Blaine Abernathy: A Canary Caged Chapter 36: The Concert, a hunger games fanfic

Blaine Abernathy: A Canary Caged

Disclaimer: I do not own the Hunger Games or the songs

Chapter 36: The Concert

Blaine's POV

I woke up feeling nervous about what was going to come tonight. It would be the first concert of the winter season. At least this concert is toned down compared to the last several concerts that were highly demanding on energy. I don't know if I should be thankful that Simon had chosen these songs. Hence the name Lament.

Although lament music is slower. Its definition says differently. Lament means to mourn aloud; to express sorrow, mourning, or regret often demonstratively, but most importantly, to strongly regret. Half the songs I will be singing are not laments. Yet there were dark-themed songs.

I start my day writing in a journal to get any thoughts out of my head. I grabbed it and a pen and started writing.

For over five years, I have lived in secret… hiding in the conspiracy, alone in the world. Until now. Usually, I would smile, and it would be believable. This morning is different. There's a change, a good change. I know it…feel it. I'm awake. I feel completely and undeniably wide awake for the once in a long time. For once, I don't fear the future before it happens. I welcome today and tomorrow. Because I know I will see him again. For the first time in a long time, somebody who wasn't a Victor made me smile, that wasn't fake, understood me before saying a word, and downright comforted me. I thought I would never feel these emotions, which is a step under love. I spent so long thinking I would be a prostitute and have no love life. Now I want to know what love is….and Cinna might show me in our little secret.

I finished writing in my journal after putting down the date. I have had this specific journal since I became a Victor. Lyme said writing things down would help ease the pain. I have two journals. One personal and the other for the Hunger Games.

I thought there was hope that somewhere deep inside… something in myself was still me. But I can't find myself anymore. I can still hear the screams of the fallen tributes. When I go to sleep, nightmares plague me about those I killed, and the moment I wake, I see blood on my hands. Haymitch tried to help me through the process after waking up from shock in the recovery room after the games. Those last few days were the most horrible days in my entire existence. When I look in the mirror now, I can tell the changes the doctors did to me. This wasn't my body. This isn't my hair. And this wasn't me. Complaining won't solve anything. I just have to endure it and hope for the better of things. Blaine Maysilee Abernathy is dead. The Capitol killed her the moment her name was called at the reaping. I am nothing but a shadow.

I got off the bed and watched the sunrise from the window. "Well, that is about to change."

.o0o.

After getting ready, I returned to the stadium for the final rehearsals wearing many costumes after many rehearsals, interviews, and parties. It has been hectic, singing songs from previous soundtracks and albums late at night. A few parties here and there as the paparazzi breathed down my neck. All I do is smile, pose, and walk down carpets into the events. Cinna and I kept our relationship well hidden from the public. When newspapers post pictures of us, they title our conceptual friendship. Cinna would shake his head, amused, insulting his fellow citizens in how blind they genuinely are. I agreed. Then again, most Capitol citizens are misguided.

I stood in the dressing room, preparing for the concert. There were many outfits, yet Cinna and Portia made it easy for the outfits to be one, that layers coming off. There were at least three solid outfits, making fifteen looks. Portia was in the dressing room as she did my hair, slick back in a tight bun. She added some tricks that will make easy changes throughout the shows. Followed by my makeup, bringing up the Lady of Ashes, with dark red lips and smokey eyes. The only piece of jewelry was a pair of blacky crystal earrings.

Portia secured the undergarments before getting the first outfit on. It was a black gown. It had sleeveless shoulders and a sensuous scoop neckline that set a sultry precedent at the bodice, and a sheer insert secured a pretty plunge at the center front. Tailoring lines form a curve-defining fit at the bust and midriff, and sheer and solid layers ripple along the flared, full-length skirt. An opulent, off-the-shoulder overlay ruffles to the feet. Although there were fitted pants underneath.

There was elegance in the dress, from the textures to the designs. The dress was definitely Portia's creation, while the overlay was Cinna's. All the outfits were elegant and graceful. Nothing sexy.

"Thirty minutes!" A stagehand called out.

Portia helped me put on a pair of black boots with a slight heel. Easy to dance in and comfortable to wear. I was thankful that my stylists had chosen comfortable shoes. Nothing crazy from the previous concert or at parties.

So, applying finish touches, a stage crew knocked on the door, telling me it was time to get on stage. We quickly rushed to the stage basement, where a platform was waiting. Portia made the final adjustment as a crew member put the earwig on, so I could hear the music and communicate with the director. I took deep breaths doing a quick warm-up.

