Blaine Abernathy: A Canary Caged
Disclaimer: I do not own The Hunger Games
Chapter 17: The Past Rewritten
Blaine's POV
I sat against a leather lounge, chatting with Sponsors who wanted to support Katniss and Peeta. Take it for Haymitch to get a hangover before the Bettings. Anyway, I busied myself on the art of conversation. I owe Effie for those etiquette classes before the victory tour. Was it complete torture when learning about what spoon to use or the correct motion of a waltz…yes it was. Has it helped me ever since…indeed.
"What lovely outfit you're wearing? Who is the designer?" A female sponsor who had green hair asked.
"Cinna," I said.
I was wearing a one-piece jumpsuit with a cut-out panel below the high neckline and feather-accented shoulders. The natural waistline allures long culotte pants. I was hesitant about the cleavage cut in the front, yet when I put it on, the top was fitted so that it didn't expose my breasts, just the sternum. My hair was curled, and I wore a simple beret that had a veil. Makeup simple, with a black cat eye and red lips.
I find it strange that Cinna has dressed me in simple attire. Well, still fashionable to get attention, but nothing dramatic. It reminded me of Chanel, except she tried to accentuate my curves. After her, any stylist that provided me clothing made me appear slutty. Instead, I look modest in a way that I feel comfortable in my clothes. Hell, Cinna even provided simple shoes today. It was like Cinna knew when an outfit needed to gain attention and when it was business.
"Well, the jumpsuit is simple. It suits you very well." The sponsor complimented me.
"I'll take that as a compliment," I smiled.
We continued our discussion on fashion when the Game started. With the final eight tributes remaining, all bids are privately given to the tribute station. All money bids would be sent to their account, where the mentors can deposit gifts to our tribute. I sat there, no longer focused on the sponsors, and concentrated on the monitor to watch Katniss walking through the forest. She whistled Rue's four-note melody, but the girl didn't respond.
I scowled and pulled out my tablet to investigate the young girl's whereabouts. She was about two miles from Katniss, except she wasn't alone.
I looked back to the screen to see Rue climbing around the trees, searching for Katniss. That was until she tripped over a thin wire. The wires knocked Rue out of the tree and fell to the ground, where a net sprung from compost leaves and entangled the poor thing. How on earth did a trap get in there! I've been watching this Game thoroughly, and no tribute was able to create a trap to that degree. Also, the netting wasn't accurate to perfection. This was a tribute made, but who was patient enough to make a trap that advanced.
Rue struggled to get free but could not cut the ropes with her sharp rocks. I bit back the urge to scream at the monitors to cheer the girl out of the trap. That was when another tribute came into view. It was Marvel, the boy from District 1. He was out of Rue's sight, but that didn't stop him from holding a mischievous smirk. I looked over my shoulder to see Gloss and Cashmere, happy to see their tribute capturing another victim. I growled. The kind and chivalry District 1 may be; their diplomatic behavior doesn't affect their conflict of the Games.
Until I realized something… the other Careers weren't there. No Cato or Clove. Could it be possible that the Career pack was diminished after the explosion? Possibly so, then that means. Rue was bait! I wanted to scream and curse out, except I just sat there and waited for the young girl's execution. It was heart-retching to watch Rue call out to Katniss for help.
Katniss reached the third camp they had created and agreed to meet. The urge to send a gift to stop Katniss, warning her to not go anywhere or leave immediately, was insufficient. All gifts were postponed till after the event of a potential kill. Katniss crept silently through the shadows, concealing herself. She sensed something suspicious, analyzed the area to find no struggle, and cocked her head. You could hear the four-note melody until a child screamed and bellowed out. Immediately Katniss ran as fast as she could toward the trap.
"Katniss!" Rue shrieked. "Katniss!"
"Rue!" Katniss shouted back as she continued to run desperately. "Rue! I'm coming!"
When Katniss broke through the clearing, she found Rue hopelessly entangled to the ground, secured by the net. The moment she pushed her hand through the mesh, calling Katniss's name. Katniss ran over, freeing Rue from the trap, as she took her knife and cut the mesh. The moment Rue was free, the girl hugged Katniss.
"You're okay. You're okay," Katniss sighed in relief, hugging her back. "You're fine. See?"
Marvel came out only to step on a twig that caught the girls attention. Katniss dodged out of reflex. However, the spear pierced the little girl's body.
Katniss cried no, shooting her arrow the next second and struck Marvel in the chest before he could throw the next spear. The arrow pierced deeply into the heart; he fell to his knees and yanked out the arrow. As a result, drowning himself in his own blood. I cringed at the sight of blood squirting and I had to close my eyes.
