A/N: Trigger Warning for attempted rape in Janie's POV
~Krissa Osten: Three of Diamonds~
I travel through time in my dreams that night.
I start out at home, Maddie coming in and looking radiantly happy. "You look happy," my mother comments cooly. Donavan looks up from where he was sitting on the floor, obviously trying not to burst with the question.
"I am happy!" Maddie says, doing a little twirl. I feel a smile break across my lips. "Manuel proposed! And I said yes!" Don jumps up, as he was dying to ask, and hugs her. "Oh, yay!"
"We're going to be planning a wedding!" Maddie says.
"Are you really sure you want to marry at such a young age?" quizzes my father. He really is well-intentioned, it's not malicious or judgmental when he asks it. Just… Curious.
"If it were anyone else but Manuel I might hesitate. But we've been dating for two years, will-be three by the time I'm 18 and we can be wed. But…" she smiles. "I can't imagine spending the rest of my life with anyone but him."
When Don finally lets her go, I get up and give my younger sister a hug. Most older sisters might be jealous of their younger sisters being married first, but I'm really just happy for my sister. My parents both hug Maddie.
"How about you, Krissa?" Maddie asks, causing me to look up.
"Huh?"
"How are you? Y'know, in that respect?"
"Of romance?" My ears go red. "I, uh, haven't really thought of it much."
"Isn't there someone at school? Anyone at all?"
"Nobody really sticks out to me." My family is more concerned for my romantic well-being than I am. For now, I'm really perfectly happy not being in a romantic relationship. "How about you, Don?" I tease, ruffling his hair. "Any girls out there getting your attention? Surely at least one of them out there has a thing for you."
He giggles. "You're changing the subject Krissa!"
Maddie throws her head back and lets out a carefree, happy, good-humored laugh. "You have plenty of time to find the ones for you," she promises. "You deserve to love well, and to be loved well."
"Right. We have to focus on wedding plans now!" I say, patting Maddie's head. More giggling ensues.
In a place of darkness, it's nice to have at least one nice memory to hold on to. It's fairly fresh, too. It reminds me why I have to get home. In my dream, I travel more through time and end up in a fairly unexpected place.
I'm standing on the balcony outside, the night after chariot rides. I'm standing by myself, glancing up and wondering if the 12 tributes get the full roof because they're on top. I'm looking at the stars, hard to see compared to back home (because of all the light that's here) and thinking about how clear the sky and stars must be to my family back home.
They saw me tonight, and I hope I did them proud. I hope the District looked at their TV screens and thought that they might have a winner. Even if they don't want to get their hopes up.
I look out at the city, more expansive and colorful and bright than I could've ever dreamed. It's surely a culture shock for a girl from District 11 to be here. I hear tiny, ever-so-soft footsteps that somehow I know to be very accustomed to sneaking around. I look up and see nothing. Part of me wants to say something, but the other part doesn't want to, so I keep my mouth shut.
I turn back out to look at the city. When I turn around to look again, I see him peeking out from behind a wall. "It's alright," I say quietly, barely loud enough for him to hear. "You can come out and look. I don't mind."
He comes out slowly, only when I'm not looking behind me. He takes a seat, holding onto the rails of the balcony and letting his legs dangle over the edge. I glance over, surprised to see his bangs hanging down for once and still bright red.
"The dye didn't wash out," I say, surprised.
"Guess it's permanent," he says, his eyes focused on the city, not even looking over. "They had to put real-life bleach in my hair to get it to be this color. Did you know that?"
"No. Wow." He paws with the shaggy bangs hanging in his eyes and doesn't say anything for a while. I decide not to bother him, leaning against the railing and watching the city. It seems to never black out, never go to sleep. It's really pretty amazing.
He speaks up after a while of watching the city, in a small, timid, quiet voice. "Did… You get a visit from my brother?"
"Hm?"
He picks at his fingernails, looking straight down calmly, something that makes my stomach turn to think about. "My older brother. Daxton. Tall, dark hair like me, likes to wear his cargo jacket all the time?"
