit. I just saw everything that caused my life to fall apart. I have to deal with that all the time, so it's just all in another day's work."
"Oh, Ponty…" she says quietly.
"Sh. It's fine." I wrap my hand around the sharp shard of glass I chose to bring in as a token. I saw this memory, too. Getting hit over the head with a glass bottle of alcohol for the first time. Usually tokens represent that which you love to motivate tributes, but this one represents something I hate. It motivates me in the same way, though.
She puts a hand on my shoulder, but doesn't talk. Eventually she starts to yawn.
"You okay?"
"Yeah. I didn't sleep very much with the other two on watch. Y'know. Because of…" Tia. I don't need to say it out loud to show her I know what she means.
"Wake up Katherine. Get some rest," I tell her.
"You'll be okay? Not awkward or anything?"
"Mhm."
"Okay." She crawls over to Katherine and wakes her up. Soon Janie lies down and she's really asleep, I can tell.
Katherine sits next to me, smiling ever-so-slightly as the breeze hits her face. "I'll be right back," she says, getting up and walking into the bushes. I know that means taking a nighttime piss, but she and the others are too polite to say that. She comes back and sits next to me again, seeming calmer.
"How are you feeling?" she asks softly. "Okay?"
"Yeah. Better than this morning, that's for sure."
"Good." she smiles. We sit in silence for a while as the gray sky starts ever-so-slightly brightening. It's gotta be just 2 or 3, though. The silence between us is only broken by the sounds of trees blowing in the breeze.
Suddenly, she jumps. "Did you hear that!?"
"Huh?"
"There was a rustle in the bushes…" she says, looking slightly alarmed. Cover me. She creeps toward some of the deeper, jungle-ish trees and bushes. I follow, holding the knife we had close by, alarmed. She goes out further and further.
"There's obviously nothing here," I say, "We should probably-"
Before I can continue, her whole weight is on top of me and we start rolling on the ground. By her weight she's able to get us farther away from camp. She has me in an expert death grip, so tight I can't even move my arms or anything of the sort. How the hell was she able to do this!? The knife is taken from my hand in my surprise.
Katherine Tracey smiles down at me, and I realize that we've all been horribly tricked.
"Surprised?" she asks, smiling in me, reveling in my shock and strain. I don't answer her but it doesn't stop her from talking. "You think my mother, Lucina Bristow, would let her daughter even have a chance for being reaped without at least twenty strategies close at hand?" she asks. I struggle. "I played dumb, and you all took the bait like catfish. It was so easy to convince you I'm nothing but sweet little girl that can't even carry an axe."
I strain to fight against her weight on me. "The others are going to murder you," I promise, practically spitting.
"The others aren't going to have any clue it was me. I'm going to come back teary and covered in blood and tell them that Atticus Hollow came and killed you, and I tried to fight back but to no avail."
In a fit of rage, I try to send us rolling again, but she holds on remarkably well. "Why Hollow!?" I ask, rage exploding in my voice.
"Because, dear Pontifex, he's the most likely to be able to do it. Besides, I'm sure you'll love to know that your allies and friends will think you were murdered by the person you hate the most: until they suffer the same fate. Besides, it'll just get another strong one off my back in the name of vengeance."
"You're despicable," I say, spitting at her with the word. She reopens the cut from earlier, causing me to groan and do everything to not show the pain.
"I'm just playing the Game," she says, smiling sweetly.
In that moment, I close my eyes and let out a loud, morbid laugh. "I was right!" I say, letting the laughter tear out of me as violently as I can. It's kind of a weak scare-tactic, but right now I just let it go. "I told them never to trust you, and I was right all along! You are a true bitch, and I was right!" I laugh louder than I screamed under her knife.
She tilts her head slightly to the side, showing me how the knife glints with my blood in the moonlight. "You laughed at me and were condescending and rude. So, in your last moments I'm going to torture some information out of you," she says, the smirkish smile widening. Her blue eyes sparkle with something close to insanity, but also close to childish glee and joy. "Let's start with your lost love. Thalia? You think we're stupid, Pontifex?"
I grit my teeth as she runs the knife down my arm. "You will not break me. I'm stronger than you and anyone else here."
