Blaine Abernathy: A Canary Caged

Disclaimer: I do not own The Hunger Games

Last time:

"Because I . . ." I stopped myself, unable to say it. They do not know of the Profit Circle. Half of them wouldn't stand here the next day if they did. I took a deep breath and looked down, "Because I know Seneca better than anyone else! He'll use an opportunity as an advantage when given to him."

Furious, we enter the twelfth floor to find Katniss pinning Peeta to the wall.

Chapter 11: Stay Alive

Blaine's POV

"You had no right! No right to go saying those things about me!" Katniss shouted. Immediately Haymitch and I separated the two. Cinna helped me restrain Katniss from going after Peeta, and Portia helped the boy. Haymitch stood in the middle to ensure they didn't cross. Katniss glared at Haymitch. "This was your idea, wasn't it? Turning me into some kind of fool in front of the entire country?"

"It was my idea," Peeta said, adjusting his blazer. "Haymitch just helped me with it."

"Yes, Haymitch is very helpful. To you!"

"You are a fool," Haymitch said in disgust. "Do you think he hurt you? That boy just gave you something you could never achieve on your own."

"He made me look weak!" Katniss exclaimed, shoving me off her.

I nearly stumbled because of the shoes, except Cinna caught me.

"He made you look desirable! And let's face it, you can use all the help you can get in that department. You were as romantic as dirt until he said he wanted you. Now they all do. You're all they're talking about. The star-crossed lovers from District Twelve!" Haymitch said proudly from his work.

Katniss looked at me, asking if I had a part in this. I shook my head, bewildered at my father's devastating plot to gain sponsors.

"But we're not star-crossed lovers!" Katniss said, only to be grabbed by the shoulders and pinned to the wall by Haymitch.

"Dad!" I shouted; for this was getting out of line.

"Who cares? It'll be a big show. It'll all be how you perceive it. The most I could say about you after your interview was that it was nice enough, although that in itself was a small miracle." Haymitch said that I felt heartbroken to hear what my father talked about all the work Katniss, Cinna, and I put into it. To be called trash. Haymitch saw the hurt I expressed through teary eyes, that he let go of Katniss and back into his easy-going drunk self. "How do you think you're going to get sponsors?"

"He's right, Katniss," Cinna said as he wrapped an arm around me.

"She's just worried about her boyfriend," Peeta said.

Katniss became red, and I stood between the two children. "Enough, both of you. This will get us nowhere! What is done is done. So both of you grow up! Damn it, or so help me, I'll contact the Peacekeepers!"

For heaven's sake, I'm five years older than them. And these two sixteen-year-olds act like their shoe sizes more than their age. Glaring, I told them to go into their rooms and change into comfortable clothing because they were going to bed early after dinner and the recaps. Not caring if it's going to be their last day or not. I just don't want blood on the carpet. Katniss and Peeta nodded, going to their rooms, followed by their stylists. Once up the steps, I glared at Haymitch with Effie's assistance. I don't believe she was a part of this scheme.

"I hope your bloody hell happy!" I yelled. "Look at the mess you made. It will be a miracle if she doesn't kill him tomorrow."

"Why are you so angry?" Haymitch asked in his relaxed voice.

I glared at him. How can he be serious one minute and then smoothed going the next? While I inherited Lucy's temper, it not her serious behavior. You don't know how hard it is not to slap your father to Timbuktu? I gave a groan, stomping my foot.

"Don't you see?" I exclaimed. "You just did not gain sponsors but made them the most wanted of them all. There can only be one damn victor, and now the audience will pray for two victors, or one has to make the noble sacrifice. This isn't a cliché romance. This is a damn war! Have you forgotten what happened in the arena?"

"That's enough, Blaine Maysilee Abernathy," Haymitch snapped. I stopped; he never used my full name unless I was crossing the line. Breaking near the breaking point of his control. I stopped and looked at the ground like a little girl who got scolded. Haymitch sighed, scratching his chin. "You need to understand, Blaine. That Peeta made the decision for Katniss. That boy is blinded by love."

"That he would sacrifice himself for Katniss," I finished, then stared at him in shock. "You chose Katniss, didn't you? Dad, that's not fair."

"What is fair? Haymitch asked.

