Blaine Abernathy: A Canary Caged

Disclaimer: I do not own The Hunger Games

Warning: This chapters goes over substance abuse.

Chapter 33: Dark Memories

Blaine's POV

I only had one day of rest. As it was spent with Cinna as we simply talked about anything. Followed by him massaging my feet and shoulders. I desperately tried not to moan since he was a saint. This man was truly after my heart. I feel so comfortable around him. And yet, I don't feel worthy.

The following day Effie came in with the schedule. After having breakfast, I was taken to the stadium, where I'll go through rehearsals. Then midday, I will do a radio interview to promote the concert. And by evening, I will be attending parties. These were my regular schedules, rehearsals in the morning, midday, some sort of interview or costume change, and attending parties. I invited Cinna and Portia, for I can't do this alone.

I've become comfortable with them. As the two have kept me company at the parties. None of my Victor friends were in the Capitol, nor was Effie staying close by unless she brought an important figure over. No doubt Effie enjoys being my manager, as she gets to attend these events. However, her schedules and expectations can be tiresome.

The exhaustion was building up, and I would crash in bed.

However, all the hard work doesn't keep the nightmares away.

.o0o.

Cold.

The weather became a new ice age with the blizzard the Gamemakers created. Leo and I faced each other on the opposite ends inside the horn, glaring at each other. The Feast was over, and a few tributes died, not from the Careers or me. The second bloodbath had mutts genetically altered in the shape of a giant humanoid ape-like creature. They are taller than an average man. It can walk like a man and has long, thick white fur and blue eyes; agile yet affable-natured Leo had the tenuous to call these beasts Yetis, after some folklore he read about. I thought he was stupid. A mutt is a mutt. The reason either of us is alive is because of a truce we made in order to stay alive after the ambush of the Abominable Snowmen.

"So, Twelve, how many have ya killed?" Leo asked.

I stared at him, counting the death toll in my head until answering, "Three…. you?"

"Five. Three in the bloodbath, two hunting," Leo answered proudly. "You should have seen Seven's face."

"How can you take joy in this?" I hissed, disgusted by the Career's morals. "How can you mock those who died like they were animals? They were kids just like you!"

"You wouldn't understand," he said with venom. "You're just an underdog. All you know about is tending whatever you grow and collect."

"You don't know anything about ordinary people." I shot back.

Nothing was said after that. We glared at each other, waiting for the blizzard to dissipate, and we could go our separate ways. As time passed, so did my hunger, so I pulled out my bag and grabbed the jerky. Leo's eyes widen, licking his lips at the sight of the jerky. I thought of handing him a piece, but I could already hear Haymitch yelling, 'Don't even think about it!' Although my mother would say if you don't show people respect, they will unlikely respect you. So out of the kindness of what was left of my heart, I gave him a piece and some bread. Instantly he took the offer and devoured them.

"Thanks," he muttered.

"Whatever," I whispered, nibbling on my ration.

"How old are you?" Leo asked.

I looked at him, surprised that he would ask me that. "Sixteen."

"Sixteen and a victor's child, damn." He whistled. "Not much in life for ya."

"Not for a long time," I thought aloud, taking the snowdrop pin out of my hair and tracing the porcelain stem. "Not for a very long time."

"Hmm. Were you and that boy a thing?"

I glared at Leo for calling Mike a boy. Mike was my best friend, my only friend back at Twelve before we got reaped. He didn't look at me like some source to get sweets, clothes, or money. He saw me who I was and encouraged me through school and everything…. until Static killed him. Leo raised his arms up in defense.

"Touchy, so you two weren't a thing."

"He was my best friend … my only friend."

"Geez, and I thought Victor's kids get tons."

"Tons of lackeys. Girls who wanted to be my friends so they could use my stuff or boys asking me out to have my dowry. Yeah, those are Victor's children's friends." I sarcastically said.

"Well, those asshats missed out on a hot chick." Leo complimented.

I paused, unsure if I should be flattered or insulted by the compliment. I had to remind myself that Leo was no ordinary teenager. He was an eighteen-year-old District Two Career, high on blood lust and testosterone. And I was a sixteen-year-old girl. This would have been interesting if we weren't in the Hunger Games trapped in a storm. Leo was handsome with tanned skin, short spiky blond hair, and dark blue eyes. His height is about six feet, with a muscular and toned body. Stereotypical Career from head to toe. I shuddered, unsure if it was from the cold or the awkward conversation.

Focus Blaine. He can snap your neck any second. I thought to myself. He could be manipulating you for the opportunity. You have to kill him before he kills you. Stay alive.