Katniss reloaded her arrow, aiming around while shouting at her ally, "Are there more? Are there more?"
Rue was silent as she glanced down at the spear in her body. The capability to heal such a wound was inevitable. Rue took hold of the spear as the shock numbed the pain and yanked it out. Katniss turned around to see this in horror. Her olive skin turned pale, and her eyes widened, not expecting that. The adrenaline Rue had a moment ago vanished as she collapsed.
Katniss quickly caught her, resting Rue's head on her lap while her hand grabbed Katniss's own. Yet Katniss's free hand examined the wound, confirming this girl's death. She sipped up the jacket to hide the injury as blood seeped along the gray shirt.
"It's okay." Katniss lied badly as tears formed. "You're okay. You're okay."
Rue stared at her with tears as she whispered, "You blew up the food?"
"Every last bit," Katniss said.
"Good." Rue smiled slightly, "You have to win."
"I'm going to. Going to win for the both of us now," Katniss promised. When she said that, Marvel cannon fired, confirming the boy from District 1, eighth place.
"Don't go," Rue cried, squeezing her hand tightly.
"Course not. I'm staying right here," Katniss assured, gently brushing her curly hair.
"Can you sing?" Rue asked.
Katniss thought about it before she gave a slight cough and swallowed to sing her friend to sleep:
"Deep in the meadow, under the willow
A bed of grass, a soft green pillow
Lay down your head, and close your sleepy eyes
And when again they open, the sun will rise.
..
Here it's safe, here it's warm
Here the daisies guard you from every harm
Here your dreams are sweet and tomorrow brings them true
Here is the place where I love you.
..
Deep in the meadow, hidden far away
A cloak of leaves, A moonbeam ray
Forget your woes and let your troubles lay
And when again it's morning, they'll wash away.
..
Here it's safe, here it's warm
Here the daisies guard you from every harm
Here your dreams are sweet and tomorrow brings them true
Here is the place where I love you."
My hand covered my mouth as I cried to this. To watch Katniss cry and sing to Rue brought back a terrible memory of Michael. I had to excuse myself and find shelter. I locked myself in a small lounge, collapsed onto the ground, curing my legs to my chest, and continued crying. The tablet was still on and continued to broadcast the event.
I couldn't stop staring at Rue's peaceful face. She was so young and frail to be in this Game. The same expression Michael had as he held onto his last breath before death took him away from me. Before the Gamemakers and Capitol took my only friend away from me. This was the actual reason why I hated the Capitol so much. To watch innocent children die in the most brutal way.
When Katniss returned, she held a bouquet of wildflowers. Slowly, one flower at a time, decorating Rue's body in flowers. She covered up the fatal wound, cleaned her face, and placed petals into her hair. I'm surprised the Gamemakers continued to roll the cameras instead of elsewhere. Once done with her work. Katniss stepped back and took a last look at Rue.
"Bye Rue," Katniss whispered. She pressed three fingers from her left hand against her lips and held them up in Rue's direction. Afterward, she walked away without turning back. I don't know how Katniss could embrace such devastation so easily. Still, the pain would consume her sooner or later like it consumed me long ago.
I couldn't bear staying at the Bettings. Not what just happened! So, I called for Hermes to take me back to the Training Center. I was making my way out when Seeder came over to stop me. I stopped to stare at her as tears fell. Her eyes were watery too.
"I'm sorry," I managed to say.
"It's not your fault," Seeder murmured as she hugged me. "Your girl tried to protect her. That's all District 11 could ask for."
I hugged her back.
A tribute who was twelve and thirteen were the most harrowing deaths for us victors. They were innocent. A twelve-year-old was not even a teenager yet, and a thirteen-year-old barely grasped life. Usually, they die quickly in the bloodbath or survive a day or two before being hunted down. If they make it for five days, nature takes them away. In the end, a child was murdered.
"You need to go before Cashmere finds you," Seeder advised. "I'm going to send some bread to Katniss."
I nodded, pulling away to wipe the tears, "Thank you."
Seeder nodded as she pecked my forehead before going back to the Bettings.
Hermes pulled up, and I quickly got inside before anyone saw me.
The ride was quiet, and Hermes didn't speak a word. By the time we arrived at the Training Center, I was shaking. When I reached the twelfth floor, all the Avoxs looked at me with concern. Maybe it was a good thing that they couldn't speak. I didn't want to hear their condolences or whatever sympathy they could express verbally. Like in a daze, I locked the door to my room.