"They are both equals!" I reminded.

"But this is the game," Haymitch said. "Like you said, only one can come out."

I growled, angry at my father, in such a barbaric tradition in the Hunger Games. Mostly a mentor sticks with one tribute each year. Now Haymitch has chosen Katniss after helping Peeta with his interview. I was so angry; I punched the closest thing. Which was a vase that smashed into the tile floor, causing Effie to exclaim about the expensive decoration.

"Well, I'm not going to let a kid die so soon!" With that said, I went to my room, slamming the door.

I yanked off the ridiculous shoes and threw them across the room. Followed by the headdress and jewelry. Cursing up a storm as I tried to take off the dress and kicked it off. Midnight meowed in protest, hissing at me. I ignored the feline, stomping my way to the bathroom and into the showers. Jabbing the panels in setting up the shower. Still angry, I yanked the bun out and dunked my head in the stream of water.

I need to get all this makeup off me. I need to get it all off. Unable to hold it in, I collapsed onto the ground and began to cry. The water fell down my body. A sob escaped from what had transpired. I try to make the tributes each year to be sent off on good terms. Yet it doesn't help that I'm sending lambs to the slaughter.

Peeta was going to die.

And there is a chance, Katniss as well.

I'm sick and tired of all this death. Yet someone has to do it. Someone has to be the one who supports the children who get reap. Haymitch barely did anything in the last four years until now. Once I got out of my funk, Haymitch did nothing. I was the one comforting the tributes. I was the one training them. The one seeking sponsors. The one who sends them off. The one…who collects the bodies.

Flashes of all the tributes I trained flash before my eyes. Seeing their bodies mangled, stabbed, bashed, and such. I covered my mouth to suppress a sob.

I'm just done.

I took a deep breath, lifting my head to let the water splash across my face.

I can't cry... not here, not now.

Pull yourself together, Blaine! I told myself.

After twenty minutes, all cleaned up, I changed into something simple, wearing black yoga pants and a white short sleeve shirt. My hair was still wet, so I put it in a ponytail. That was when the tablet made an indication. I took a deep breath as I walked to the nightstand and checked the message.

"Please, not tonight," I whispered.

I can't do a client tonight.

Fortunately, it was not about a client. However, President Snow wanted to have a meeting with me tomorrow. I inhale sharply, having suspicions that it is related to Peeta's interview. Midnight mewed as he climbed onto my lap, rubbings against my stomach while purring. I petted his back, taking comfort in the distraction.

Once calmed, I thanked Midnight and ordered another tuna bowl. He paused, staring at me with concern. I smiled softly, setting him on the counter, before leaving.

When I came out, I ignored practically shocked faces at my appearance. I did not care anymore as I sat next to Cinna. Who seemed amused by this state of dress.

Dinner was technically quiet, even when Effie tried to hold a conversation. But no one talked or practically cared, even when Haymitch said Katniss was golden and sponsors would be lining up around the block. I scowled, finishing off my rose petal cream soup.

"So, Blaine, do you have any dates this coming week?" Effie asked.

"No," I said in a dull tone.

"Really, I heard Augusta Flickerman has asked you out," Effie said, trying to start a conversation.

I inhaled sharply when she said that. That my grip tightens around the spoon. Augusta is the last man I ever want to have a date with. It's worse that he spends money to sleep with me. His ways of sex are aggressive. Every encounter, I leave utterly sore and regretting every moment. The last time he left bite marks, I had to request advanced medicine to heal the wounds.

"Yes, he did. However, he canceled on me for Hera Phipps and Demeter Moss. He's probably wrestling in bed with them right now." I bluntly lied, then took a bite of the second course of roasted chicken on a mushroom cream sauce.

This statement made Haymitch choke on his wine, Effie and Portia gasped, Katniss and Peeta were confused until both were blushing, while Cinna snickered. Truly nobody is up to date on the gossip. That Caesar's son was a lady's man. All he ever wants to do is have sex with women and control them. The last time I saw him was a few months ago. He was outbid, so he thought he could get me on a date before the client. Let's just say he said something that resulted in a punch in the face.

Everyone keeps reminding me that I was President Snow's Canary.

