Crunch, crunch, crunch. Stop. Crunch, crunch, crunch. Stop. Crunch, crunch…
My eyes were riveted to Bannocks boots as he paced back and forth, boots crunching and grinding against the stone floor. He had taken his fathers death strangely. It filled him with energy and anxiety preventing him from standing still. He cracked his knuckles and shook out his fingers, mumbling under his breath continuously.
"Fuck, where are you, Maggie?" He mumbled against his fingers. "Fuck, fuck, fuck."
His wife, Maggie, hadn't been at the bakery that day as she usually was. The pregnancy was really taking its toll and grandmother had suggested bed rest at home. Before Bannock left for work that morning, she'd told him she might go to her parent's house, or, if she felt up to it, swing by Peeta's wrestling tournament.
The uncertainty was eating him.
The basement was mostly silent. At my side, Peeta sat as still as a statue. I suspected he'd gone into shock, because regardless of how often I attempted to reach him with gentle touches and murmurs he remained unresponsive.
Peeta's mother stood by the table. She'd pulled out Peeta's old baby blanket from a crate, the one she'd been saving for his first born, and draped it over Mr. Mellark's face. I didn't understand why, but she was openly enraged, her face set in a frown. She hadn't spilt a single tear yet or spoken a word.
In fact, no one had cried. The only person who appeared to be having a normal reaction was Elsie, who sat in a far corner, almost completely engulfed by Rye, who held her in his lap as she sobbed into her knees.
Prim had eventually made her way to our corner and sat at our feet. Peeta hadn't even turned his head in acknowledgement, he was so far gone. Prim laid her cheek against my knee and closed her eyes, her body trembling ever so slightly.
My mind was going a mile a minute. What was happening outside? How long would we have to stay down here? How did this happen?
The stillness was broken when a smashing sound reached us from above the stairs. Everyone froze. Bannock was the only one who sprung into action, running up the stairs to hold the door closed with his body. Prim shrieked at the loud noises that followed. I assumed that one of the doors had broken down. What sounded like thousands of footsteps ran across the floor above us. Peeta gasped at my side.
"Get behind the boxes," Peeta told me, grasping Prims shoulders and pushing her towards me. "Stay hidden, go!"
I hesitated for a moment as I watched him follow Bannock up the stairs to help block the door, Rye following behind not even a moment after. I pulled Prim into the circle of my arms and crouched low to the ground behind a wooden crate, my heart hammering against my ribs.
"Clear!" a foreign voice shouted above us as footsteps continued to skid across the floor. "Search every room."
"Katniss," Prim whispered against my neck, her voice trembling. "Katniss, what do we do?"
"Shh," I said, running a trembling hand down her golden braids.
"Mellark family! Failure to comply will result in immediate execution!" Someone shouted above us.
"Bannock!" his mother shouted, her voice trembling slightly. "Boys, don't."
"Failure to comply is in direct violation of Panemian authority," the Peacekeeper shouted beyond the basement's door, a warning. Bannock turned back to look at us, his eyes running over each of our faces in turn.
He squared his shoulders. "Go back downstairs, kids." He whispered to his brothers, waiting a moment for Rye and Peeta to walk away. They did, reluctantly, stopping to stand at the base of the stairs, their eyes never leaving him.
Bannock turned back towards the door and pulled it open with one hand, the other raised up in surrender. I pulled Prim closer against me.
"We're here," Bannock said. A bright light pierced the darkness of the basement as the Peacekeeper on the other side brandished his rifle, the flashlight on the barrel shinning into Bannocks eyes. He squinted and took a step to the side. The Peacekeeper swept the light across the room. "We haven't committed any crime."
The Peacekeeper shoved his way past him. Bannock was pushed flush against the wall as a stream of six armed men descended into the room, rifles up and ready to fire.
"Everyone up!" a Peacekeeper shouted, pushing Peeta and Rye into the middle of the room by the tip of his rifle. Both brothers held their arms up in surrender.
"Single file, arms above your heads!" another Peacekeeper shouted. We shakily did as we'd been told. Prim stood at my side. I held her against me, pressing onto Peeta's side simultaneously.
"Arms up!" a Peacekeeper insisted, nudging Prim with his gun. Instinctively I stepped forward, a protective arm extended between her and the armed man. The Peacekeeper wasted no time in hitting me across the face with the barrel of his gun.
"Hey!" Peeta and Rye shouted, but Peeta, who was closest, shoved the Peacekeeper away from me. Prim began to sob at my side. I held a hand up to my right cheek, the stinging pain momentarily blinding me.
My vision returned in time to watch the Peacekeeper slam the butt of his gun against Peeta's head, a woman shrieked, and it took me a second to realize it was me. Elsie's sobs worsened as the Peacekeeper shoved Peeta down to his knees.
"Hands up!" The Peacekeeper shouted; the barrel of his gun trained against Peeta's head. Peeta raised his hands, his shoulders tensed in anger.
"Search them," another Peacekeeper commanded from where he stood near the stairs. He held no gun but appeared to be in charge.
I held myself back from immediately punching the Peacekeeper who roughly patted his hands up and down my body, squeezing his hands against my coat pockets and shoving his hands into the back pockets of my pants unnecessarily. Another couple of Peacekeepers began to overturn the storage crates around the room, scattering the families' mementos and winter bedding across the dirty floor.
"Clear!" The Peacekeeper who'd just finished patting Prim down shouted, taking a step back. The one in charge strode across the room. He wore no helmet so I could see he was a fierce-looking middle-aged man with a horrible scar running down the left side of his face. His ice-cold blue eyes ran across our faces as he stepped around us, walking over to where Mr. Mellark's corpse lay undisturbed on the table.
"Cause of death?" he asked in a sharp commanding tone. A nearby Peacekeeper stepped forward.
"Gun shot wound, sir." He replied in a crisp, militaristic tone.
The helmet-less Peacekeeper walked back around us turning to face us with his hands neatly clasped.
"What was your father doing on the streets?" he asked.
No one answered right away as it was unclear who he was speaking to. After a tense beat of confusion, Bannock spoke up.
"He was trying to protect our family from the riot, sir. It happened just outside our front door." His voice started off somewhat unsure but solidified by the end of his statement.
"Why was your family outside during the riot?" the Peacekeeper asked, and this time Bannock did not hesitate to respond.
"My younger brother was participating in the wrestling tournament; they were just walking home." Another Peacekeeper nudged Peeta with his gun. Something boiled in my stomach at the sight.
"This one's wearing a wrestling uniform, sir." He reported, using his gun to point at Peeta's blood-stained t-shirt. The worlds 'Boys Wrestling. District 12.' Were spelled across his chest in black letters.
The helmet-less Peacekeeper nodded. "Have you seen any suspicious activity?" he directed his words directly to Bannock this time, his eyes locked on his face.
"No, sir." Bannock replied. "We've been working all day."
The Peacekeeper nodded again, raising his arm. Immediately every other Peacekeeper lowered their weapons in a practiced manner, holding them up across their chests as they did when they patrolled the district's perimeter.
"At ease. We're done here. Good day, Mellarks." He turned away from us as the other Peacekeepers climbed up the stairs, he turned back to us for a moment before he followed himself. "Panem thanks you for your loyalty."
I fell to my knees immediately after they'd left the room, pulling Peeta against me. Mrs. Mellark senior leaned heavily on Bannock having lost her cane sometime earlier, and sat on an overturned crate with his assistance. Peeta's arms slowly raised to circle around my shoulders, pressing me hard against him in return.
"Oh my God," he whispered against the side of my head. "Oh God, oh God, oh God."
My nose was running, I must have started to cry at some point earlier. "I thought he was gonna shoot you." I confessed against his neck, salty sweat falling into my mouth.
"Oh my God," Peeta repeated against my head.
