I spit the berries out, wiping my tongue with my sleeve to make sure no juice remains. Sawyer pulls me to the lake where we both flush our mouths and collapse into each other's arms.
"You didn't swallow any?" I ask him.
"He shakes his head. "You?"
I shake my head, barely able to hear him over the roar of the Capitol crowd they're playing live. The hovercraft that seems to have materialized out of nowhere stops above us, dropping down two ladders, but there's no way I'm letting go of Sawyer. I keep my arm around him and I help him up. We each place a foot on the bottom rung and a magnetic force keeps us in place, pulling us up towards the vehicle. While our muscles remain immobile, nothing is stopping the blood from leaving Sawyer's leg and as soon as we are inside, he collapses to the ground unconscious.
My fingers are still gripping the back of his jacket so tightly that when they take him away, it tears, leaving me a fistful of black fabric.
"No!" I feel a wave of panic take over, watching them carry away his limp body. Someone grabs me from behind and I struggle against them, desperate to get to him. They carry him into the room next to us, the glass doors closing to keep people out. I'm able to wrench myself out of the grip of whoever has me and I bang against the door but nothing budges. Doctors on the other side are already prepared to operate on him, and he lies on the silver table, looking so pale, I would think he was dead. I don't trust them. I still feel like we're in the games and I scream at them to let me in, hysterical, but nobody pays me any attention except for the Capitol attendant who offers me a beverage which I fling into the glass.
I slump down on the ground, pressing my face against the door, watching them work reverently on Sawyer, their brows creased in concentration. I see the flow of liquids pumping into him and I'm not sure, but I think his heart stops twice.
It's like being home, watching Nana and Aunt Prim work on someone who's been hurt in a mining accident, their mangled body on the table. Usually at home, there isn't much they can do except try to make their passing as painless as possible. This is when I would run to my woods, to get away from it all. But I can't leave him. I won't, not after everything. He wouldn't leave me if I was the one on the table. I now understand how the loved ones back home stay and watch even if the scene is so grotesque. Because they have no other choice.
I startle when I catch someone staring at me from only a few inches away when I realize it's me. Wild eyes, hollow cheeks, and my hair in a tangled mat. Rabid. Feral. Mad. No wonder everyone has been keeping their distance from me.
Next thing I know, we've arrived back at the Training Center and they're taking Sawyer but leaving me behind the door. I start hurling myself against the glass, shrieking, and I think I catch a glimpse of pink hair. Maybe Effie? But I don't get a chance to find out before somebody jabs me from behind with a needle.
When I wake, I'm afraid to move at first. I'm in a dimly lit room with no floors or windows, tubes coming out of my arm into the walls. I'm naked but the bedclothes are soft against my skin. I tentatively list my left wrist to find that not only have my nails been scrubbed clean, but they've been filed to perfect ovals and the burns and scars are virtually nonexistent. I'm running my hand through my washed hair when the rustling sound stops me. No, it's not an illusion. I can hear again.
I try to sit up but some sort of wide restraint keeps me in place, not allowing me to move more than a few inches. The physical confinement makes me panic and I'm trying to wiggle through the band when the doors open and an Avox girl comes in. She sets a tray across my thighs and pushes a button that moves me into sitting position. While she adjusts my pillow, I risk one question. I say it out loud, since I know I'm being monitored and I don't want to seem secretive. "Is Sawyer alive?" She nods, slipping a spoon into my hand and leaving the room.
Once she's gone, I turn hungrily to the meal, which is only some clear broth, some applesauce and a glass of water. This is it? My mind wants something more extravagant, but I quickly find that it's a struggle to even finish the meal. My stomach seems to have shrunk to the size of a chestnut and I have to wonder how long I had been out because I had no trouble eating a sizable breakfast in the arena.