"Oh." Right. "Well, no, he didn't come and visit me. But I know who he is of course." I really should've connected Daxton Dietz to his little brother. Although I'm sure Vardaman probably hasn't connected me and Don yet either. How horribly ironic this is. Daxton is all-around pretty nice and nobody really hates him for any particular reason. He's a pretty avid smoker, though, and sometimes he gets really disconnected.
"He said he wasn't sure if he was going to go or not. Guess he decided it was best to only grieve once."
My heart sinks at that word. I wish with all my heart that it didn't have to be like this. "Is… Is there a reason he didn't volunteer for you?" I might have pushed too far, I realize.
"He says he froze up. I told him I wouldn't have wanted him to anyways. I told him I'd rather die than be left with our par… Er, I'd rather die than be left without him. He's still taking it hard, I'm sure, beating himself up over it. Nothing I say will console him. He's just going to have to figure it out himself."
"Your home life isn't very good, is it?" I ask him gently. He freezes up and now I think I've pushed him too far. He gets up, giving one last glance down to the city before he quickly walks back to his room. I hear him go into a run once he's out of sight.
It was pretty obvious to most of the students that Dax had a rough life at home. He was too amiable to get into any kind of fights or anything, and yet ended up injured. Some people believed he was just a clutz, sure, but…
Oh well. It's not really healthy for me to think about it now. After all, to get back to my family, I have to see him die.
I retire back to my own room, resisting the teacher-instinct I have to check on him and apologize.
It's hard, though, and I have a very restless night. I feel horrible, like I'm leaving my little brother in the next room, all by himself. I roll over, reminding myself that if I ever want to see my brother again, Vardaman and 23 others are going to have to perish.
I wish I had done something to help him, even though I know that it would've made seeing his face in the sky so much harder.
My mind travels to Juli and Dawn, and how much I cared for them. Then, it goes to Dawson.
I force myself to wake up. I really would rather not think about Dawson. I could see so much of myself in him, really, always looking for ways to protect others and sometimes failing to take care of myself. He was like that too, but didn't have parents that told him to care for himself more like I do.
The sun is just breaking the horizon as I wake up and make myself stretch. It's going to be a long day. The days get longer and longer as the Games go. Yesterday, we were taken down to the final 8 with the death of Ori from District 8. Which means that my family is (or was) interviewed about me. I wonder how it went. I wonder who was talked to. I guess I won't know until I get out of here.
I see a parachute coming from the sky, falling gently, and remember that this is a still a fight and I'm getting closer and closer to home. I make my way to the parachute and open it, looking inside.
Inside, I see a big, generous first-aid kit. I immediately take a seat, caring for the wound on my leg, That takes some of the morning, before I take a knife and hunt for lunch. I know that, especially in this time of the Games, making a fire is risky, but I decide that a good meal that gives me energy is worth the risk. I'm not great at skinning, but I'm able to get meat and cook it, even if it's pretty burnt. It still tastes pretty good.
Then, I pack up my stuff and decide to stretch my muscles on a trip to the spring to replenish my water supply. I look at the ground as I walk, afraid that if I look around too much memories of my allies will come back. Seeing poor little Juli and Dawn's faces in the sky is something I never want to relive. They were so special, and somehow we were able to share laughter together in the darkness of the Arena.
I wish I had been able to protect Juli better at the Cornucopia. She was so sweet, always had something nice to say. I wish I would've known how to help Dawn. Nobody could do anything to stop her.
Sometimes I wonder if it was sabotage from the boys, but then I remember how Ori looked at his District partner and immediately know that it really was an accident and I can't villainize anyone about it. They never meant for anyone to be killed. I look up by mistake at the beach and relive that horrific moment when she was falling and we couldn't do a thing about it. Looking back at the others, the look of horror on Ori's face, the small gasp that came from Dawson…
I didn't get to spend as much time with Caledonia as I did with the others, but she was such a sweet person that definitely didn't deserve that fate. The look on Dawson's face when he realized what had happened and that we had to keep moving… It breaks my heart, even to this day.