"I need to find Maggie," Bannock announced, already running up the stairs. "I—please stay here, okay?" he called back as he stepped out the door.
"Come on, baby." Rye said softly, pulling Elsie towards the stairs. "Let's go upstairs. You need to lie down."
I watched Rye and Elsie climb up the stairs without moving my face away from Peeta's neck. Elsie could barely walk straight; she was crying so hard. Peeta continued to squeeze me against him, so I made no effort to stand up myself, but I didn't doubt my inability to stand then anyways. Mrs. Mellark offered Mrs. Mellark senior her hand and took her up the stairs herself. After a moment, grandmother, with her arm around Prims skinny shoulders, followed as well.
"Peeta," I whispered, interrupting Peeta's shocked mumblings regarding a long-forgotten deity. "Peeta, we can't stay down here. You need to go to bed."
"Bed?" he asked as if he'd never heard of the concept. I nodded against him, pulling myself away from him and climbing to my feet.
"Yes, bed. Come on." I grasped him by both hands and tried to pull him up. He shakily stood. "Come, let's go to your room."
We climbed the stairs, gripping each others' hands as if our lives depended on it. Once we made it to the door, I shut it softly behind us trying not to think about Mr. Mellark's body.
Everyone had gone upstairs to the Mellark's apartment. It had clearly been searched. Couch cushions were scattered across the floor, various of the Mellark's belongings had been pulled out of drawers and closets carelessly.
I pulled Peeta into the small bathroom he'd shared with his family for most of his life, tugging his blood-stained shirt up and over his head. The dried blood had pasted itself to his skin, making pulling the shirt off a lot like pulling old glue off the skin. Peeta showed no outward reaction. He stepped up to the sink and turned the tap open, scrubbing his hands and arms with the rough yellow soap his mother kept on a dish by the sink.
I held the shirt in my hands, dipping the clean portion into the water Peeta was washing up with, and using it to scrub off some of the blood that ended up on his face. There was blood in his hair as well, as he'd run his hands through it nervously. I tried to wipe it away, but he would need a bath to clean up properly.
Once he'd finished, he shut off the tap and shook his hands over the sink, water flying everywhere. He turned back towards me and scrubbed his wet hands over my face, cleaning me and soothing my swollen cheek simultaneously.
"Okay," he whispered. "Okay."
I nodded. Peeta wiped his hands off against the front of the red singlet he still wore. I pulled him by the hand, out the bathroom, and down the hall to his old bedroom. I twisted the knob and pushed the door open, meeting Rye's eyes immediately.
"Hey," he whispered hoarsely. He lay on his side on Bannocks old bed. It was a double bed, pushed against the right side of the room. Elsie lay with him, her face pressed into his chest, sound asleep. I nodded at him.
"Hey," I whispered in return, tugging Peeta along and stopping at the side of his old bed. The mattress had been pulled off the frame, so I picked it back up. He had the bottom bunk. He'd shared the bunk bed with Rye up until a few months ago, when Rye got married and moved out. Peeta and I sat on the edge. I bent to remove my boots as Peeta fell backwards onto the bed, his head thumping against the wall.
"Peeta," I whispered, turning my head to look at him. His neck was bent weird, head turned away from the wall. His eyes landed on me. "You need to change."
He nodded his head and pulled himself back into sitting. I crawled across the bed and onto the side against the wall. Peeta searched the dresser. Every drawer was open, some were even on the floor.
I watched him, unblinking, as he changed. He'd located a ratty old shirt I hadn't seen on him in years. He pulled his pants down and peeled the singlet off, pulling the t-shirt over his head and slipping back into his sweatpants. He kicked the singlet into the corner of the room and turned back to me, crawling onto the other side of the bed.
"Good night, Rye." I whispered against Peeta's collarbone, huddling close to him on the mattress. Thankfully there had been no reason to sell or throw away Peeta's old blanket yet so we pulled that over us. There was no pillow as Peeta had taken that with him to our house.
"Night," Rye mumbled in return. I pressed my nose against Peeta's skin and tried to fall asleep. Peeta squeezed me tightly against him.
Someone knocked on the bedroom doorway some hours later. My eyes turned towards the intruder and fell on my mothers-in-law's face. I hadn't slept, too preoccupied with thinking about all the people we knew who might now be dead. Peeta slept fitfully against me, clearly having a nightmare. I was about to wake him anyways.
"What time is it?" I asked, sitting up.
Mrs. Mellark's eyes dropped down to the slim yet elegant watch she wore. She turned back to me. "It's 4:30, as usual." She whispered. Her eyes landed on Rye and Elsie then returned to me. "We need to bury Bran today."
I nodded and turned my eyes back to Peeta. He hadn't woken up yet. "I'll wake them."
Mrs. Mellark nodded and stepped out of the room, turning towards the living room, and walking away.
"Peeta," I whispered, shaking his shoulder. "I need you to wake up."
He groaned, blinking. It took him a moment to return to wakefulness before he sat up. "What's going on?" he asked, scratching his head. I noticed flakes of dried blood falling from his head.
"Your mom wants us to get up," I answered crawling to the edge of the bed. I pulled the elastic off the end of my nearly unraveled braid. "I want you to eat something."
"Hm," he dropped his feet onto the floor. He'd worn his boots to bed. "Okay."
"Rye," I said in a louder voice. Rye stirred somewhat. "Rye, get up."
My brother-in-law opened his eyes. He looked over at me. "About that time?"
I nodded pulling my fingers through my hair to untangle it. I stood up.
"Peeta, let's go." I motioned towards the door with my chin, still combing my hair and walked out into the hall barefoot. He followed me into the bathroom.
"Do you think Bannock is okay?" He asked me while yanking his boot off with a hand on the sink. I pursed my lips.
"I don't know," I admitted. "I hope Maggie's okay."
"Yeah," Peeta agreed pulling his shirt off and jumping into the shower. He pulled the curtain closed, presumably to spare me from having to watch him undress. "Delly and Davey too."
I nodded despite not being able to see him. I sat on the closed toilet seat. I really wanted to pee but there was no way I was doing that with him in the room. He tossed his clothes over the top of the curtain and turned the shower on. I dropped my head into my hands.
"I swear if Gale got arrested last night." I squeezed my eyes shut.
"He didn't, he had Vick and Rory with him." Peeta said. I cocked my head, considering that. "He went straight home, Katniss."
I really hoped so. The smell of soap filled the room. I stood up and walked over to the sink. I hadn't braided my hair yet.
"Why do you think…?" I trailed off, braiding my hair with quick fingers. My right cheek looked awful but at least the gun hadn't broken the skin.
"No idea," he replied. "Other than the usual, you know?"
I nodded, tying the end of my hair with my elastic. I turned on the sink to wash my face. I took a long drink of cold water.
Peeta shut off the shower, I looked around for a towel. There was one hanging on the back of the door, so I tossed it over. I leaned against the sink and waited for him.
He was slightly pink from scrubbing himself. He smiled at me. "You should take a shower now, while you can. I bet the cemetery is busy today."
I frowned stepping aside to pick up his discarded clothes. I handed them to him, wadded up into a ball. "Okay, but don't go too far."
He nodded back at me and walked out the door, I looked around and quickly opened it back up, sticking my neck out.
"Peeta!" I hissed; he stopped in his tracks to look at me. "Get me a towel."
The family gathered in the living room. Every seat already taken. Peeta sat next to Prim and his grandmother on the couch. He caught my hand as I walked by and pulled me down to sit squeezed between him and Prim.
Elsie sat with Rye on one of the armchairs, looking emotional still. He rubbed his hands up and down her arms, shushing her gently. Grandmother sat on the other armchair. Peeta's mother stood before us, visibly affected by recent events.