Followed by a quick sip of water.

"Sixty seconds" someone shouted.

"Break a leg," Portia murmured.

Everyone got out of the way as I got into positions.

"Breathe," I whispered to myself. "Just breathe."

I was given the microphone as a dark melody began to play.

Already the floor vibrated from the pounding of the audience's cheers and anticipation for my performance. I am escorted under the stage, standing on a transport. The stage crew talked through their headset, saying I was ready, and started the music. I smiled, getting into position with the microphone close to my lips, a hand on my hip and legs apart.

Welcome to your life

There's no turning back

Even while we sleep

I sang into the microphone as the plate began to lift me up on stage. The lighter was blinding. The crowd cheered, making the metal around me rattle under my feet. Yet the flash of lights vanished, and the monitor appeared behind me, playing a visual of black wings. I stood in place, staring at the void while the backup dancers followed the choreography.

This is the start of how it all ends

They used to shout my name, now they whisper it

I'm speeding up and this is theWe will find you

Acting on your best behavior

Turn your back on Mother Nature

Everybody wants to rule the world

It's my own desire

It's my own remorse

Help me to decide

Help me make the most of freedom

And of pleasure

Nothing ever lasts forever

Everybody wants to rule the world

There's a room where the light won't find you

Holding hands while the walls come tumbling down

When they do, I'll be right behind you

So glad we've almost made it

So sad we had to fade it

Everybody wants to rule the world

I took several deep breaths as I glanced at the audience before staring at the side stage where Cinna was holding the clicker that would do his magic. I gave him a small smile as I prepared myself for the next song. The overlay changed colors to yellow while feathers sprouted along the edges.

The crowd cheered upon seeing the changes.

I'm a princess cut from marble, smoother than a storm

And the scars that mark my body, they're silver and gold

My blood is a flood of rubies, precious stones

It keeps my veins hot, the fire's found a home in me

I move through district, I'm quite like a fight

And my necklace is of rope, I tie it and untie it

And now people talk to me, but nothing ever hits home

People talk to me, and all the voices just burn holes

I'm done with it (Ooh)

This is the start of how it all ends

They used to shout my name, now they whisper it

I'm speeding up and this is the

Red, orange, yellow flicker beat sparking up my heart

We're at the start, the colors disappear

I never watch the stars, there's so much down here

So I just try to keep up with them

Red, orange, yellow flicker beat sparking up my heart

There are times I believe I'm dreaming because there was a purpose and skills to be standing here with a crowd who decided to come to my concert. An optional choice instead of a nurturing process in the Capitol. The only downside in this, only citizens from the Capitol see my performance, not those from the districts. I inhaled, smiling under a mask as I continued to sing. Ripping off the skirt while keeping the overlay on exposing the fitted pants.

I dream all year, but they're not the sweet kinds

And the shivers move down my shoulder blades in double time

And now people talk to me I'm slipping out of reach now

People talk to me, and all their faces blur

But I got my fingers laced together and I made a little prison

And I'm locking up everyone who ever laid a finger on me

I'm done with it (Ooh)

Red, orange, yellow flicker beat sparking up my heart

We're at the start, the colors disappear

I never watch the stars, there's so much down here

So I just try to keep up with them

Red, orange, yellow flicker beat sparking up my heart

And this is the red, orange, yellow flicker beat

Sparking up my heart

And this is the red, orange, yellow flicker beat-beat-beat-beat

Time went on as I sang songs that Simon had chosen. I do make a mental note they are on the bridge of rebellion. But somehow, President Snow or his council had approved my songs. So, I sang proudly, showing my emotions. For once, I was singing songs about how I felt.

An hour later, the concert was about to end, and the crowd was getting restless for an encore. I was in the final dress, a strapless black gown that had a straight across neckline with a small jewel embellishment. The dress is form-fitting and beaded in beautiful sparkly embellishments. Followed by a refined silhouette that flares to the floor in a full-length hem. It has the illusion of raindrops or snowflakes on a black drop. My hair was free in natural waves, while my feet were bare.

I sat on the grand piano center stage with the Capitol's finest pianist, surrounded in darkness. A lone light shines above us as smoke sways around. The handheld microphone in hand, listening to the soft alluring music.

I don't know where I am

I don't know this place

Don't recognize anybody

Just the same old empty face

See these people, they lie

And I don't know who to believe anymore

But there comes you

To keep me safe from harm

There comes you

To take me in your arms

Is it just a game?