Amazing that these memories contain so many empty spirits. So many of the people I remember laughing with, talking to, getting to know, are laying lifeless in wooden boxes, preparing to go home to a District in mourning.
I already touched on Dawson, but the amount of maturity he had was too much for a 15-year-old, and yet he seemed to handle it well. He was a protector by nature, taking on Caledonia and fighting for both of them, and of course the stories he told during his interview… I can't look at these towering palm trees without seeing them crumbling down and hearing my ally tell me it was okay to leave him and run away… In less than an hour the Arena was perfectly back to normal again, but the memories are so vivid and fresh it feels like they could all happen again at any second.
I refill my canteen and drink before I make haste to get out of there, walking until my injury forces me to sit. I adjust the bandage, have a shabby lunch, and spend the rest of the afternoon sitting and twisting the pearl ring used as my token around my finger. This ring used to belong to my great grandmother. I begged Maddie to keep it, use it as her wedding ring, pass it on to her children, but she refused. She said, "You can give it back when you come home." She had tears streaming down her face, but she meant it. She wrapped my fingers around it and I nodded a bit.
I spend the rest of the afternoon and evening trying to focus on happy memories of me and my family and avoid the traumatic memories of the past week or two, as hard as it is.
~.~.
~January Denali: Ace of Clubs~
I toss and turn in my sleep, trapped in a memory kind of nightmare that I can't get out of. That's how it felt at the time, too. Even though I know what's coming, I still feel helpless, trapped, suffocating.
It starts out normal enough.
Energetic and excited, off the high of adrenaline and victory from volunteering, the first night in the Capitol, the shining lights of chariot rides, being applauded, treated like a celebrity… I was in a really good mood. And certainly not in the mood to sleep. Not at all!
I wash the black gunk out of my hair and change into the comfiest pair of PJs there (which are hella comfortable if you were wondering.) before going out to get a snack before bed (even though they won't let us eat dessert. Which offends me horribly. Sometimes a girl just needs her chocolate, alright?!).
When I go out there, I see my mentor Priam, getting himself some hot chocolate. "Yo," he says, pouring the yummy-smelling liquid into a mug.
"Hi," I say, watching him get marshmallows to put on it. "Can't you get an Avox to do that for you?"
"I could. But I don't like to. Only I know how I like it."
"How's that?"
He looks over at me with a grin, stirring it around with his spoon. "Spiked."
I sigh, crossing my arms. "You'd better not be drunk when I need you. You're my mentor."
"Oh, relax. I'm competent when I'm drunk."
"You'd better. Not. Be. Drunk." I use a deathly threatening voice and he puts his hands up in surrender, nodding quickly. "Yeah, fine, alright. I'll be sober."
"Thank you."
I decide on a glass of water and an apple, and start back to my room, him following.
"Is your room this way?" I don't think it is.
"Yeah, it's right down the hall." I didn't know that, but nod and keep walking. I go into my room, and hear his heavy footsteps continue behind me.
"Priam-"
His grizzly, rough lips press against me before I know what's going on. I shove him back. "What the hell is your problem!?" I ask. "You're my mentor, remember!?"
"Yeah, that means I'm in charge." He presses me against the wall by the shoulders.
"Priam, this is stupid. Let me go. I don't like you like that, not even close." I try to be mature and sensible, and it gets me nowhere.
"Listen, kid. I'm a Victor. Everyone wants it. Now why don't you just shut your pretty little mouth and let me do the dirty work?" He presses his lips to my neck and suck, probably hoping to leave his mark me. I wiggle and struggle, getting a kick to his gut. Enough to make him stop, but he's too strong to me. If only he hadn't caught me off guard I could've never let him trap me. I growl and try to get control, but he's way too strong. He pulls off his top and starts mine. I make it as hard for him if I can.