"We need to get word to Bannock to help us carry your father to the cemetery." She began. "It's bound to be busy today. We have shovels in the yard. We'll dig the grave ourselves if we must."
"Mrs. Mellark," Elsie began but the older woman raised her hand.
"Datura." Her eyes landed on me briefly. "My husband is dead, Datura is fine."
"Uh, Datura," Elsie spoke again. "We should try to get word to the rest of the family, for the burial."
Datura nodded. "Right. Rye?"
"Sure, ma." He agreed.
Datura smoothed her hands down the front of her skirt, something she did all the time to her apron. "We'll eat first. I—"
"Let me," Elsie stood quickly. "Please, it's no trouble at all."
"Right." Datura nodded. It was strange for me to see her like this. Shaken. I found I pitied her.
"Peeta and I will clean up the house." I offered. The living room looked much better than it did last night, but most of the house was still in shambles. "We should probably go home to get changed, for the burial." I added, glancing down at the borrowed clothes I was wearing. A shirt from Rye and some old pants that had belonged to each Mellark brother at some point in time.
"Good. We need someone to fix the door," Datura spoke in a rather fragmented manner. "Rye, if you see your uncle in town get him to come with his toolbox."
Rye nodded.
"Okay," Datura nodded to herself, turning to walk down the hallway that led to her bedroom.
"Stay with grandma, okay?" I looked into Prims eyes as I kneeled in front of her. She nodded. "I don't want either of you on the streets. Stay here while we're gone."
"We will, Katniss." She replied. We were standing in the downstairs kitchen at the bakery. We'd done the best we could to clean up, but the windows were all broken, and the front door was destroyed. It had split not quite in half when the lock and hinges held the door in place under the Peacekeepers attack.
"Good," I breathed, pulling my sisters forehead to my lips for a soft kiss. "We'll be back as soon as possible."
"Be careful, please." Grandma warned, standing a step away from us. I looked in her direction. "Watch out for looters."
I nodded. Peeta bent over to give Prim a hug after I took a step back. I embraced my grandmother tightly.
"I'll be back soon," I said turning towards the front of the bakery as grandmother patted Peeta's shoulder wearing a worried smile. We pushed past the swinging doors and headed out the broken front door.
"Wow," I whispered, Peeta whistled beside me, echoing the sentiment.
The square was in ruins. There was no other way to put it. Parts of the shoddily paved space had been ripped out, and if memory served correctly, used as projectiles, leaving random craters on the ground. To my right, the large window at the dressmakers had been smashed, clearly targeted by looters as bolts of fabric and scattered items of clothing lay spilled across the ground. Some shops were still smoldering. The butcher was the worst off, the second story was entirely blackened and appeared on the verge of collapse.
Peeta and I reached for each others' hands, walking cautiously across the square. Peacekeepers patrolled the space, rifles in hand. Both of us avoided looking directly at them.
As we walked past the Justice Building my breath caught in my throat. Peeta glanced at me, following my gaze with his own eyes.
Somehow, someone had ripped the shining silver Capitol crest from the center of the building. It lay propped against the side of the building, where Peacekeepers were attempting to remove the paint that had been used to deface it. In its place, someone had taken the time to curse the president.
"Ey! Scram!" a Peacekeeper shoved us with the barrel of his rifle. Peeta put a hand up in a placating motion.
"Alright, alright." He wrapped his arm around my shoulders. "We're going!"
We made it onto our street with no other issue. A burned Capitol flag lay just outside our house. It must have been stolen from the Justice Building. The house itself showed signs of forcible entry, possibly Peacekeepers, or looters, or both. Inside, our few belongings were strewn across the floor. The icebox had been opened. Our food was gone.
"Crap," I whispered, stepping towards the kitchen without looking. I heard something crack under my boot, startled, I jumped back to take a look.
"Oh no," I lamented, bending down to pick up the picture frame. Carefully I slipped my parents wedding photo out of the broken glass. "Oh, daddy." I whispered, holding it close to my chest.
Peeta squeezed my shoulder as he stepped past me, smiling with sympathy. He looked through our kitchen drawers and crouched low to the ground, twisting backwards to look underneath a drawer. He laughed in surprise.
"Hey, look at what they missed!" He pulled his head out, holding up a creased envelope. "Our savings!"
I smiled at him. At least we hadn't lost everything. I righted our overturned table, setting the picture safely on top.
"We should keep that on us," I suggested.
"That's a good idea," he agreed. "Look. Our picture." He picked up another picture frame off the ground and handed it to me. I swept my fingers across the unmarred glass, smiling down at our blushing faces. I placed the wedding photo next to my parents.
"We should pack," I said looking around the room. "I would rather sleep at the apothecary until we fix up the door."
"Okay." He nodded, wiping the dust off his hands as he stood back up.
In our bedroom most of our clothes remained where we'd left them, only random handfuls had been strewn across the room in what appeared to be a half-hearted search for valuables. I picked up my game bag and started to pack, looking for something to sleep in, trousers, a shirt or two, my reaping day outfit, and an extra pair of shoes.
"Hey, toothbrush," Peeta called from the bathroom. I looked up as he tossed my toothbrush toward me. I packed it with the rest of my clothes.
Once that was done, I went to change into funeral attire. I still had my clothes from my mother's burial, but the pants didn't fit me anymore. I thought that I should give those to Prim. I placed them in my bag.
Peeta came back into the room as I was securing the button on my grey pleated skirt. He wore his reaping shirt and a black pair of pants.
"Ready?" I asked, eying the backpack in his hands. He nodded.
I packed the photos on my way out, tucking them securely between my folded clothes. Peeta and I lingered outside, jarred by the unwelcome reminder of the past twenty-four hours when he attempted to pull the front door shut behind us. Without preamble, the District alarm wailed to life, piecing the morning silence with long low-pitched sirens. I gasped, momentarily transported to the past.
"Peeta," I grasped him by the shirt. "Did the mines open this morning?"
"I don't know," he replied truthfully, laying a hand over the one on his chest. "Let's go to the square, okay?"
I nodded, stepping into the street ahead of him. We walked by a post on our way there, the white speaker attached to it spat out the whining alarm on a constant loop. People came out of their houses, filling the streets. We all walked in the same direction.
In the square, Peacekeepers were spread out at equal distances, holding their weapons at the ready. A line of about fifteen men and women, mainly from the Seam, stood by the front of the Justice Building, hands cuffed together. I looked on in confusion as a Peacekeeper pushed the prisoners forward and towards some new wooden structures that hadn't been there when we walked past earlier.
"Oh no," Peeta whispered, catching my attention. I looked up at him, but he was looking at something else, so I followed his gaze. My breathing stilled when my eyes landed on Gale, standing handcuffed halfway down the line.
"Crap," I said. The alarm stopped; they officially had the District's attention. The fierce looking Peacekeeper from before stepped forward, addressing us all.
"District Twelve. I am Commander Thread." He paused; arms crossed behind his back. "Your District has been found to be lacking in every aspect. By order of the Capitol, law enforcement will be improved. Today, we start by punishing your most useless criminals. District Twelve will abide by the letter of the law." He took a step back, turning his attention back to the prisoners and nodded at another Peacekeeper. The first prisoner was shoved forwards.
"Petty theft. Guilty. Twenty hours in the stocks." The Peacekeeper announced. We watched on in silence as the mans handcuffs were removed, the wooden thing from before unlocked. A Peacekeeper grabbed the man by the back of the neck and forced his head down into the open groove of the thing, placing his hands on two other grooves next to his head. They shut the thing over his head and hands, locking him in place. My mouth fell open.
They continued that way, dolling out punishments. No one had committed a crime worse than petty theft. The majority were given time in the stocks, although some were punished to several months in jail to accompany their hours of humiliation. Eventually, a Peacekeeper shoved Gale forwards to assign him his punishment. We watched on silently.