Feeling confined in this outfit, I yanked the beret off and broke the button on the collar to breathe. The jumpsuit came off as I tossed it on the ground. Not caring about indecently, I lay on the bed. Within seconds, I was sobbing as haunted memories burned my mind.
Midnight sat next to me to show some support, but he would never understand the pain it felt while watching a poor innocent girl die.
Dying the same way Mike did.
.o0o.
"How could you!" I exclaimed at Mike as he scavenged over the two dead tributes' supplies. I sat there practically catatonic next to the young boy from District 9. His blood covered my hand as my grip tightened over the dagger that killed him. "We could have killed the girl and let him suffer in the cold!"
Not long ago, I killed the two tributes from District 9. The two had wandered into our haven. A spot in the mountain that had hot springs. The boiling water made the area warm. Providing us shelter the last few days. Only for these two to find it. We hid and thought about what to do. Should we leave or stake our claim. I didn't want Mike to risk the burden of killing someone. Therefore, I did it.
We waited until the two fell asleep. Once in their deep sleep, I slit the girl's wrists, thinking she could bleed out in her sleep. When I came over to the boy, I hesitated, for he was a child. I hunched over him, blade in hand, debating how to kill him. Knowing he wouldn't survive in the arena, I decided to leave him. Until another hand came up from behind, grasping my own, we slit the boy's throat together.
I turned around in horror to see it was Mike.
"We can't take chances, Blaine," Mike snapped. "This is the Hunger Games. You think they would do the same for us?"
I snapped out of the memory.
"He was only thirteen!" I cried, dropping the knife. My hand was still shaking as the blood dried.
"You didn't have a damn problem killing her," Mike stated.
I stared at him in shock. He was right. I had no problem killing the girl tribute from Nine. My hands were covered in their blood. What I thought could be easy, like decapitating a chicken, was different compared to a human. They were in our haven, our refuge of the hot springs amongst these frozen mountains. Every day the temperature dropped slowly, killing tributes by the day. It was just day seven, and we were already at the final eight. I sat there numb, unable to think coherently while my red hands brushed through the young boy's hair.
Mike finished his search and split the supplies into two units. There wasn't much, but enough to sustain us for a few days before the announcement of the Feast. When Mike lifted his head, I saw the pain written on his face. Guilt readable in his gray eyes. I knew what was about to happen. It wasn't guilt for killing the boy. No, it was guilt in what was to come. We were at the final eight, and our deal was an alliance until the final eight. We couldn't kill one another, even if we were the final two. We just couldn't.
Thus, Mike picked up his pack and slung it over his shoulder. "It's been a . . . it's been an honor to work with you, Blaine."
"You're leaving," I gasped.
"Yeah, there are eight of us now. Might as well say goodbye, take care," Mike said as he started walking out of the small clearing of the springs. "I don't want it to be down to the two of us, ya know."
"Okay," I agreed. We didn't dare shake hands or look each other in the eyes for goodbye. We couldn't dare see each other covered in blood and walk away as if it was nothing? We just couldn't.
I sat there, surrounded by the dead bodies of my victims, and let my mind go blank. Was this how dad felt during the Quarter Quells after he killed the other tributes? To feel empty and numb even for the slightest moment. I've seen his Game and how he just shrugged it off. But the aftermath was different after Maysilee's death.
The winter storm lit up the dusk sky. A signal that the hovercraft was coming to confiscate the bodies. The tributes from District 9, the girl and boy. It was such a cowardly way to kill them. To kill them in their sleep full of regret. I stepped back and took a look at the young boy for the last time. If it weren't for the blood, he could've been sleeping. Maybe dying in his dream was better than our cruel reality?
Possibly.
I sighed, wiping the tears off my face before grabbing my supplies and leaving the springs. It was challenging to stay in this peaceful scenery with all the blood-stained snow. I walked around the edge of the mountain cliff, trying to figure out a new strategy in order to stay alive. My foot dislodged a rock causing it to fall into the abyss. I reclaimed my balance and waited, hoping there was a chance of an opportunity for a force field. But a minute later, the rock didn't shoot back up. I stared down at the cliff disappointedly. The hope I wished for was gone. I grabbed another rock, tossed it over the cliff, and waited till it clunked.
It was time to think logically and get silly hopes out of my head.
That was when I heard a scream, it was masculine, and the first thought that came to me was Mike. Grabbing the knife, I ran in the direction of Mike's screams. The alliance and our friendship may be over, and he broke it off. But I couldn't let him go. When I arrived through the blizzard, I saw the boy from District 5, Static, wrapping a garrote around Mike's neck while wrestling. Mike was thrashing about. The wire cut through his clothing and sliced his flesh! Blood covered his dark winter uniform while Mike's lips turned blue.