"Man, you just won't stay still, will you?"
"I'm not letting you do this to me!" I tell him, spitting in his face. He just laughs. "There's nothing I like more than a challenge, Slut." He manages to get the top off and unties my PJ bottoms, taking them next. I grit my teeth, fighting back as best as I can, but he's obviously done this before, well enough to know the best way to go about it.
"You won't get away with this. I won't let you!" I struggle against him.
"I'm pretty damn close, though, don't you think?" he asks, laughing. I feel nothing but pure hatred in that moment, fighting as hard as I can. I feel trapped, suffocating against him, unable to fight him off.
Suddenly I hear a wild yell come from the doorway and Priam is thrown off me with a grunt of surprise. Pontifex, booty-shorts and all (honestly I didn't have to know that's what he slept in, too much information really, but in that moment I was so relieved I didn't care what he was wearing) is on top of Priam and punching him in the face before I know what's going on.
"Pontifex, wait!" He stops, his hair actually shagged in his face instead of styled up. He looks up at me. "What?"
I smile a bit, I can't help it. "I want to knock him out." He nods a bit, getting off of Priam and letting me give the final kick to the face.
"Nicely done," Pontifex says, his voice trying so hard to be devoid of emotion.
"Thank you." I quickly put the PJ's back on. "I…" I hang my head, not sure what to say to him to express my gratitude. I couldn't have stopped him on my own. "…Thank you." I know I said it already but I feel the need to say it again. My District partner is known for being mean and bitter, but maybe there's something there after all. Even if nobody else sees it… There might just be something there.
"Mhm." He gets down and looks like he's preparing to lift Priam by himself.
"Hold it. I'll get his head, you can get his feet." He nods a bit. "Alright." Together, we carry Priam back to his room and throw him (pretty carelessly) on the bed. Then, we walk back to our rooms.
"You're gonna be okay?" he asks.
"Yeah," I say quietly, "I'll be alright."
"Right." Before I stop myself, I give him a quick hug. "Thank you."
"Don't think this means anything, Denali," he says, crossing his arms. "I'm not sharing mentors with you or anything."
"That's… Fine. Thank you so much." There's a pause. "Ponty."
He rolls his eyes. "Yeah, yeah. Go to bed already," he says gruffly, leaving. I see something like a small smile crack across his lips as he shuffles out of the room, picking Priam's clothes up on the way. I find myself smiling. I shower again, to get rid of the touch of Priam's dry, calloused fingers, and try to forget. I lie awake in bed, tossing and turning, not hungry enough to eat anything. The memory sticks, I see it every time I close my eyes. I try to focus on the contradictory character of Pontifex, but every memory route I take ends up right back to where it started. I don't feel safe, I wrap myself up in a tight cocoon of blankets even though I'm roasting. I want to hide away. I vow to never be dominated in a battle again in my life, no matter how long or short that may be.
I finally pull myself out of the dream, rubbing my eyes and realizing that the sun's already high in the sky. I make myself get up, feeling groggy and upset, and wishing I can find Pontifex, or even Dream. If Dream even wants to keep the alliance, that is. I keep telling myself that it's likely he will fight me if we meet again, assuming that the alliance is permanently dissolved. But after how I was faring in the one-on-one battle with Tristabelle (which is another nightmare for another day), I don't want the alliance to be gone quite yet.
I see a sponsor parachute floating down and quickly get up to grab it. When I open it, I find a small, pretty basic first-aid kit addressed to me. I smile, tending to some of the wounds left by Tristabelle and the mutts that came by. They weren't interested in me as much as they were in someone else in the distance, though.
I already feel better and cleaner now that most of my wounds (though not all quite yet) are clean and bandaged, and even get up to start moving.
I walk around a bit, looking for food to hunt, when I hear footsteps behind me and whirl around. He looks tired, hair messier than ever, with dark circles under his eyes.