Mess with the private Profit Circle chain, and there may be consequences. President Snow, let it slide, finding it amusing, and keep the integrity for all of us. The next day, I received a bouquet of flowers from Caesar as his apology for his son. You can say Caesar and I are good friends. But his son, I hate with a passion.

After dinner, we went to the sitting room to watch the recaps. Watching the giggling twirling girl from Katniss and the charming love-struck boy from Peeta. It was good that Tributes had to go backstage before and after their interview because Katniss would have probably died from embarrassment. Once the anthem on the screen is finished, it goes black. The room was engulfed in silence. Never before in the past five years since I became a mentor has the room fallen silent.

For tomorrow, they will be in the arena.

The actual Games begin. Though it would start late for the citizens of the Capitol after the heavy partying tonight. Still doesn't mean the tributes and mentors don't get to sleep in. As the stylists go with Katniss and Peeta tomorrow to the arena. Effie, Haymitch, and I shall go to Games Headquarters and the Bettings… in the hope of getting Sponsors. However, I won't be there until tomorrow.

I had an important meeting with President Snow.

Effie was the first to say goodbye to Katniss and Peeta. As she took their hand and cried. This was shocking; probably they were the best well manner tributes she ever had? However, it was required by the escort rule handbook for her to say something awful, as she says, "I wouldn't be surprised if I finally get promoted to a decent district next year!"

Can she get promoted now? I thought. That would be a blessing for both of us. Please?

Once she was done, Effie left. It was Haymitch's turn as he crossed his arms and stared at them.

"Any final words of advice?" Peeta asked.

"When the gong sounds, get the hell out of there. Neither of you are up for the blood baths at the Cornucopia. Just clear out, put as much distance as you can between yourself and the others, and find a water source. If not, try and stick together." He said. "Got it?"

"And after that?" Katniss asked.

"Stay alive," Haymitch added. This time it wasn't a joke like the one on the train. Katniss and Peeta nodded, understanding the situation. Then it was my turn.

"You had over a week to see the other tributes. You know who your enemy is and who can be your ally." I said that my word of advice got them confused. "If you can, make allies until the final eight. It's better to have a partner to survive than it is to be a loner closer to death."

With that said, Katniss went to bed while Peeta lingered to talk to Portia. Haymitch also retired to his bedroom, probably going to drink the night away for tomorrow. I sat on the couch when Midnight joined in and curled on my lap.

Soon Peeta headed off to bed while Portia left, stating she needed to get some sleep.

I continued to pet Midnight. Petting his black pelt when another hand joined the love attention fest of the cat. I looked up to realize Cinna was still here.

"You were amazing on stage." He complimented.

"Thanks," I said this time. I felt a bit warm on my face. "I was impressed by the lights in the dress. What was your inspiration? Stars?"

"No, fireflies." He answered.

"Fireflies," I repeated.

"You mentioned them to me before," he explained.

I paused, staring at him. Since when have I ever mentioned fireflies to him? Probably from that encounter, he constantly reminded me about something I have no recollection of. It was getting on my nerves that I didn't remember him. We have met, that is confirmed, but where and when. I try to remember when I talked to him about fireflies in the past.

"I still don't remember," I confessed, then paused. "You're still not gonna tell me."

"Where's the fun in that," he teased.

I rolled my eyes.

"Do you think either of them will make it?" Cinna asked as he continue to pet Midnight.

". . . I don't know. This would be the fifth time I actually consider them as family. Not a tribute. I am afraid to watch the bloodbath tomorrow." I confessed.

"I am as well," Cinna said.

I sighed and rested my head on his shoulder. Not realizing my actions until he stiffens. I was about to get up when Cinna wrapped an arm around my shoulders. I looked at him in wonder, but he paid attention to the window. I sighed. What is happening to me? I somehow formed a bond with this team.

A mischievous purr was heard. I looked down my lap to stare at Midnight's amber eyes with a raised brow. I glared at the damn cat. Not to think funny business since my life was already taken from me. I can no longer make the free decision I used to have. Midnight pouted before he meowed, then hopped onto Cinna's lap. It was strange how the damn cat trusted Cinna within the past several days. He hates Capitol people, or so I thought. The cat has something up his paws. For the Cheshire grin and purr it made wasn't a good sign.

Damn Cat!

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