Blaine Abernathy: A Canary Caged

Disclaimer: I do not own the Hunger Game

Part 2: The Traitor

Chapter 26: Dead Heart

Blaine's POV

I stood in front of nine tombstones belonging to the fallen tributes in the last five years. An area in the cemetery was dedicated to the children who died as punishment for their ancestor's actions during the Dark Days. They were kids I once knew, and I couldn't do anything. Only watch them die by fighting to the death in survival.

The winter winds blow against the frosted dead land, tossing my hair around. I shudder, bringing my gray scarf closer while holding back tears. It was a bad habit to come here to visit the dead. On many days of their birthdays, but today was different. Today was the victory tour, and I couldn't understand why I couldn't save those in the past. I wiped the tears away, setting some violas and pansies on the tombstones of Mike, Parsley, Thym, Luke, Ivy, Josh, Melody, Sage, and Harper.

"I'm sorry," I whispered and walked away.

A lot has changed since Katniss pulled out the poisonous berries that started a historical catalyst. For the first time since Panem began, there are now two victors. However, the order of balance must be obtained, to which President Snow executed Seneca Crane. It was a week later that his death was announced as a suicide. Doctors proclaimed that being Head Gamemaker was stressful for a young man, and he was taking antidepressants. His death was considered an accidental overdose of the medication he was prescribed. The public believed the story but not everybody. Not those in the Profit Circle. Seneca was a regular client; except he was in control and did not submit.

Another friend has gone from a change in the reactionary entertainment of the Hunger Games. Finnick would visit me for a day to help me cope with this information. Yes, Seneca fancied me more than I consider, but he was a good friend. Afterward, I followed President Snow's orders, Spy on Katniss. Also known as Operation Catching Fire. The betrayal of doing this task was disgusting. Spying on the Girl on Fire daily: observing her actions and secrets so Snow could use them against her. What I know and reported was that Katniss still hunts illegally. She gives a game to the Hawthorne family, and she goes hunting with Gale Hawthorne on Sunday. The boy who announced he was her cousin, except Cousins, don't kiss each other. Not in a way that of a peck on the cheek. Gale, Prim, and Peeta was Katniss Everdeen's weakness.

I felt disgusted by the information I possessed and gave to President Snow. I did all this to protect my father, the team, and Cinna. Cinna was a fantastic person who could just make an impression. Cinna was at the train station when I returned a few weeks after the seventy-fourth Hunger Games for a concert tour. Although he sensed something was wrong, he didn't hover. Cinna helped me accomplish my duties as a singer and role model. Hell, he even distracted me from killing Simon to choosing songs. But also, what else is special was the gift for me. Something that I can take home. Yes, clients have given me gifts, but I leave them at the Capitol or donate them, for I do not want anything to remind me of the Capitol. Yet when Cinna gave me the gift, I was baffled.

I touched my ear to feel the piercings on the tragus, where snowdrop earring stays on. It was impossible to take them off, for they were my favorite.

I stopped at another tombstone belonging to my mother's family. As I stared at my mom's grave along with my grandma, Maude Ivory.

I worked on cleaning their tombstone. I have a few memories of my Granny Maude as she sang songs and played the guitar. She passed away when I was five. She told stories about her family being traveling musicians, only to be at the wrong place at the wrong time during the Dark Days. Although she was born after the Dark Days, her group, known as the Covey, told her stories.

When Granny Maude passed away, my mother remained silent. She barely talked about her family, except for what she had. But nothing further. As if the wrong people would hear. Even Haymitch barely talked about Lucy's side of the family. Although I think once mom died, he tried to separate us from them for their protection.

I sighed, standing up before making my way back to Victor's Village. It was cold out as the frost decorated the grounds. It used to be Haymitch and me. But now Peeta and Katniss have moved in. Peeta was next door to me, spending evening meals at my place when I was home. Peeta had separated himself from his family, and after what his mother said to him, I wouldn't blame him. His brothers and father would stop occasionally, but Mrs. Mellark was not allowed. Although Peeta does give money to his family. Otherwise, he was home painting.