There's usually a few days in between the end of the games and when they present the victors so they can fix them up after the horrors of the arena. Somewhere, Cinna and Portia will be putting together a wardrobe for our public appearances. Haymitch and Effie will be reviewing the banquet for our sponsors and reviewing our interview questions. District Twelve must be in chaos, preparing for the homecoming of their victors, given the last one was fifty years ago.
Home! Dani and my parents! I'll get to go home!
I want to see Sawyer and Cinna but when I try to wiggle out of my belt again, I feel a cold liquid seeping into my veins, pulling me into unconscious.
This happens intermittently over the course of who knows how many days, until eventually I wake up without the restraints or wires on my arm. I'm a little taken aback by the sight of my hands. My skin is perfection, any trace of burns and scars gone. And not just the ones from the arena, but the ones accumulated over years of hunting in the woods are gone too.
I slip my legs out of the bed, nervous about how they will bear my weight, and find them strong and steady. Lying at the foot of the bed is an outfit that makes me flinch. It's what all of us tributes wore to the arena. I stare at it as if it has teeth until I remember that this is what I will wear to greet my team. This knowledge makes me dress faster, and I'm scrambling to get out of the room and find Sawyer. When I get out into the hallway, I know one of these doors must be his.
"Sawyer!" I call out, since there's no one to ask. I hear my name in response but it's not his voice. It is familiar though. Effie.
I turn and see them all waiting at the end of the hall - Effie, Haymitch and Cinna. My feet take off without hesitation. I run for them and surprise even myself when I launch into Haymitch's arms first, sobbing because it has finally hit me that I'm out of that arena.
"I know, sweetheart. I know," Haymitch rubs my back. Because he might be the only person here who truly does know what I'm going through right now.
"I took your advice," I tell him, a measly attempt at a joke. "I stayed alive."
"You sure did," Haymitch chuckles, more life in his eyes than I have ever seen from him. "And you even managed to save the boy. Nice job."
Effie is teary eyes, patting my hair and talking about how she told everyone we were pearls. Cinna just hugs me tight and doesn't say anything. I notice Portia is missing and can't help the bad feeling in my stomach.
"Is Portia with Sawyer? Where is he? Is he here?"
"He's fine," Haymitch assures me. "Only, they want to do your reunion live on air."
"Oh." I'm relieved for the assurance that he's alive but disappointed I won't get to see him right away.
"Go on with Cinna. He has to get you ready," says Haymitch.
I am relieved that I'm not being isolated again, and Cinna is one of the people I would actually feel comfortable with. He guides me down the elevator, past the training center where we practiced and learned our skills before the games, and down the hallway to the other elevator going up to the twelfth floor. As we pass all the other floors, I can't help think about the other tributes. The other kids who are dead now and will never get to go home.
When the elevator doors open, I'm greeted by my prep team. Augusina, Tasten, and Nepla all gather around me, ecstatic to see me. They sweep me into the dining room and I get a real meal of roast beef and peas and soft rolls, although my portions are heavily restricted. I want to gorge myself but I know they're doing this for my benefit. Besides, I'll have plenty of time to do that now.
They get right to work prepping me, which means removing most of my hair like they had before I had gone into the arena. A lot of it hadn't grown back though, which I was surprised to hear was because of something they injected prior to the games, but there were still a few spots to be waxed. They let my hair down into soft curls, leaving my makeup light, much different from how they had done it from previous interviews.
When Cinna returns with my outfit, that's when I know that something is up. It's a yellow dress, with a sweetheart neckline that flows outwards at the waster, stopping right around my knee. To be honest, it looks like something even Dani might wear. I look young, younger than they would like here. Innocent, not like a girl who has just killed to survive the Hunger Games.
"No longer the girl on fire?" I ask Cinna who had been careful with the theming up until now.
"Not today," Cinna says, fixing the bow on my waist. "Today, you are a young girl hopelessly in love."
"Are those Haymitch's words?" I ask. It sounds like something he would suggest.