I clenched my teeth, too afraid of what to do. If I didn't do anything, Mike would die from asphyxiation or laceration over the arteries.
"Hey!" I screamed.
Static saw me and loosened his hold. I adjusted my hold on the knife and threw it at Static. The knife penetrated his shoulder, causing him to let go of Mike. I dashed to finish Static, but the guy grabbed the supplies and ran away. The blizzard picked up, and it was impossible to see his whereabouts. Growling, I went to Mike instead. The wires around his neck penetrated his jugular, but not enough to kill him instantly. I sat down and removed the wires from his body. For each untangle, more blood escaped.
I choked on a sob. The capacity to heal such a laceration would be a miracle… if we were at a hospital. Beyond my control to mend basic first aid. Mike lay there, choking on his own blood, his hand reached out for mine, and I clutched it like there was no tomorrow. For I was dying alongside my best friend and partner: Michael Smyrnium.
"I'm so sorry," I cried.
"…sing… of home…" Mike requested through gurgled words.
I thought about it before taking a deep breath and singing about home:
"Land of bear and land of eagle
Land that gave us birth and blessing
Land that called us ever homewards
We will go home across the mountains,
..
We will go home,
We will go home,
We will go home."
Mike's eyes closed shut while blood seeped out of his lips. His breathing became faint as his chest moved slowly. My throat clenched with tears in my eyes, for they turned to ice. As I continued to sing the song until reaching the final verses.
"We will go home singing our song,
We will go home across the mountains,
We will go home."
"I love...you... Blaine," he whispered. "Live free…"
I smiled and leaned down to kiss him on the lips. He felt cold as the warm metallic liquid continued to bleed.
"Hear our singing, hear our longing;
We will go home across the mountains."
Mike closed his eyes and sighed in defeat as he died in the cold. I grabbed his face, shaking him to wake up! No, begging him to wake up, to not leave me like this. But he didn't. Mike lay there dead in my arms. My throat clogged up while burning tears flowed down my face. It was no use in remaining stoic in front of the cameras. I lost my best friend. I held him in my arms and cried over the cannon fire. If we were in District 12, dad or somebody would pry me off him. But there was nobody.
Nobody!
I was alone.
I was alone in suffering in this Game.
Somebody is going to pay dearly for this.
Static was going to pay for what he had done!
I stared down at Mike for the last time and kissed his forehead. This was goodbye. Goodbye to a friend and ally. I lifted my left hand, placed three fingers to my lips, and then rested them on his forehead. Afterward, I set him down in the snow, grabbed the garrote, and followed Static's trail. I looked back for the last time, touching my lips to feel the blood on them. The kiss of death, Mike's last kiss.
"Die well…" I whispered.
My name is Blaine Abernathy. Daughter of Haymitch Abernathy, the Victor of the Second Quarter Quells. I am sixteen years old. I am in the Hunger Games. And I am going to win.
.o0o.
Everyone says I was Haymitch's daughter, which might be an absolute fact. From genetic down to humorous behavior, I was his child. Though, I hold the different solutions in life choices and obey like any manipulated victor. I know the pain my father and I felt when an ally died in these barbaric games where the Capitol takes pleasure. Only two dozen can understand that the arena wasn't just a game.
And on the day Rue died, the districts had taken an understanding of the suffering we, the tributes, felt. District 11 showed their anger at the little girl's death. To riot on their town square and rebel against the peacekeepers and those of the Capitol. Law enforcement solved the situation. However, riots or any outbreaks must hold consequences of punishment.
I had a shower and got dressed when Haymitch came into my room. He told me he had a conversation with Seneca that day. Seneca said Katniss had to die. But Haymitch had a different solution. Give the audience what they want. And what the audiences wish to desperately be is young love. So the idea was at the discussion from Head Gamemaker to President Snow.
I may agree to this event in gaining sponsors.
But President Snow will not approve.
I watched the Girl on Fire curled against a log crying over Rue. I knew from the heart. That Katniss Everdeen was exactly like me.
Only she was the Girl on Fire
And I was the Lady from the Ashes.
"Lady of Ashes," I whispered to myself to sleep.
For I wear black to mourn the dead.
Now you know why Blaine wears black. She is still in mourning for Mike and all the tributes that have been under her mentorship.
She has two nicknames.
Lady of Ashes and Lady from the Ashes.
Song used: We will go home (Song of exile) from King Arthur.
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