She runs the knife around my eye, a circle ranging from just under my eyebrow around to the bridge of my nose. "But that's because, among the bunch of us, you're the one that's been abused. You're the one that people all hate, and for good reason. You bring all your shit upon yourself, dear Pontifex. That's why you have no one."
I try to shut out her words, but just like my Dad's and Thatcher's and my other bullies, it doesn't help. They still get to me. "Besides, I would think that you would know the name of the first one to break your heart. So why are you hiding, it, Pontifex? Why don't you tell me about it?"
"I'm not telling you anything about Thatcher!" as soon as I say it I know it's a mistake.
Katherine looks shocked, but satisfied. "Oooooh, so that's why! It all makes sense now! The reason you're so secretive, the reason you weren't moved by my charm… It's because you're a faggot, isn't it?! And that's why you were hiding! You're insecure of how you completely fucked it up with your beautiful Thatcher, and why your whole District is rooting against you!"
She continues to run her knife across my skin, but it doesn't hurt. Nothing hurts anymore.
Memories come back. Painful memories, of words shouted at me by the people I invested everything into. Broken promises, destroyed relationships, words that meant nothing in the first place gone back on… It's all my fault. Their pain and suffering, all the reasons my life is shit, it's all on me. I can't do anything to change any of it. I can't bring Mom back, or Atlas, I can't help them, I can't make things right, because it's too late for me to have any chance at real happiness.
Because.
I'm.
Too.
Fucking.
Weak.
I start to feel exhausted, weak, fatigued. Tears come to my eyes and roll down my cheeks, stinging the cut around my eye as they go.
She got me.
I give up.
Suddenly, the weight is swept off me with a piercing scream.
"You think you can get away with hurting him!? You thought you could get away with his death!? You thought we wouldn't notice?!" Dream sounds rabid. Empress and Janie help me up. Janie's crying quietly. "I'm sorry Ponty," she hiccups quietly, "I'm so sorry Ponty…" She and Empress start with the smaller wounds while Dream deals with Katherine, giving her just a painful death with his hatchet as she was prepared to give me with her knife. This time she can't fight back, though.
"I'm so sorry… I'm sorry Ponty… I'm so sorry Ponty…" Janie whispers, over and over again, as she tends to the cuts. With one last scream, a cannon booms, and like that the nightmare is all over.
Dream opens up the First-Aid kit, tending to my wounds with a surprisingly gentle hand considering what he'd just done to Katherine.
Janie puts my head in my lap, looking at me with sad, concerned eyes. Any traces of tears are gone, though.
Just like that, I'm out. Exposed. I cracked, I broke, and now it's all out there. No more hiding, or pretending. It's all thanks to my own weakness.
"I'm sorry Pontifex," Empress says. "I… I didn't know all that-"
"Shut up. I dunno how much you heard but I don't want to know." The look in Janie's eyes tells me that she heard the bit about Thatcher. Nobody says anything about me being out, and I'm really grateful for that.
Dream takes some more stuff out of the first-aid kit.
"Hey, don't use all that up on me. It's yours."
"I'm not." I still think he might be. I sit still as he bandages and pats, as much as it hurts, nothing I could imagine will hurt as much as what just happened.
"I'm just glad you're okay," Janie says quietly, brushing bangs away from my eyes.
"Don't worry about me. I've been through wo-" I stop myself. I don't want to make them any more concerned than they already are. "I'll… I'll be okay."
"It was our mistake," Dream says, sounding unsettled. "We shouldn't have let our guard down on her." The fact still remains that we're going to have to turn on each other sometime. I don't want to, but it's going to have to happen. We can't all four be Victors. Thinking about it unsettles me, so I try to focus on any positive I can find. I can't really find one.
"Sleep, Pontifex," Empress says quietly. "Get a couple more hours of sleep before the sun rises."
I know that sleep will be plagued with nightmares, but I can't fight it. I'll just have to man up and deal with it.
I close my eyes and fall into a deep black sleep.
.
When I wake up next, the sun is high in the sky. For once, the sleep was dreamless.
"Ponty, you're awake!" Janie says, "Good morning!"
"Uh, hi," I say, stretching.