"Destruction of Capitol property. Guilty. Six months in prison. Forty-eight hours in the stocks." I gasped. Gale kept his eyes down but otherwise didn't resist. My thoughts went to his mother and siblings. Who would keep food on their table during the next six months? They were barely making ends meet as they were.
"Poor Gale," Peeta whispered at my side. I agreed.
"We should visit his mother," I suggested. "They're going to need our help."
Peeta nodded. Our gazes remained on the prisoners before us.
"Fraternization with accused criminals is strictly forbidden." Commander Thread announced once they finished. "Go about your days."
The crowd began to disperse. I kept my eyes on Gale, hoping to meet his gaze to communicate my intentions. Maybe it'd soothe him to know I would care for his family while he was away, but he didn't meet my gaze, he kept his eyes on the ground.
We returned to the bakery. Datura stood by the front door, waiting for us. She stepped aside to let us through.
"Bannock's son was born yesterday." She announced. I raised my brows in surprise. "Mrs. Lightwood is with them now. It seems stress sent Maggie into labor. Bannock will be by any minute."
Peeta nodded. Datura turned to me. "Bring the shovels."
We left our bags inside the staircase. Datura told me I'd find the shovels in the yard, next to the pig's pen. I walked off, slightly put off by her telling me what to do, but I let it slide considering the circumstances.
When I returned to the front of the shop, most of the family was already there. I spotted Delly, who was looking a little roughed up, with scrapes and scratches across her face and arms, but was mercifully alive. I dropped the shovels, surprising myself by pulling her into a tight embrace.
"Katniss," she squeezed me. "By the odds, you have no idea how happy I am to see you."
"Same here," I admitted pulling away from her. She squeezed my shoulders. "Davey?" I asked.
She sighed, eyes downcast. "He broke both his legs. Got trampled. But he's okay, he's at home."
"I'm sorry. But I'm glad he's okay." I said, Delly nodded.
"Peeta?" She asked.
"He's fine, nothing happened to him." I reassured her. "Other than, you know."
"I know, I'm so sorry." She pulled me into another hug and squeezed me again. I accepted it.
Prim walked into the room, her hair pulled back into a single braid, like a woman. She came to stand by my side. I placed an arm around her shoulder, holding her close.
"Prim," Delly reached out to squeeze my sister's hand. Prim smiled, her blue eyes shinning with unshed tears. "I'm glad to see you're okay."
Prim nodded, "I'm happy to see you too."
Edel came into the room and held the swinging doors open. We watched silently as Peeta, Rye, and Bannock carried Mr. Melark's body out on a wooden board. Peeta's grandmother covered her mouth as they walked by.
I picked up the shovels, Delly took one from me with a downturned smile.
Slowly, we followed behind the boys, forming a somber procession as we walked through town and towards the cemetery. We had a large family, so our group filled up the street. Grandmother took up Prims hand at my side, looking grim. I held Prims other hand with my free one.
Datura led the procession, walking several steps ahead of her sons. She didn't appear sad yet, if anything, she was back to anger. Mrs. Mellark senior, on the other hand, walked quietly with her hand to her mouth, relying on her daughter to help her walk.
As predicted, many people were at the cemetery burying their dead. The place was disordered, as all the cemetery men were already busy, but we were told we could dig on any open spot. We walked off to do just that.
The brothers laid Mr. Mellark down on the grass, taking the two shovels from Delly and I. Bannock went off to locate a third shovel, returning a moment later with one he took from a nearby funeral. The boys started to dig silently.
"We'll bury my son today." Mrs. Mellark senior said, gripping Hallah's good elbow with both hands. Her voice was strained but she refused to cry. "No mother wants to bury her children. Today I'll be doing it for a second time. I'm sorry to see my Bran go, but I'm glad we had him for the time that we did."
Mrs. Mellark senior stepped away from the centre of our group. Datura stepped forward.
"Bran was a good husband and father. I loved him." She nodded, her face still somewhat angry, and stepped away to stand by her brother. After a moment of hesitation, Galve wrapped an arm around her shoulders.
They went on, each taking a turn to say something about my father-in-law. Hallah looked impassive, cradling her broken arm to her chest as she mentioned never seeing eye-to-eye with her brother but loving him all the same. Juniper cried through her turn, remembering how Uncle Bran used to giver her piggie back rides. Galve shared how he'd never beat him at poker.
The air grew the most somber once the brothers finished digging, each taking a turn to speak about their late father. Bannock went first.
"Da taught me everything he knew. He made me into the man I am today." He looked down at his hands. "I… I'll miss him forever."
He stepped away, coming to stand at Delly's side. She took his hand in her own and patted it with her free one. Bannock accepted her comfort in lieu of Maggie's presence, who couldn't make it to the funeral.
Rye crossed his arms and stared at his boots the entire time he spoke. "We'll miss you, it… there wasn't enough time." He walked away entirely, leaving the circle to face the opposite direction, Elsie followed him.
It was Peeta's turn. He clasped his hands together, his eyes briefly running across our group, staying on Bannock the longest. "Da did his best. He taught us how to be good men." He smiled and Bannock smiled in return, a silent message passing between them. "I love you, Da." He walked towards us. Delly took a step to the side so he could stand between her and I. We caught each others' hands.
Galve and Hallah's husband used some rope to slowly lower Mr. Mellark into the ground. We remained silent as we watched on. I squeezed Peeta's hand.
Once the task was complete Galve and Hallah's husband picked up the abandoned shovels and waited for us to finish saying our good-byes. Datura took a handful of dirt and tossed it into the grave, holding up her three middle fingers to her lips and pointing them towards Mr. Mellark's final resting place.
Bannock, Delly, Peeta and I stepped forward together and did the same. Peeta sniffled at my side, rubbing his nose against the fabric of his shirt at the wrist, breaking my heart. It took some time, but nearly everyone took a turn. Rye was the only one who didn't, he sat on the ground a few paces away from us with his head in his hands.
Once we'd said good-bye, Galve and Hallah's husband began to use the shovels. We watched until they finished.
Afterwards, Galve brought his toolbox to the bakery. I watched him idly from where I sat on top of the wooden countertop, by the old cash register, as he removed the broken door. Bannock said Maggie's dad could sell us a door on the cheap, being the carpenter and all.
I turned to look at Prim, who sat at my side. She was fiddling with the blue ribbon at the end of her hair. I smiled at her and ran a hand down her braid.
"Did you do this by yourself?" I asked caressing her head one more time.
She shook her head. "Grandma." Her voice was small.
I nodded, smiling faintly. I really hoped the braid was a one-time thing. I wasn't ready for the implication that my little sister was all grown up.
"Mama," Peeta's voice leaked in from the other side of the door. "Just—"
"No," Datura interrupted frustratedly. "What right do you have to tell me what to do? I was fine before any of you were born, I'll be fine now."
"We can't leave you here." Their voices faded somewhat as if they were walking away from the door. "Listen."
He'd been arguing with her for some time. Under any other circumstances, I would have gone to the Hawthorne's on my own, but we were all shaken from the previous nights riot. Instead, I waited, trying to remain uninvolved as I listen to Peeta's mother rebuff him at every turn.
"I want everyone out of my house!" Datura snapped, causing even Galve to pause. "And take that girl with you."
"At least stay at Bannock's." Peeta's voice was veering into frustration. "Or Rye's, anywhere. Da wouldn't want you here alone."
The sharp sound of a slap rang out followed by silence.
I hopped to my feet and pushed past the kitchen door. Peeta and his mother were facing each other before the oven. Peeta looked mad but unharmed, his hand, which hovered midair as if he'd tried to touch her shoulder, was slightly red from where his mother slapped it. I crossed my arms.