The Capitol liked to capitalize the Victor's talents. With Peeta and Katniss being an item .President Snow can't profit off Peeta through sexual means. However, after a report I gave, he found a way with Peeta's artistic talents. So Peeta now paints. It seemed to be therapy for him.

As for Katniss…. the girl doesn't have a single talent in her bone except for hunting. Effie had suggested singing. Everyone was swayed when they heard Katniss sing Rue to sleep. As Effie forced me to give her singing lessons, Katniss did not like that. Once alone, as I tried to provide her with some methods to warm her voice, she told me she didn't want to be a singer. I just told her to sing terribly. Katniss nodded, so when Effie asked Katniss to sing, the Girl on Fire did so….and sang one of my songs terribly. I tried hard not to laugh, but Katniss kept to her goal.

Effie was flustered by this, trying to understand what was going on. I lied to Effie and said, "There's a difference between singing a lullaby and actual singing."

Effie pouted in defeat. She honestly thought she could profit off Katniss as a manager. Fortunately, Cinna stepped in to save Katniss from the Capitol's prying curiosities. As he and Katniss collaborate on a fashion line. In other words, Cinna is doing all the work, and Katniss takes the credit.

My smile dropped when I entered Victor's village to see a car parked in front of the Everdeen residence. As Damon exits the passenger seat to open the back door. Fear possessed me to see the only source of anxiety in this hell of a district. President Snow came out with an apathetic expression and walked up to the house. Quickly I ran back to Haymitch's house and locked the door. My heart pounded against my chest, which hurt while I touched my neck. I still remember the capsicum stunt President Snow pulled. It took a month for my skin to heal.

The foul scent exudes my senses and brings me back to reality. Instantly my nose wrinkled in disgust. My father refused to let anyone clean this house ever since I moved out and hardly takes care of this place. But now it got worse, for he proclaimed himself retired from mentor duties and had a party of filth. Everywhere you walked, there were bottles and bottles of white liquor and spirits. Followed by dry vomit, and body odor. Walking through the dump into the kitchen to find my poor excuse of a father sitting by the kitchen table, arms sprawled across the surface, and face drenched in liquor. A snore was heard, a sign that he was still alive.

Nudging him would be no use to wake this old fart. So, getting a bucket of cold water and removing the knife he slept with. I dunk the water on top of his head. Instantly he jumped on his feet, knocking down his chair and thrashing about. Being raised by this man, I grabbed his arms and pinned them behind his back while tripping his footing. The kick knocked him back to his senses, and he looked around his surroundings and then at me. I wasn't in a good mood as I crossed my arms and glared at him.

"What are you doing?" He sputtered, wiping his face with the sleeves of his dirty shirt.

"Getting your sorry ass ready," I spat, walking to the window to open and air out the room.

"What?" He groaned.

"It's the Victory Tour, dad," I said. "You promise to stay sober for this day."

Realizations crossed his mind. "Why am I wet?"

"What do ya think," I muttered. Heading towards the fridge to pull out a hangover remedy, and grabbed fresh-baked bread I bought earlier today. "You're in your forties and can't take care of yourself."

"Couldn't wake me without giving me pneumonia," Haymitch grumbled, passing over a knife. He pulls off his shirt, revealing a sweat-stained undershirt.

"I don't think you need help on that, dad," I said, cutting the loaf, not dosing the blade with white liquor. I gave him a slice and handed him the vial of hangover remedy. Haymitch groaned at the object but didn't decline to drink it. Once done with the vial, he started chowing down on the loaf. Strange how our victors go: Katniss hunts, Peeta bakes, Haymitch drinks, and I spy. Not a great collaboration between the victors of District Twelve. Even when we have ways to keep busy while wallowing in our past of the Hunger Games.

"Now we need to get the Star-Crossed Lovers back together again," I informed.

"Brrr. Those two have a lot of warming up to do before show time." Haymitch announced.