"Look what we got," she says, handing me a thermos. Empress and Dream help me sit up. I really wish these three would stop being so unproblematic and helpful. After all, we are the Career alliance.
I look up. "What'd we get?"
"Another sponsor," she says, smiling. "We decided to wait until you woke up see what it is." Her face looks very pink, and the beestings on her body are red and swollen, like mine.
"Uh, okay." She and Empress open it and pull out a bottle first.
"Hm… I think I know what this is," Janie says, considering.
"Sunscreen, I believe," Dream says. He squirts some of it onto his hand and his point is validated. "Yup! This should help with that burn. Or at least prevent it from getting any worse. He starts applying it while Janie and Empress go back to the container.
"Oh my God, look at this!" She pulls out this huge-ass, floppy, blue striped sunhat with a floppy brim. "It's so funny!" She puts it on her head.
I'm glad everyone is in higher spirits than the other day. I slowly but surely get to my feet. Good thing Katherine didn't do too deep knife-work. Delicate, filleting me like a fish. Great.
"Adorable!" Empress giggles.
"Stunning," Dream says, a blunt sarcasm in his tone. He hands off the sunscreen as Janie dances around in her floppy hat.
"Would you like to wear it, Ponty?" She asks, plopping it on my head. It must make a hilarious image.
"You can have it," I assure her. "I'm sure it looks better on you." She giggles and puts it back on. Empress hands me the sunscreen after applying it, and I hand it to Janie last. Good thing it's a pretty big bottle, because it's going to have to last four people for who knows how many days.
"We have some breakfast ready," Empress says. Janie puts a hand on my shoulder.
"C'mon, Ponty. Let's eat."
A/N: I just joined a 24 Authors 24 Tributes collaboration, and we still need authors, so if you have a lot of time on your hands and are interested in writing. Here's the link to the forum for all who are interested (minus spaces): www . fanfiction forum /Troubled –Souls - 24- Tributes- and- 24- Authors / 182086 /
If you don't have time, you can still read the story. In fact, that's what I'm going to be writing next. Here's the link to that: www . fanfiction s /11418941 /1 /Troubled –Souls –The -97th –Annual –Hunger –Games
Alright, I think that's all I've got for now. There will be a points increase now.
Chapter Question: What were your thoughts on Katherine Tracey before the chapter? How about after?
NEW COSTS OF ITEMS:
Here are the objects you will be able to send to tributes! If you want to provide anything that is not seen on the list, shoot me a PM and I'll help you out!
Bandages: 12
Small Canteen (Empty): 12
Large Canteen (empty): 15
Battery (for flashlight/lanterns): 19
Blanket: 22
Suglasses: 22
Pair of floaties: 27
Compass: 27
Simple foods (bags of jerky, crackers, or dried fruit): 30
Pillow: 32
Functioning Flashlight: 32
Small Canteen (with water): 35
Intertube/Raft: 32
Sunscreen: 37
Well-functioning Lantern (will not burn out): 37
Basic First-Aid Kit: 37
Snorkel/Pair of Goggles: 37
Socks/shoes/shirts/extra articles of clothing: 37
Sunhat: 39
Two-person raft: 52
Fishing Rod: 55
Iodine (to disinfect water): 57
Large Canteen (with water): 57
High-Quality Food (bread from a District, meat, broth/soup): 65
Knife: 65
Materials to make salt water into fresh water: 67
Four-person raft: 72
Functioning Sleeping Bag: 75
Tribute's Favorite Capitol Meal: 82
Medicine: 95
Complex First-Aid Kit: 95
Large raft (can carry up to 6): 97
Tribute's weapon of choice: 105
SPONSOR SCORES:
Kate: 160
Dreamer: 173
Jess: 181
magicharity: 163
hopefuldreamer1991: 27
Sinfonian Legend: 225
xQueen-of-Applesx: 40
Lady Lysa Arryn: 51
rising-balloons: 50
Coolgal02: 61
epictomguy: 34
Medium-Indigo (Guest): 60
AbbyCorabby123: 10
falyn. oliver: 43
seaotter99: 22
ThisWorldWeHate: 17
Blonde4ever: 62
Beauty. Is. Strange: 61
Ibbonray: 35