"Peeta." I said, he looked at me before he turned back to his mother.
"It isn't my fault dad was… the way he was." He raised his hands into the air helplessly. "You have to stop blaming us."
"I. Don't." She said shortly, glaring at him. "You choose to throw your good sense away all on your own."
I clenched my teeth. I was getting pretty good at keeping my mouth shut. Peeta pushed both his hands into his hair, clearly frustrated.
"Fine. Whatever. Be that way." He turned away from her and walked towards me. "You know where we'll be."
His mother scoffed behind him but didn't say anything else. I followed him out of the room.
"Why do you keep pushing her?" I asked as I picked up his backpack from where it lay on the ground. I put it on the counter at Prims side, digging around for our money envelope. "She doesn't want your help."
"That isn't true." He mumbled, watching me count the money. I pulled some bills out and left the rest in the envelope. He took out his wallet and gave it to me so I had somewhere to store the cash. "You just… you wouldn't understand." He took the wallet back. He smiled at Prim before turning away. I squeezed her hand.
"Hurry, I don't want to walk back in the dark." I said, turning towards the front door. Peeta's uncle left us plenty of space to walk past him. We smiled tersely in return.
"Where are you guys going?" Bannock asked us. He was walking up to the shop, carrying one end of a wooden door while Rye held the other. "It's almost dinner time."
"We'll be back in a minute." Peeta patted Bannock's shoulder as he walked by. My lips spasmed into some type of smile on my way past.
"I wish you'd stop trying so hard." I mumbled.
"Yeah," he agreed disingenuously.
We walked out of town and into the Seam. Despite having moved out years ago, I still knew my way around just as well as before. I cut through someone's scraggly patch of grass and into the Hawthorne's back porch, ducking under Hazelle's laundry lines, all filled with client's clothes. We walked around the side of the house and stepped up to the front door.
"I'll talk," I said. Peeta nodded and I knocked on the door. As we waited, I could hear Posy shouting that someone was at the door.
"Katniss!" Hazelle exhaled as she opened the door. "What a surprise. Oh, and, sorry, was it Peeta? Peeta Mellark?"
Peeta nodded at my side. "Yes ma'am."
"Won't you come in?" Hazelle stepped back, welcoming us into her home. We walked past her and into the house.
"Hey Katniss" Rory called from the couch. He was hanging upside down, his head hovering just off the floor.
"Hey Rory," I smiled and shook my head.
"Rory!" Hazelle reprimanded, walking past him and towards the dining table, which stood in the middle of the room, "How can I help you two?"
"We're here for Gale." I started. "He won't be around for months, and I know you rely on his salary. He's family, so I'm here. We both know he'd do the same for me, so," I extended my hand and Peeta gave me the wallet. I would have carried it myself, but my skirt had no pockets. I pulled out the money. "Please take it."
Hazelle looked astounded. Her grey eyes turned from me to Peeta and back.
"I can't take this." She shook her head. "This is your money, you're a young family."
"We want to give it to you." I insisted. I put the money down on the table. "There. I won't take it back."
"Katniss," she whispered. "At least let me do your laundry for it."
"No." I shook my head. "I love doing my laundry. Honest. We're fine."
She brought her hand up to her face and shook her head again. "Katniss… I—thank you." She looked up at me with a sigh. "Thank you."
The morning of July 4th found me lying awake on Prim's bed after a night that felt impossible to get through. My sister had fallen into sleep unwillingly sometime in the early morning. Down the hall, Peeta spent the night on the couch.
The reaping wasn't until later that afternoon. It was supposed to be a holiday, after all. I spent most of the morning worrying about Gale. He'd been moved off the stocks yesterday and stuffed into the Peacekeepers barracks where, presumably, there was a jail. I'd never seen it and probably never would. Only family was allowed to visit, and despite how similar we looked, there ain't no hustlin' the Capitol, as Gale himself would say.
I was thinking about poor Rory the most, He'd be facing his first reaping too. Gale was going to miss it. I couldn't imagine how I'd feel if I were in his shoes.
Prim was trying to hide behind a brave face but failing spectacularly. The reaping wasn't the only thing haunting her, she had been deeply affected by the events of the last few days. Not only had she witnessed Mr. Mellark's murder, but there was also the increased Peacekeeper presence, ongoing public punishments in the town square just beyond her windows, and her sensitivity to my own fear and anxiety.
I tried to keep my adult concerns far away from her as I had done for years, but she knew me. In the past two years, Prim had already begun to develop into a deeply empathetic and insightful young woman. Increased exposure to the Capitol's brutality was bound to speed up the process. There was only so much I could hide from her, and it was clear that I couldn't protect her from something as big as this.
We didn't have much use for conversation. I concentrated my energy on warming enough water for Prim's bath. Grandmother nagged us into finishing our breakfasts. I'm sure it was delicious, she'd gone out of her way to cook up some homemade sausage, but it might as well have been tesserae grain for all I noticed.
Peeta stayed out of my hair, letting me concentrate my attention on Prim. It wasn't necessary, he could have been talking a mile a minute and I still wouldn't have noticed, but I appreciated the gesture. He disappeared somewhere downstairs, and I didn't see him again until much later.
After Prims bath I combed her long sunflower hair. We sat on the edge of her bed, her hands knotted with the material of her skirt. It had been when I was younger. I hummed softly as I split her hair in two, taking care to give her a straight and even part. I braided her hair in pigtails, securing her braids in place with her pink ribbons from before.
"You look so pretty," I complimented, placing a gentle kiss on the top of her head. I stood up and came around the bed to face her. My sister looked up at me, a lost expression on her face.
"Thank you," she whispered, looking down at her ruffled blouse. It used to be mine as well, I'd even worn it to my first reaping, merely four years ago. It fit her much better. I tugged Prim by the hand until she hopped down to her feet.
"Oh, don't forget to tuck your tail in, little duck." I chuckled as she turned away from me, kneeling to tuck in her shirt.
Prim giggled, still my sweet girl. "Quack."
"Quack yourself," I smiled with a gentle laugh. It was a laugh I reserved entirely for her. "Go on, I need to clean up too."
I watched her leave the room and took a deep breath. I closed my eyes and put my hands to my face. She would be fine. The odds were definitely in her favour. Just the one slip.
I marched myself into the bathroom. Grandmother was there, pouring a new bath of clean warm water into the tub. "Here you go. I'll get started on lunch in a minute." She said, patting my shoulder gently. "It'll all be alright dear, you'll see."
I scrubbed myself efficiently. I couldn't wait for the day to end. Above me, I could hear footsteps on the roof. Capitol camera men setting up to record the reaping, surely.
I wrapped myself up in a towel and scurried out into the hall.
"Watch out!" Peeta warned. He was holding the next batch of warm water in a big pot. "I almost burned you."
"Oh, sorry." I side stepped him, hiding from him with my damp hair. This was the most awkward part about living with another person who wasn't blood-related to you.
"That's okay." He said, already halfway through the bathroom door. "See you in a bit."
"Okay," I mumbled, happily throwing Prim's door closed behind me.
I got dressed. In District Twelve a lot of kids, once more-or-less settled into their height, like Peeta and I, just wear the same outfit every year. I buttoned up the tiny hidden buttons along the side of my blue reaping dress. A soft, lovely thing that used to belong to my mother.
I stepped into my nicer shoes and picked up Prim's comb, pulling the door open and walking off towards the kitchen. Prim enjoyed braiding my hair 'special,' and I figured doing it then might be a good distraction.
She was at the kitchen table with our grandmother, a bowl of soup already sitting in front of her. I sat down, tucking damp hair behind my ears. Grandma placed a bowl of soup before me. "Eat up girls," she said.
I picked up my spoon, reaching over to lay a comforting hand over Prims wrist. She tried to smile but it didn't quite stick.