Suddenly Leo kneeled before me, and I gasped, not realizing he had moved. He sat beside me, adjusting my cloak while arming around me. Instincts quickly moved the dagger hidden in my boot, accidentally cutting myself. But I didn't show it. He leaned in closer, resting his forehead against mine, staring deep into my eyes.

"If we weren't in the Hunger Games, I might've asked you out." He murmured, lips a mere inch from my own. "I bet you've never been kissed."

Before I could reply, Leo slammed his lips against my own. I was baffled by the Career's action. He pressed a palm against my face while the other wrapped around my waist, bringing me closer to him so that I straddled his lap. I could hear Haymitch yelling at us to break it up, but Leo had a firm grip. I try to evade his intimate attack, not responding to the kiss. The air and his lips were cold, and his body was warm. The masculine scent consumed my senses, fighting to concentrate, but I didn't respond. Leo tilts my head and kisses down my jawline, nipping my skin. Unexpectedly a moan escaped my lips. Leo pulled back, smirking while I blushed.

Oh, if this Career wants a piece of me, then he'll get it! Taking every opportunity.

I shifted, bringing myself closer to him, pressing on a bulge that made him groan. I smirked, kissing him full of passion and lust that any teenager could carry in a lifetime. Leo smirked into the kiss, sitting up straighter, and I felt his hand on my waist tighter, teasing underneath the coat. His finger slid on exposed skin before going to the front, unzipping my jacket. He whistled, approving my cover breasts, then raised a hand to grope one of them. I gasped at such rough touches that were expected from him. As he groped my breast, he went back to kissing me, sliding his tongue in. The taste of him was disgusting for days without brushing, jerky, and whatever he ate. Slowly his hands slid to their destination on my shoulder in the kiss while mine went to my boot for the dagger.

He pulled back, blue eyes full of sympathy as fingers wrapped around my neck. "I'm sorry."

"Same," I replied, stabbing him hard in the chest.

Leo's eyes widened, bewildered at what just happened, as he looked down to see the silver dagger lodged in his chest. I yank his hands off me, setting them under my knees, keeping them there, and then returning to the dagger, pushing it deeper.

"You underestimated me, Leo. I love my father and my life by winning this game. Vengeance against the Career who killed innocents is simply a reward for my patience. You see, it's the slow knife that takes its time, the knife that waits years without forgetting, slips quietly between the bones and cuts the deepest." I said, panting and staring into his dying eyes. "You need to realize there are consequences in this world. And those consequences can be a bitch. You chose to be here when you could've been home with your family."

I leaned forward and kissed his forehead while the dagger went through to the handle. Leo gave a final gasp of air till staring at nothing. In less than a minute, his cannon fired.

One Career down, another to go, I thought bitterly to myself.

I was almost done here. Just a few more tributes to go. I will home soon if I hold onto survival and let the arena kill the rest of the tributes. So, standing up and leaving the dagger in Leo's chest, I collected all the supplies and went through them to see what I got.

The art of manipulation and statistics is a powerful weapon for the intelligent mind.

.o0o.

I woke up with a gasp, waking from that horrible memory. My body was covered in a cold sweat and shaken from the sudden cold. I grabbed my head, yanking my hair to a point it hurt. That was the second time I turned into a tribute the Capitol wanted to see. The first time I snapped, I killed Static with his garrote wire in an ironic death by slitting his throat as he did with Mike. Leo's death was a trap I came up with during the kiss. Remembering he was a Career and killed many children for pride and honor. The day I killed Leo was the day the Capitol titled me the Silver Heart Maiden.

"Hey, you okay?" a voice asked softly.

I flinched about to attack the owner when I saw familiar eyes, then stopped. I almost forgot Cinna was here to keep me company. Then again, Cinna has made it a habit to come into my room while I'm asleep to prepare me for any event. His excuse was that he was trying to get me more beauty sleep. He is usually quiet and has been careful not to disturb me. However, this was the first time he saw me after having a nightmare. Or at least one that I react harshly to.

I sighed, not looking him in the eyes. "Yeah."

"Another nightmare?" he asked.

"Yeah," was all I could say.

Cinna made his way over as he sat on the bed, tucking a strand of hair off my face, "How many nightmares do you get in a week?"

I calculated the estimations of how much I actually sleep without taking medication or alcohol. "Probably four. Been having them since after the games. It's nothing you should worry about. "

"Blaine, you don't need to hold back," Cinna murmured, wrapping his arm around me. "Let some out. What are these dreams about?"