I don't know

Is it just a game?

I don't know

Pleading eyes that break my heart

So homesick I can't feel

But I know I must play my part

And tears I must conceal

There comes you

To keep me safe from harm

There comes you

To take me in your arms

Is it just a game?

I don't know

To keep you safe from my bow

Take my hand and my heart races

Flames illuminate our faces

And we are on fire

Blow a kiss to the crowd

They're our only hope now

And now I know my place

We're all just pieces in their games

Finally, the lights went out.

.o0o.

After the encore, I could hear the crowd cheering and applauding for the season's first performance. I thanked the pianist before walking backstage and handing the microphone over. Portia smiled, as did Cinna, though we made our way to the dressing room. Cinna started putting the dresses away while Portia helped me undress and change into comfortable clothes.

I sighed in relief as the constricting outfit came off and my face washed.

Suddenly the doors burst open as Effie came in. "Perfect, perfect, perfect. You did wonderful, Blaine."

"Thanks, Ef- "Effie silenced me as she placed a finger on my lips.

"No talking," She instructed. "We mustn't strain that beautiful voice."

I sighed, stepping away. Portia chuckled, shaking her head. I wanted to talk to Cinna about the last song. He has seen me sing it at rehearsals but has not addressed it. Now that I sang it to the public, what were his thoughts?

I seriously don't know what our relationship is. We were in a relationship but decided not to be public and display it. Keeping it a secret until after the Quarter Quells. Yet I was still afraid for his safety.

As I stood there watching him put the gowns away.

Before I could talk to him, Effie and Portia dragged me out of the dressing room and out of the stadium.

.o0o.

I sighed, relaxing in the limo after a late-night of the concert. Alone in peaceful silence without the roaring crowds, music, or anything. When I opened my eyes, I saw another bouquet of flowers. Sunflowers, this time, there were seventeen. I picked up the card to conclude the same insignia on the onyx paper. Whoever was sending me these bouquets has my undivided attention. Flipping the card to see a scripture written in silver ink on the back.

A Mockingjay cannot be without the Jabberjay and the Mockingbird.

If To Kill a Mockingbird falls, then the Jabberjay pays the toll.

Mockingjay is a face of freedom, but a Jabberjay is the voice of reason.

One seeks revolution, while the other seeks revelation.

Though from the same womb in which they know.

One rises from fire than the other in the burning ashes of snow.

-JJ

Something was not right. I reread the card and gazed out the window in deep thought. Something was definitely not right. And the thought of Mockingjay was directed to Katniss with her token, but the Jabberjay was questioned. Who was this Jabberjay this JJ keeps talking about. A voice of reason made me think of Peeta; then again, Peeta seems to follow Katniss on most occasions, especially when running away. The last stanza caught my attention. One rises from the fire, than the other in burning ash of snow.

Katniss was the Girl on Fire.

And I was the Lady of Ashes.

.o0o.

Sleep eluded me once more after tonight's concert. I couldn't sleep, complete confusion about what was going on. Ever since Katniss pulled out those poisonous berries, the entire country started to corrupt. And I see the Girl on Fire rise; I mellow in the shadows from her ashes which get the beating. Fire burns, leaving a trail of ash, and the ashes are blamed for the mess it makes. My friendship with Katniss is debatable after everything I have done behind her back. I spied, reported, and manipulated her in more ways than a loyal friend or associate should ever do. The knife that is patience can be elusive. A blade can be sharper on the edge of betrayal.

I know I'm a traitor to my district, at least to the victors who survive through hell. I know if word breaks on the whispering facts I gave to the enemy, all shall crumble. Haymitch is more loyal to Katniss than me, and I feel distant from my father. Maybe our connection faded so long before Katniss came into play? I don't know anymore.

But I know one thing, I'm feeling homesick. I want to go back home and spend a day with my dad instead of performing a concert or whatever. I'd missed the holidays spent with him, and I wondered if he was still alive and not dead drunk. It's official, I'm coming home. Four days were enough of a break, and the gang was leaving for Katniss's wedding shoot in a few weeks. A perfect excuse to see my cats, Peeta and Katniss, and my father, Haymitch.

With a sigh of relief, I closed my eyes and went to sleep.

Songs used:

Everybody wants to rule the world by Lorde

Yellow Flicker Beat by Lorde

Is it just a Game by Birdy

Journal letter inspired by The Vampire Dairies