"He does know what he's doing. He got you out, didn't he?" Cinna reminds me. He's right. Despite everything, Haymitch played the game well enough to take care of us in the arena. I have to assume he's doing the same thing now.
When I slip on the dress, I immediately notice the padding around my breasts. I frown, glancing at Cinna.
"I know," he says. "But the Gamemakers wanted to alter you surgically. Haymitch has a huge fight with them over it. This was the compromise."
Haymitch is waiting for me by the elevators when Cinna finally deems me ready. He nods to my stylist, guiding me into the elevators. He's silent but I can tell something's on his mind as we talk to the stadium where our interviews are being held. I know something is definitely up when he insists on giving me a hug before I go on.
"I'm so proud of you, sweetheart," he says, taking a little around. Then he pulls me in for a hug and his hissing in my ear. "They're not happy with that stunt you pulled in the arena. They're furious actually. So your only defense is that you were so in love you couldn't imagine life without him. And you need to pull it off." His words have a tone of finality, and I know there will be trouble if I don't comply.
"Did you tell Sawyer the same thing?" I ask when I pull back, feeling like my wording is vague enough.
"I don't have to," Haymitch says. "He's already there."
"But you think I'm not?" I ask, taking the opportunity to straighten the red bow tie Cinna must have somehow wrestled on him. I know I wasn't the best actor, but I thought I had been somewhat convincing.
"Since when does it matter what I think," says Haymitch. "Better take your place," he leads me to the metal circle. "This is your night, sweetheart. Enjoy it." He kisses me on the forehead and disappears behind the curtains.
Now that I'm alone, it feels like the room is closing in on me. When I left the arena, I was supposed to be safe. But if what Haymitch said is true, then I've never been in such a dangerous place in my life.
It's so much worse than the arena. There, I could die and that's the end of that. Here, Dani, my parents, Sawyer, and everyone back in District Twelve could be punished if I can't pull this off. But at least I still have a chance though. Funny, when I pulled out those berries, I thought I had outsmarted the games. But the Hunger Games are their weapons and you're not supposed to be able to defeat it. So now, the Capitol will act as if they have been in control this whole time, as if they orchestrated the whole thing, right down to the double suicide. But it will only work if I play along.
And Sawyer…Sawyer will suffer too, if this goes wrong. But what was it Haymitch said when I asked if he had told Sawyer the situation?
"Don't have to. He's already there."
Already thinking about the danger we're in? Or…already desperately in love? I don't know. I haven't even begun to separate my feelings on Sawyer. It's too complicated. What I did as part of the games. As opposed to what I did out of anger to the Capitol. Or because of how it would be viewed by the audience. Or what I did because I cared about him.
These are questions to be unraveled at home, in the peace of my own woods, when no one is watching. Not here with every eye upon me. But I won't have that luxury for who knows how long. And right now, the most dangerous part of the games is about to begin.
I don't have time to dwell on this any longer because the anthem booms and Remus Flickerman's voice is greeting the audience. I try to tamper down my nerves as he introduces various people, first my prep team who I'm sure is taking their time with their bows, and then Effie, who, despite her over the top nature, must sense some kind of danger, if not from just the knowledge of what we've done then Haymitch. Then it's Cinna and Portia who are praised with a standing ovation for their outfits. I now know why Cinna chose the outfit that he did. I need to appear harmless to the Capitol and in this dress, he's done just that. And then Haymitch who brings on another round of applause that must last at least five minutes. Because he's done a first. He's brought back not just one, but two tributes. And in that moment, I'm grateful for his warning because now I know I can't be anything less than convincing, and at least putting on this act is helping to distract me from some of the nerves as my platform begins to rise.