I sighed, resting my head on his shoulder, preventing myself not to cry from the first year I became Victor. "Usually…. usually, they are the games. Michael's death, the tributes I killed, the mutts, and such. But most are deviant. Nightmares of my fears, snakes, and people I love getting killed, and such." I sobbed, bringing my legs to my chest, and cried. "Unknown futures that'll possibly come true."

"Have you seen a doctor about this?" Cinna asked, surprised to hear this.

I shook my head, "Once, he gave me medication, but….it made me feel worse. No matter how much I slept…I felt so numb. I tossed them away. My prep team introduced me to ecstasy pills…that I got addicted. I wasn't even seventeen. All the drugs… I almost fell into…. I almost overdose if it weren't for Finnick."

Cinna's eyes narrowed hearing that I had almost overdosed. I wasn't proud of many things during my first year as a Victor. My depression was horrible, and I probably grazed death so many times that I lost count.

A part of me wanted to shut the conversation down. Change the subject, and focus on the upcoming concert. However, the look Cinna gave me unlocked one of the many darkest moments of my life that I tried to keep hidden.

As the words came out.

.o0o.

I felt like I sold my soul to the devil. It has been three months since my game. The third time being in the Capitol this past year, yet each visit has brought sorrow. Not even last month, two months after the game, I was summoned to meet with President Snow.

I wasn't myself, not the same girl I once was. I practically was suicidal and attempted cutting myself if Haymitch hadn't accidentally waltzed into the bathroom when I was about to slight my wrist. Immediately he yanked me off the floor, chastising me for how stupid I was. I was so depressed; I couldn't stop hearing the fallen tributes' screams. Sick and tired of everyone back at District 12 looking at me like some damaged girl. Haymitch comforted me by handing me a bottle of alcohol, saying drinking the pain was better. The following week Effie called about an audience with President Snow.

President Snow offered me a support fund, or so I thought. When I asked what this support fund was, he said an opportunity to interact with other people who understand me. I thought he was talking about skills and chatting with other mentors. Instead, President Snow elaborated that he was talking about being a singer and other means, in other words…prostitution. I spat in his face, never saying, even with the threat of killing the people I love. I had no one at the time. Haymitch was a crowd-pleaser on humiliation, and Effie was a Capitol citizen. Everyone I cared for was essential to the Capitol or six feet under.

However, President Snow simply said, "I have my ways."

When I got home, I went back into my depression. I was at the Hob, trying to find items and give money away. Anything to relieve the guilt in what happened to Mike. I winced just thinking his preferred name hurt. Then all of a sudden, the ground shook. Everyone knew what it meant since there was a mining accident last year.

When I got there, all I saw was chaos. Spouses and partners restrained the children as the medical team rushed in to aid those who managed to escape. Chaos. Utter chaos, as Peacekeepers stepped in trying to maintain order, preventing the civilians who were not miners to not go down. The constant memories, as the little girl in me searched for my mother. Until the realization struck that my mom was dead long ago.

Knowing I was in the way, I walked back to the Victors' Village.

The moment I got home, the phone was ringing.

And when I answered it, the voice of President Snow replied, "I have my ways."

(But I never told Cinna this.)

The following week I was back at the Capitol singing. There was a slight Compromise, as President Snow wanted to focus on my singing. I tried negotiating and having Effie as my manager, and President Snow agreed to the term. Effie soon made connections to Simon, and Simon searched for songs that showed an outer District girl. We worked on songs similar to the folk songs the Covey would sing.

And yet, the guilt was eating me alive. The stress of making a mistake and causing another mining accident. My prep Team tried to help, as they introduced me to these special pills saying they would make me feel good. And for a time, they did make me feel good. Until it was worse off, and the pain and sorrow consumed me. As I took more than the recommended amount.

It was after a long day of recording. My throat was raw, and I sang a song that had me in tears. I know Simon is trying to bring the raw emotions out of me. But he pushed me too far. I nearly shut down on the drive back and masked myself to Effie, telling her to go home and rest.

When I returned to the Training Center, I ordered an Avox for a strong drink while pulling out the special pills my prep team gave me. I was emotionally unstable and took them while drinking brandy. The cozy feeling, I was getting was not coming fast enough. I needed an escape. I need to feel something good. I was probably on my fifth pill and third brandy when Finnick came waltzing through the door. The 65th Victor and I were acquaintances starting from his victory tour, and the two games when I was a preteen. The last time I saw him was before the crowning ceremony, as he found me sobbing on the roof. He held me in his arms, providing some comfort.