I attempted to rip my eyes away from the clock on the wall, but it was proving nearly impossible to do. My eyes kept anxiously following the clocks arms, counting down until 1 o'clock. Absently I could feel Prim combing my hair, the brush scratching at my scalp. Tick tock, tick tock.
Peeta walked into the room, slightly pink-faced and with his hair combed back in the way he always wore it to the reaping. I hated his hair combed back; it just had a negative connotation for me. He accepted his own bowl of soup from my grandmother and watched curiously as Prim braided my hair.
"That looks complicated," he commented from across the small table. "Does it hurt your head?"
"Hair isn't very heavy," I said, eyes on the clock. "It only hurts if it pulls on the scalp."
"Doesn't she look pretty?" Prim asked as she finished putting up my hair. "I'm not as good as mom, but Katniss can pull it off."
I turned to catch my reflection against the nearby hallway mirror. "It looks just as good, Prim. Thank you."
Grandmother smiled at me with a wistful look in her eye. "If only Reuben were here."
He'd kick the lot of us out of his house, I thought but held my tongue. Grandmother still talked about my grandfather in a loving and longing way despite… everything.
"Prims right though, you look nice." Peeta smiled at me, but I knew he only said it to move the conversation away from my grandfather. He looked too preoccupied to be thinking about that type of stuff. "Very grown up."
"Thanks," I looked back at the clock. "We should probably go soon."
Whoever oversaw fixing up the square for television pulled a miracle, you had to be really paying attention to see what the riot left behind. There were enormous red Capitol flags everywhere, more than what usually was put out for the event. They were placed strategically, likely to hide most of the fire damage. I looked towards the butchers thinking that they surely wouldn't be able to hide the missing second storey, but surprisingly, they had erected one of those massive foldable screens they always put out behind the stage, blocking the building from view entirely.
I pulled Prim in front of me for the girl's check-in line-up. Peeta pulled us both into a quick group hug before he walked off towards the boy's section. I followed him with my eyes until he disappeared into the crowd.
The grimness that the reaping always brought was thick in the air. Most were silent, although I could hear the murmurs of those horrible people who gambled based on what was likely to happen during the reaping. Who would cry? Would they be from town? The Seam? What age? They were horrible people, the whole lot of them. But there was nothing anyone ever did about them, nothing anyone could do to them, the loyalist informant pigs.
"Finger," the Peacekeeper demanded of my sister. I placed my hand on her shoulder.
"Go ahead, it's just a pinch." I encouraged with a nod. Prim presented her finger obediently.
She stood off to the side as I got my finger pinched, fingertip in her mouth, with eyes as shinny as freshly polished glass. I wiped the drop of blood off on the hem of my skirt, kneeling to my sister's height.
"Okay, this is it." I cupped her cheeks in my hands. "All I need you to do is stand right here with the other twelve-year-olds, okay? You just have the one slip. Piece of cake." Prim nodded at me. "Hey, where's that smile?"
Prim's lips twitched with a weak attempt. I reached up to kiss her round pink cheek. "That's my girl. Love you. See you in a bit." I stood up and hugged her one more time before I gently guided her towards the group standing behind us.
"I'll be over there," I pointed towards the group of sixteen-year-old girls somewhat behind us. Prim nodded once more, and I painfully ripped myself away from her to stand with the other girls my age.
The place was packed, claustrophobically so. I couldn't see Prim from where I stood so I moved my eyes towards the stage. Every year they set it up the same. A removable metal structure with a black surface that functioned as the stage with one podium, three foldable metal chairs, and two glass bowls filled to the brim with paper slips. The reaping bowls.
I was grateful Gale had already aged out; he was one less person for me to worry about. By the time he did he must have had something close to thirty slips in there as he'd been taking tesserae out every year since he was twelve. I had fourteen slips in there today as I'd thankfully stopped needing to take tesserae out ever since I'd moved in with my grandmother.
Peeta stood somewhat in front and to the right of me, in the sixteen-year-old boys' section, his gelled back hair always stood out to me despite being surrounded by similar blonde heads. He only had five slips in, thankfully, having never needed to sign up for tesserae himself.
As the sign-in cue starts to shorten two of the three empty chairs fill up with the Mayor, Mr. Undersee, and Effie Trinkett, the ridiculous Capitol woman they shipped in from our country's 'gem' to pick out and read the names of the damned. She's sporting a strange, curling pink wig that stands several inches tall on her white-white face. Not even Peeta, the palest person I know, is that pale. Must be makeup. She crossed her legs, which ended in strange pink heels, and pulled on the skirt of her spring green suit. Both Mayor Undersee and her eyed the empty chair worriedly.
When the town clock stroke two Mayor Undersee stepped up to the podium and began to read. Always the exact same speech, every year. The history of Panem, the ungratefulness of the Districts, the war, blah, blah, blah. And finally, The Hunger Games, to remind us of the horrors of war, to remind us of how the Capitol protects us despite our ungratefulness. Yes, yes, thank you, benevolent leader.
"It is both a time for repentance and a time for thanks," Mayor Undersee intoned.
Then came the list of former victors. In seventy-four years, there's been quite a few.
"District Twelve," Mayor Undersee paused. "Lucy Grey Baird, for the tenth annual Hunger Games. And Haymitch Abernathy, for the fiftieth annual Hunger Games."
That's right, what an absolute embarrassment. District Twelve, the only place that in seventy-four years has only managed to produce two Victors. One that no one can remember and the other a paunchy useless drunk.
Just then the man of the hour decided to make his presence known, pushing through a wall of Peacekeepers with enough drunken force that one of their helmets is knocked off. Haymitch drunkenly climbed up to the stage, muttering who knows what, despite the mayors ongoing speech. With the grace of a hibernating bear, he dropped into the empty seat. As always, the crowd gave the required applause, confusing the man into standing and trying to hug Effie Trinkett, much to her visible disgust.
Mayor Undersee appeared distressed and glanced quickly at a nearby camera. The event was being broadcasted live across the country and in that moment District Twelve was the butt of the joke. Quickly, he announced the beginning of the reaping, introducing us all to Effie Trinkett once more.
Bight and bubbly as ever, Effie Trinkett trotted to the podium, her unnaturally white smile in place. "Happy Hunger Games," she announced in that strange breathy accent everyone from the Capitol was so uppity about. "And may the odds be ever in your favour!"
'Yes, yes, Catnip milady.' I could hear Gale laughing in my memory. I bit my lip as I remembered him standing on a rock, posed ridiculously in imitation of the Capitol woman before me. 'May the odds be ever in your favour and may rainbows and butterflies fly out of my ass!'
My attention returned to Effie Trinkett as her wig tilted slightly off-centre, loosened, most likely, by Haymitch's assault earlier. She eagerly praised her city and insisted upon the great honor that the Hunger Games brought to the families of all who participated. Automatically, I tuned her out.
Finally, she stopped talking. With a dramatic pause she leaned into the microphone. "As always, ladies first!" She turned towards the reaping bowls, smiling brightly as she walked towards it, angling herself in she believed was an attractive manner towards the nearby camera that tracked her every move. Once there, she dug her hand deep into the bowl, playing with the slips for a moment before she pulled out one.
Effie Trinket crossed back to the podium, smoothed the slip of paper, and read out the name in a clear, bright voice.
"Primrose Everdeen."
Oh.
The world collapsed. Stood still and crumbled apart. My vision failed me, the world going black as I struggled to breathe, gasping for air as if I were drowning. My chest felt constricted, crushed.
It couldn't be. It couldn't.
I startled as a boy from the Seam dug his broken nails into my skin. He was gripping my arm, trying to hold me up. I must have nearly fainted.