That's right. The audiences will be expecting the lovebirds who won the seventy-fourth Hunger Games. If only those two could look each other in the eye and hold a decent conversation. I chomp on a slice of bread and scowl. If you wonder why I'm such a bitch, today was not just the victory tour but Katniss. She and I haven't been getting along the past few weeks. It started out simple when she visited me for advice on coping and girl talk of training to be etiquette. But we are entirely opposites to what other critics would suspect. She was aloof. I was observant. She heads forward, and I'm self-preservation. She takes risks while I fold the cards. Katniss would never cooperate in any situation as long as it is her way.

She can detect animals in her surroundings but not people. Just last week, I spotted Katniss with Gale at the Hobb. Everything seemed normal, yet I had to keep watch. Therefore, I kept my distance, buying the necessities from the Hobb, until following them. I hid inside an abandoned shed, taking a recording device in the shape of a pen. What I caught made me feel terrible as Katniss and Gale shared a kiss. However, I had no choice as I sent the pictures to President Snow.

I do what I do to protect District 12. Despite isolating myself, there are people I care for other than Haymitch. Even estranged from my relatives, I provide money to them. I give Michael's family money, so his siblings don't have to sign up to be tessera. The same to all the previous tributes' families. Despite failing to bring their children home, the parents appreciate it, so the fallen tributes' siblings don't get reap.

But there was another reason. I do what I can to prevent an artificial mining accident. After I became Victor and went through the trauma, I was in no condition to cooperate. President Snow had a mining accident orchestrated that killed ten men. This shot me back to my senses, as President Snow informed me that if I did not cooperate, there would be more, and I would never know if it was my fault. Even though my District isn't fond of me…. I do whatever I can to protect them.

Even if it means betraying those, I care. As Damon would say, "Sacrificing few to protect the many."

I hate that man, I thought. And it doesn't help that both President Snow and Damon are here.

"Blaine," Haymitch called out. "You in there?"

I blinked a few times, snapping out of my thoughts.

"Shower, now," Was all I could say before shoving a package of fresh clothes from the Capitol today.

Haymitch grumbled some foul words under his breath and went upstairs to clean up. This was the District 12 Victory Tour; we will not mess this up. I took a deep breath, exited the house, and returned to my place. It started snowing, and the ground was covered with an inch of white. My body tensed as I stared at the gray sky.

When I was little, I used to love the Snow…But not anymore. Not when looking at pure white Snow, something that is cold. Something that is not supposed to be stained red. I see the blood of the dead-hearted. The children who die in the Tundra Mountains of a cruel arena. The blood I created and split from the innocent and lost.

"Think it'll stick?" a deep voice asked.

I tensed as I turned around to face Damon, who looked down at me with a smirk.

"Hello, Blaine," He greeted.

"Damon," I replied.

"President Snow wanted to thank you for the information you have provided these last few months," he informed.

I only nodded.

"Please ensure you keep Miss Everdeen on track throughout the Victory Tour." He added, with a stern tone.

I inhale sharply, "Understood."

Damon nodded, "I shall see you at the Capitol."

With that said, Damon left, walking over to the car where President Snow walked out of the Everdeen's residents. The President of Panem looked in my direction, giving a nod before Damon opened the door, letting him inside. I stood there, watching the vehicle leave the village and trying to control my anxiety.

I don't know how long I stood there until a strong wind blew, causing me to shiver out of my thoughts. I sighed, shaking my head, and headed back to my house. I enter through the front door, greeted by a familiar black fur ball and a new gray one. Midnight meowed and rubbed himself against my legs, followed by his kitten. Midnight was a feline male who could never reject a cat in heat. But the kitten was his by the eyes and was the last of the litter. Thus, I took the young female kitten and named her Shiloh.

"Hey, you two," I cooed, kneeling to pet their heads. "Sorry, but you won't accompany me on this trip. You're going to be at Prims and have fun with Buttercup."

Midnight hissed, blocking Shiloh in a protected stance. I snickered. "Such a protective father."

Welcome to Part 2: The Traitor.

Hope you enjoy the changes.

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