I'm blinded by the lights and a little disoriented from the deafening roar, making the platform shake beneath my feet. And then there's Sawyer, standing just a few feet away looking so clean and healthy and beautiful. I can't explain the feeling that bursts in my chest. Is it relief? Or something else entirely? I can hardly recognize him, but his smile is the same, whether in mud or in the Capitol and when I see it, it's like a trigger and I run a few steps towards him and launch myself into his arms. He staggers back a few steps and I think we might fall but he just tightens his hold on me and steadies us. That's when I notice that he has a metal cane in one hand. Has his leg not fully healed yet? Then I'm kissing him, or he's kissing me, I'm not sure, as the audience goes insane around us. I can't help thinking if he knows the kind of danger we're in. After about ten minutes of this, Remus Flickerman taps on his shoulder to continue to show but Sawyer just pushes him off and lifts me up off my feet, pushing me closer to him. It catches me off guard and I laugh, because I know the games haven't completely changed him and that knowledge alone is everything. This makes the audience go berserk though, and whether he knows it or not, Sawyer is playing the crowd exactly right.
Finally, Haymitch interrupts us and gives us a good natured shove towards the victor's chair. Usually it's a single ornate chair, but because there's two of us, the Gamemakers have provided a small plush velvet couch. I don't even care that Effie will probably yell at me later. I kick off my uncomfortable shoes and curl up against Sawyer, resting my head against his shoulder. His arm automatically wraps around my waist, and it suddenly feels like we're back in that cave, huddling together to stay warm.
"Are you okay?" Sawyer whispers in my ear. I nod, mentally preparing myself for what's to come. Every year, after the victor is introduced, they show a three hour recap of the games, another mandatory viewing for all of Panem. Of course, we lived through it all, but it must be different watching it from the outside on a screen. Condensing that much footage into such a short amount of time is difficult, and whoever chooses the footage has to decide what kind of story to tell. This year, for the first time, is a love story, spending much more time on Sawyer and I than the other tributes from the very beginning, which I suppose works in our favor. The first half hour focuses on pre-arena events, and we get to see all forty-eight reaped children for the first time again. So much has happened since that I almost forgot about Hops and Etheria.
Once we're in the arena, however, I get to witness things that the audience has already seen but I had never been privy to. Sawyer misled the Careers about me, stayed awake the entire night under the tracker jacker tree to make sure I was safe, and fought off Herc to make sure he didn't come after me, allowing me to escape. Even in the mud, he whispered my name in his sleep. I seem heartless in comparison until I team up with El and Hudson. They play both of their deaths in full. El with the spearing, my failed rescue attempt, my arrow through the boy's throat, and the song. They do, however, omit the part with the flowers. Then Hudson, with the realization that mutts are chasing us, trying to fight them off, and finally Hudson holding them back to give me a chance to get up the tree. I squeeze Sawyer's hand harder and I can see the horror in his eyes, because this must all be new to him.
Things pick up after they announce the rule change and I shout out his name before clamping my hand over my mouth. If I seemed indifferent before, I was definitely making up for it now, finding him, nursing him back to health, and risking my own life to get the medicine for him. And being very free with my kisses.
Watching Herc's gruesome death doesn't seem nearly as agonizing as it felt in the moment, as if all the feeling has been drained and it's simply images on a screen. And then comes the moment with the berries. I can hear the audience shushing one another, not wanting to miss anything. Sawyer, rambling on about how he loves me, me proposing the berries, our kiss good-bye, and then announcing us as the victors. I expect it to end there, but they show one last clip of me banging on that glass door inside of the hovercraft desperate to get to him.
In terms of survival, it's my best moment all night.
The anthem's playing yet again and President Snow comes out to crown us. We both stand and he approaches, a little girl behind him holding only one crown. There's a murmur of confusion before he twists the crown in half, splitting it into two pieces, placing one on Sawyer's head and then turning to me to place the other half on mine. Although he is smiling, his eyes, which move from the crown to my own, are as unforgiving as a snake.
And that's when I know that even though both of us would have eaten the berries, I am to blame for having the idea. I am the instigator. I'm the one to be punished.