I heard murmuring across the crowd, unhappy whispers that always propagated when a twelve-year old was called. I still couldn't believe it myself. Hadn't I just told her it was impossible? Wasn't she merely one slip among thousands? Thousands.
The cameras had found her in the crowd, projecting her face back at me on the massive screen. The blood had drained from her face, hands clenched in fists at her sides as she walked with stiff small steps, up and towards the stage. The back of her blouse lay untucked over her skirt. My little duck.
"Prim," My strangled cry ripped itself from throat, shattering the eerie silence across the square. "Prim!" There wasn't any need to shove my way past the crowd, they parted as if I were diseased or on fire, watching as my tragedy played out in front of them. I reached her just as she was about to climb the steps, sweeping her behind me.
"I volunteer!" I gasped, looking at the Peacekeepers around me like a cornered animal. "I volunteer as tribute."
"Katniss," Prim croaked behind me, her eyes filled with tears. I ignored her. Instead, I opted to stare down the Peacekeepers around us who stood looking on in confusion.
"No!" Someone else shouted from within the crowd, jolting everyone and pulling attention away from my sister and I. "Katniss! Katniss!" My eyes landed on Peeta as he threw himself towards us, knocking people out of his way as he went, moving too quickly for people to get out of the way. Two Peacekeepers reached him before he did any serious damage, holding him back by the elbows and dragging him backwards, kicking and screaming. "Katniss!"
"Prim, go." I whispered, pushing her back towards the square. "Take care of Peeta for me, go."
The tears slipped out of her eyes, but she nodded, stepping backwards into the crowd. I turned towards the steps. There was some confusion on stage, as no one had volunteered in District Twelve as far back as anyone could remember.
"Lovely!" Effie trinket called out into the microphone, a poor attempt to cover up Peeta's screaming. "But I believe there's a small matter of introducing the reaping winner and then asking for volunteers, and if one does not come forth then we, um…" she trailed off, unsure herself.
"What does it matter?" asked Mayor Undersee. He met my gaze with a pained expression on his face. I doubted he remembered me. I traded strawberries with his daughter, Madge, on occasion. Years ago, after the mine explosion, he presented me with a medal of valour, for my father. Vaporized in the mines. Did he remember that? "What does it matter?" he repeated. "Let her come forward."
I walked up the steps, "Katniss." I could hear Prim whimper somewhere behind me. I looked ahead. "Katniss!" I looked behind me once, just as grandmother scooped her up and turned away. She buried her face against our grandmother's shoulder to cry. I crossed the stage.
"Well, bravo!" Effie Trinket gushed as I came to stand beside her. I turned to face the square, momentarily blinding myself with the bright lights that faced the stage, then disorienting myself with the slowly moving cameras. As my vision cleared, I could see Peeta straining against the Peacekeepers that still held him back, only now he was clearly crying. I looked away.
"That's the spirit of the Games! What's your name?" Effie Trinket asked me with a smile stretching her unnaturally pale face.
I swallowed hard. "Katniss Mellark," I said my voice ringing loudly out of the speakers.
"Oh! I bet you're excited to taste the glory of the Games! Come on, everybody! Let's give a big round of applause to our newest tribute!" Effie trilled, clapping her gloved hands.
To the everlasting credit of the people of District 12, no one clapped. Not even those holding betting slips, the ones beyond caring. It surprised me, as I didn't think of District Twelve as a place that cared about me, or anyone, really. Possibly is was because they knew me, from the Hob or from town, or my father who was wonderful, or Prim, who no one can help but love. I stood unmoving, as, instead of clapping, they engaged in the boldest form of dissent they could in front of the Capitols watchful live feed. First, only a few people did it, but then it spread. Soon the entire crowd touched the three middle fingers of their left hands to their lips, lifting them up high above their heads, holding them out to me. For me.
Good-bye, as we did at funerals. Good-bye to a loved one. Good-bye to someone you admire. Love, admiration, respect. Good-bye.
I struggled to hold back the water in my eyes, surprised by their kindness. I swallowed again, my throat suddenly tight and small.
Thankfully, Haymitch decided this was the perfect moment to congratulate me. "Look at her. Look at this one!" he hollered, throwing an arm around my shoulders. His hold was surprisingly strong for such a lush, "I like her!" His breath reeked of liquor, his body odor clear evidence of how long it'd been since he'd last bathed. "Lots of…" he struggled to come up with the word he wanted. "Spunk!" he said triumphantly. "More than you!" he released me and walked towards the front of the stage, "More than you!" he repeated, pointing towards the camera.
I stared at him, wondering who the hell he was talking to, as he opened his mouth to continue, cutting himself off when he plummeted off the stage, succeeding in knocking himself unconscious.
Disgusting. But at the very least the wave of emotion that hit me subsided, somewhat. Every camera turned towards him, giving me enough time to release the chocked sound that was clawing its way out of my throat.
We remained silent as Haymitch was whisked away on a stretcher, cameras following him a certain distance. Effie Trinket pulled on the hem of her complicated suit jacket (at least I thought it was a jacket?), trying to get the ball rolling again. "What an exciting day!" she warbled, attempting to right her tilted wig, which had listed severely to the right. "But more excitement to come! It's time to choose our boy tribute!" To control her tenuous hair situation, she planted a hand on her head as she crossed the stage to the ball containing the boy's slips. She grabbed and lifted the first one she encountered.
As she walked herself back to the podium with a smile, wig moving a touch too much, Peeta managed to slam his elbow into one of the Peacekeepers faces, knocking him unconscious. In the surprise that ensued, he freed himself, running towards the stage.
No, I thought, shaking my head. Don't you dare.
"Pee—" Effie began to read just as Peeta interrupted her.
"I volunteer!" He shouted, stopping at the front of the stage. "I volunteer."
I glared at him, my eyes tracking him as he walked on stage. Effie Trinket clapped her gloved hands once more, bouncing slightly on her toes in excitement. She was going to be the most popular escort in Hunger Games history. Two volunteers out of the most forgettable District? Marvellous.
"Magnificent!" Effie Trinket trilled, smiling at Peeta. "And your name?"
Peeta glanced at me before his eyes turned towards the crowd. "Peeta Mellark."
"Oh, what a delightful coincidence." Effie looked down at the slip in her hand before she remembered something. Her head snapped up and her eyes landed on me. "Say, is this your… stepsister?"
I couldn't blame her for the confusion. We were too young for marriage and didn't look anything alike. I shook my head.
"We're married." Peeta replied dryly, almost as if he were bored. Effie Trinket gasped.
"How exciting." She clapped her hands once more before stepping aside for Mayor Undersee. I looked off into the crowd as he began the long and boring task of reading the Treaty of Treason.
I'd never wished Peeta ill in my life, not once. Not even when he made me legitimately angry. But now? Now, as he made me stand there on that stage, in front of everyone we'd ever know, throwing his life away completely as if it were worth nothing? I could strangle him.
Mayor Undersee finished reading and turned towards us, motioning with his hand for us to step forward and shake hands. I turned to face my idiot husband and looked him straight in the eye. He stared back at me. His large warm hand enveloped my own, shaking it with the solid surety he approached everything with. He squeezed my hand in what was surely meant to be a reassuring manner. In return, I dug my nails into his skin.
We were escorted into the Justice Building after the customary playing of Gem of Panem. Peacekeepers walked us in ahead of Effie Trinket and the Mayor. I waited for the doors to close behind us. I didn't want Prim to see. Once the doors were closed, I whirled around on the balls of my feet, rage flashing in my eyes as I glared at Peeta.
"Katniss—" he tried to say, but I reared my hand back and slapped him with all my might, splitting his bottom lip with the force of my touch. Behind us, Effie Trinket gasped, jumping slightly.
"How dare you, Peeta Mellark." I accused. Peeta held a hand up to his face but otherwise took my abuse. "How could you do this to me?"