I can barely remember much. Only that Finnick stood in shock, staring at me as I sat on the couch. His tan skin turned red, eyes narrow, as his sea-green eyes became a hurricane. He started to yell at me. Demanding what I was doing. I can't remember the exact words, as the drugs were finally taking effect. I ignored him, about to take a sixth pill, when he grabbed the container and threw them across the room.

We ended up in a violent argument until I was tripping over nothing. Finnick ordered an Avox to get a tonic. Roughly he grabbed my arm and dragged me out of the living room. I tried to shove him off, yet he kept a stern hold on me, straight into my bedroom and into the bathroom. The Avox arrived with the tonic, and Finnick told her to get rid of any of the pills. She complied and left. I was going to argue until Finnick shoved the shot glass of tonic and forced me to drink it.

A minute later, I was puking. Reaching the toilet in time as the drugs and brandy hurled its way up my throat. The foul taste of chemicals and alcohol burned my tongue.

"What the hell were you thinking!" Finnick growled, holding my hair up as I puked into the toilet. "You're better than this, Blaine."

"I just want the screaming to stop." I cried, covering my face, ashamed. "Mike's gone, my best friend is gone, and I've done nothing!"

"Mike wouldn't want you to be like this," Finnick sighed, pulling me away from the toilet.

Seeing how disheveled I was, he sighed, taking his coat off. I was numb, sobbing tears, unaware of what was happening. Finnick stripped my outer clothes, leaving me in my tank top and underwear. He picked me up and carried me to the shower, setting me down. He had already taken his clothes off except for his briefs. He turned on the shower as a waterfall poured over us. My body was shaking from the side effects of the drugs and alcohol. But Finnick held me tightly until my body calmed down from the high.

"Why do you care?" I whispered.

"Because I don't want to lose somebody special," Finnick answered, kissing my forehead. "You're young, Blaine. You got a lot to learn. My dad once said it's not about stopping. It's about control."

"What is that supposed to mean?"

"It means a calm mind is the best lore there is."

.o0o.

"So Finnick helped you through your recovery," Cinna started when I got out of the shower.

"Yeah, for a few months, Finnick would visit me at the Training Center when Effie taught me proper etiquette and recordings. Also, there for the Victory Tour in District Four, as he showed the area and sat next to me at the dinner." I answered, already dressed in a pair of yoga pants and a sweater. I led the way out to the main room sitting on the couch. "Every time I was invited to an event…before I became a…before I went on dates…. Finnick would make sure I stay away from alcohol and drugs."

"But I've seen you drink?" Cinna announced as he sat down next to me.

"When I turned Eighteen, Finnick saw I had improved. He suggested I drink fruity spike beverages instead of full-on alcohol. That's why I barely drink in District 12…or with Haymitch except for the holidays." I said, curling my legs. "Finnick and I became the best of siblings. He would do anything to make sure I kept calm…. Sorry, you had to hear all this."

"No, no, don't apologize over something that's important," Cinna said, taking my hand. "You have been through a lot of things that are impossible to tell anybody. I may not truly understand how a victor feels after the games, but I can guess how overwhelming it is."

"Cinna…." I started.

"Blaine, you probably don't realize this, but maybe all your guilt is reflecting on your nightmares," he said. "You blame yourself for Mike's death even when you two were no longer in an alliance. You blame yourself for killing those tributes from before because it was optional. You need to realize that your actions are self-preservation."

"Please stop saying that," I whispered, pulling my hand away.

"I'm sorry. I just wish there was a way to free you from this burden," he said, standing up and walking towards the window.

I smiled slightly at his condolences. Cinna truly wanted to know everything that was about the other Victors and me. Only The question is which problem? Each Victor suffered differently and has support. Although, sometimes, you can take the person out of the arena when winning. But you can't take the adrenaline inside the person who suffered. Most desire revenge, others quench justice, and some seek purpose.

Like I said long ago, "… it's the slow knife that takes its time, the knife that waits years without forgetting that slips quietly in between the bones and cuts the deepest."

A knife is different from a gun.

It brought back a conversation with Damon when I was dragged into the Profit Circle. The master of interrogation once said, "Do you want to know why I use a knife? Guns are too quick. You can't savor all the... little emotions. You see in their last moments. People show you who they really are."

There was no hope for me

I got myself in deep water.

As I stared at Cinna, who looked out the window. A good man who should not be invested in me. I am unworthy of having an equal companion. And yet, I wanted him. But it is dangerous to protect him with those I am associated with.

This Chapter was inspired by Nikita, The Dark Knight, and The Dark Knight Rises.

Thanks for reading, and please review!