"Dream." I try to stay calm, waiting for him to make the first move, fight or ally again.
"Hi Janie." He puts his hatchet away, and I walk over to meet him.
"I'm so glad I found you," I say, letting myself smile and feel happy that I found at least one of them again. He smiles back.
"How'd you find me!?" I ask.
He scratches the back of his neck. "Half pure luck, half the boy from 3 pointing me in the right direction." I know Dream knows Gio's name, but he's refraining from calling tributes by their names in hopes that by seeing them as numbers instead of names, it'll be easier to take them out. I get where he's coming from.
"Do you know if he found Att- the boy from 10?" I ask. Because I pointed him in the direction of Gio to repay him for saving me from Tristabelle, but I don't say that out loud. I know that Dream is waiting to find the boy from District 10 and get proper revenge for Empress.
"No. Not when I found him. He was alone. I probably should've killed him, but-"
"It's okay. Don't worry about it. Hopefully we can wipe out some more of the tributes before splitting up for good." And find Ponty, I think. But I don't say that out loud either.
"You look tired. Didn't sleep last night?"
He shakes his head. "Barely slept, and didn't get any kind of proper rest."
"You can go to sleep. I'll keep watch."
"Are you sure?"
"Yeah. We can start hunting again tonight or tomorrow."
He nods. "Sounds good." We find a good place to sit, and he lays down and is almost immediately asleep. We're into the final 8, which means that our families and friends are being talked to sometime today or tomorrow, or maybe yesterday. My older brother Magnus was in the final 8, so I know I can't let my guard down just because I made it here.
I'm determined to get home.
Dream wakes up around the late afternoon, and we have lunch and dinner together. It's nice to have company. The rest of the day goes by with no cannons, and by the time it gets dark, that's a bit of a relief. Now all we need is Pontifex and we can take this Arena by storm. For Empress.
For the first time since we were separated, I'm able to lay down and go into a deep, restful, dreamless sleep.
~.~.
A/N: To Dreamer and Hope: I hope you liked seeing your girls' POVs! They were so much fun to write, I hope I did them justice!
I started a new poll for who should be the Victor, so if you haven't voted for back I invite you to go over and give a vote! I honestly have no idea who it will be so that will help my decision! I hope you go vote!
Alright, so there are going to be new prices on this chapter and I'll do another has/needs for the tributes left next chapter! Also, I'm adding another item to the list that might be pretty important, so check that out!
Chapter Question: Did you like the POVs of submitted tributes? How did you like the memories provided?
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): 14
Large Canteen (empty): 17
Battery (for flashlight/lanterns): 20
Blanket: 25
Suglasses: 25
Pair of floaties: 27
Compass: 30
Simple foods (bags of jerky, crackers, or dried fruit): 35
Pillow: 35
Functioning Flashlight: 33
Intertube/Raft: 35
Small Canteen (with water): 40
Sunscreen: 40
Well-functioning Lantern (will not burn out): 40
Basic First-Aid Kit: 40
Snorkel/Pair of Goggles: 40
Socks/shoes/shirts/extra articles of clothing: 42
Sunhat: 40
Two-person raft: 52
Fishing Rod: 57
Iodine (to disinfect water): 60
Large Canteen (with water): 60
High-Quality Food (bread from a District, meat, broth/soup): 67
Materials to make salt water into fresh water: 67
Knife: 70
Four-person raft: 72
Functioning Sleeping Bag: 77
A page with the one thing friends/family would say to given tribute if given the chance: 80
Tribute's Favorite Capitol Meal: 82
Large raft (can carry up to 6): 97
Medicine: 100
Complex First-Aid Kit: 100
Tribute's weapon of choice: 107
Scores:
Kate: 193
Dreamer: 146
Jess: 251
magicharity: 163
hopefuldreamer1991: 50
Sinfonian Legend: 215
xQueen-of-Applesx: 40
Lady Lysa Arryn: 56
rising-balloons: 75
superneet1214: 6
: 5
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