"Katniss—" he tried again but I shook my head, silencing him.
"You were supposed to take care of Prim," I said. Peeta flinched, guilt clear in his eyes. "You betrayed me."
His eyes widened and I knew I hit my mark. I turned away from him, arms crossed, conversation over. He didn't try to speak again.
After our little confrontation Peacekeepers guided us into separate rooms and left us alone. It was the richest place I'd ever been in, with thick, deep carpets and a velvet couch and chairs. I'd never bought velvet myself, despite having more money than I was previously accustomed to, but my mother had handed down a dress to me with a velvet collar. I stroked my palm down the surface of the couch after I sat on it, the fabric darkened, like wet soil. I breathed deeply, trying to remain calm. I only had one hour for visitors, and I needed to make sure I said everything I needed to before I… left.
My sister and grandmother come in first. I reached for Prim, and she climbed up onto my lap, arms around my neck, head on my shoulder, just as she did when she was a toddler. Grandmother sat beside me and wrapped her arms around us. We didn't speak for a while.
"Feed the Hawthorne's," I insisted, remembering that Gale was in prison. "Take care of each other. Keep an eye out for Delly and Rye, they won't take it well when we…" Grandmother nodded scrubbing a wrinkled hand against her eyes.
I hugged Prim closer, closing my eyes as I inhaled the scent of her hair. "Take care of grandma. You'll be a great healer, Prim, I just know it. Don't forget about the Seam when you're older. They need your help too."
"I won't forget." Prim said, clasping my face between her hands. "I'll be alright, Katniss. But you need to take care too. You're so fast and brave, maybe you could win."
I was already shaking my head before she finished her sentence. "I can't do it, I can't kill him, Prim." She had to know that. I couldn't win, I couldn't return to the family like that.
Prim's face crumbled, pained. She hid against my neck, warm tears sliding against my skin.
"I…" I looked at grandmother helplessly. She wrapped her arms around me again. "If things… happen and there's a possibility... without that. Maybe. I… I'll try then, I promise." It wasn't in my nature to go down without a fight anyways. "Then we'll be rich, like Haymitch."
"I don't care if we're rich. I just want you home." Prim mumbled against my skin. "Both of you."
I closed my eyes. I would not cry. "I know, Prim."
There was a knock on the door. I looked up at the Peacekeeper there. He pointed at his wrist. Times up. We hugged each other tight one more time. "I love you. I love you both, so much." I said. They were still saying it back when the Peacekeeper ordered them out of the room, closing the door behind them a moment later.
I buried my head in a velvet throw pillow, wishing I could wake up in my bed, in my house to Peeta's snores.
Someone else entered the room. I looked up. Datura stood there, arms crossed, with an uncomfortable look on her face. I frowned at her, what now? I thought I was the trashy Everdeen girl, now she wanted to say goodbye?
"I'll keep an eye out for Mrs. Lightwood and Primrose." She said, I nodded.
"Thank you," my voice came out in a warbled whisper.
"I know you'll take care of my son, until you can't. Thank you." She looked at something beyond my head. I nodded again, of course I would.
She was silent for a moment. "I think you can win."
I frowned, taken aback. "What?"
"You've got what it takes," Datura conceded, her gaze falling on my face. "You should do it. Bring back the victory, for our family."
"Glory and riches. That's all you've ever wanted." I said bitterly. "What about Peeta?"
She shrugged. "You know he won't make it. Especially not without you."
"How can you say that?" I demanded. "He's your son."
"It's the truth." She said. "Peeta's my most obedient son. He's good and I'll miss him. But he wasn't made for this sort of thing."
"And I was?" I shook my head and chuckled darkly. "God, just say you hate me already."
"I don't hate you." Datura denied. "I'm practical. I might not like you, but." She shrugged.
"Why give me your son?" I asked, growing quiet with anger.
"Bran knew Peeta wanted you, even if he never said it out loud." Datura admitted. "He didn't want him to end up like us, me, really. He liked to spoil him, so here you are."
"But Mr. Mellark wasn't in charge of your household," I accused accurately. "What did you want with me?"
Datura seemed to think about her response, sighing as she reached some unsaid conclusion. "You were the security I wanted for him. Third born sons don't inherit anything and they're hard to marry off, especially hard to marry off well. Plus, we all knew Peeta had a habit of making things complicated." She shook her head, eyes far away with some memory she didn't share. "He was always so sensitive. Cared too much."
"So, you did it for the apothecary?" I clarified. She nodded.
"Yes, it didn't matter who your parents were. You're a first-born daughter. With you, all three of my sons were safe. Married into secure families with the strongest businesses in town." She ran her hands down the front of the apron she wore. There was a knock on the door behind her. "Apothecary, carpentry, and butcher. The staples."
I nodded. The Peacekeeper opened the door, Datura took a step back, turning as she went.
"Think about it. You're skilled." Were her parting words as she turned around and walked away.
I wasn't alone long enough to process her visit. The door opened again for Maggie and Bannock. Maggie smiled at me, a small bundle in her arms.
"Who's this?" I gasped, standing up and walking across the room. "Is this little Bran?"
Bannock nodded with a proud smile. "We wanted him to meet his aunt."
"Oh," I whispered softly, running a gentle hand across the baby's perfect cheek. "He's gorgeous, Maggie." I complimented.
Maggie grinned but there were tears running down her face. "We all love you," she hiccupped. "I'm so sorry."
Bannock took the baby from her so she could cover her face. Maggie sobbed intensely. He held the newborn close to his chest with one arm and reached for me with the other, hugging me close.
"It's been nice, having you for a sister." He whispered. I really had to bite hard on my cheek to stop myself from crying. I was glad they weren't forcing winning on me like everyone else. No use pretending.
"Thank you," I whispered, hugging him close. "Thank you."
They left quickly after that. Maggie walked out of the room with her hands over her face. My heart twisted hard as I watched them leave.
Next it was Delly, Rye and Elsie's turn. Delly swept past the others, pulling me into a warm hug which I accepted greedily. Rye hugged me next, taking the time to tug on my braid one more time. Elsie, dry eyed after the week we'd had, hugged me last.
"Take care of each other," Delly said in parting once their time was up.
My final guest was unexpected. Madge Undersee walked straight towards me. She wasn't weepy or evasive. In fact, she spoke in an urgent tone that surprised me. "They let you wear one thing from your District in the arena. One thing to remind you of home, will you wear this?" she removed a circular gold pin from her dress. I hadn't paid any attention to it before, too distracted by the disaster of my reaping to see what Madge had been wearing in the crowd. When she pushed it in my hands, I noticed it was a small bird in flight.
"Your pin?" I asked. "Oh, I couldn't." I tried to give it back.
"Here, I'll put it on your dress." She replied avoiding my denial. She fastened it over my left breast. "Promise you'll wear it in the arena, Katniss?" she asked. "Promise?"
I nodded, surprised by her insistence. A real gold pin, two brothers and four sisters. When did I get so wealthy? Madge added one more thing to my wealth before she left, a kiss on my cheek. Maybe I had a friend in her all along. Siblings, gold, and a friend.
I took a seat on the couch again. I was glad for the visitors I'd had, even Datura, for answering some old questions before my upcoming death. Yet, I couldn't shake the sadness in my belly when I realized that there was no way Gale would be able to visit me. I'd never say good-bye to the boy who'd once been my only friend in the entire world.
I released a shaky breath, blinking back tears that came dangerously close to spilling over my lashes. Gale knew I cared about him like family, hopefully he knew that. If not, Prim would remind him for me. I nodded, that's right. Prim would share my good-byes with Gale. It's alright.
The door opened and I looked up into the face of another Peacekeeper. "Times up kid, time to go."
I took a deep breath. I could do this. I could walk out of this room. "Okay."
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