Chapter Thirteen
I lay curled into Wesley's chest, the quiet of the night eerie. The only sound I can hear is his rhythmic, soft breathing. In a few hours, everything will change. I think about Clymene, and how I will never see her again. Tears prick behind my eyes as I picture the sweet old woman with twinkling blue eyes. Her smile so warm, it touches your soul when you see it. With tears streaming down my face, I remember the last time I stayed at her house.
"Honey, what would you like for dinner?" Clymene asked, popping her head into my room. Since I grew up here, with my mother being too busy with work to watch me, we decided I needed a proper place to stay. It wasn't an elaborate space, just a bed, a desk, and my bookcase. On the wall above my bed were pictures of my mother and me, pictures from when I was a baby, and some snapshots of Clymene and me on the beach. I crossed my legs on the gray floral comforter, and smiled at her.
"It's going to storm tonight, so soup it is?" she chuckled, her blue eyes crinkling.
"Yes, please," I said sheepishly. Climbing down from the bed, I joined her in the kitchen, a small space with light wooden counters, the walls painted a deep sage green. On the windowsill above the sink sat her mini herb garden. Parsley, mint, basil, and rosemary thrived in small terracotta pots, filling the air with their fragrant aroma. Pulling out chicken, onion, celery, and carrots from the fridge, we began work, chopping the vegetables.
"How was school this week?" Clymene inquired, butchering the whole chicken on her chopping block.
"It was fine. The girls weren't too mean this week, probably because the Reaping is coming up," I said nonchalantly. The girls in my grade could be vicious sometimes, planting things in my locker, leaving 'anonymous' rude notes on my desk. I ignored it for the most part, their existence irrelevant in my mind.
"To hell with them, if they can't see what a fine young lady you are, they don't deserve to know you anyway," Clymene said firmly, her stern gaze flickering up to mine. "How is that boy of yours?" she asked, forcefully slamming the knife down the center of the chicken with brute force. The chicken split in two, causing me to jump with the loud noise.
"Kai is…good," I said unconvincingly. I continued chopping the carrots, not meeting her gaze. I already knew she didn't believe me and was giving me her 'cut the crap' look. She didn't like Kai the moment she met him. She said he wasn't the man for me. She didn't like how he would speak to me, which was bold of him for even daring to speak to me in any manner in front of Clymene. I didn't think he realized that Clymene would actually do some damage to him.
"You know where I stand on that matter, however, I know that it's young love, and some things you just have to learn for yourself," she said, dropping the cut chicken into a pot of boiling water, sprinkling salt over it. "Things may change in a year or two when you discover who you are," she smiled, wiping the counter down.
Suddenly, lightning cracked across the sky, and seconds later, thunder rumbled in the distance. I closed my eyes briefly, taking a deep breath. I wasn't afraid like I used to be, but I still didn't like storms.
"And then some things may never change…" Clymene laughed and went to put the kettle on for tea, knowing lavender tea always calmed me down.
The memory fades, and I find myself back in the present, tears soaking Wesley's shirt. His arm tightens around me, his head snuggling deeper into the pillow. I can almost hear Clymene's comforting voice, telling me that everything will be alright. I cling to that thought, letting it give me a small measure of peace. She gave so much of herself for me, choosing to be selfless and raise me. I think she needed me just as much as I needed her. I bring her ring up to my lips, and hold onto this last piece of her. Soon, I drift off to sleep, listening to Wesley's breathing as a lullaby.
Before dawn breaks, a knock on the door jolts us awake. My eyes open painfully, the tears from last night having glued them shut. Wesley sits up, stretching and yawning, then looks down at me with a half-smile.
"What are you lookin' at?" I joke, smiling softly. He bends down, and places his warm lips against mine.
"The most beautiful woman I've ever seen," he replies, his lips brushing across my neck and down to the rise of my chest. I wind my fingers in his hair as his mouth dances across my breasts. He tugs my underwear down with desperate fervor. When I sit up, he cocks an eyebrow at me. I push him back, so he's lying down, then straddle him, kissing him passionately and making my way down his body. He sucks in a breath as I remove his pants. Another sharp knock sounds on the door, more urgently this time. I stop, and Wesley smirks mischievously.
"Oh no, we're not done," he says, pulling me up the bed and positioning himself behind me. Whether it's the fear of being walked in on, or the fact this is the last time we will be able to be with each other, we both explode in pure bliss quickly.
"Don't make me come in there!" Silvarius shouts from the other side of the door. Groaning in annoyance, Wesley climbs out of bed, and pulls me with him. We quickly dress, and before we leave the room, Wesley grabs me, slamming me into his chest, and kisses me hard.
Opening the door, we find Anaria and Silvarius waiting by the dining room table, Silvarius impatiently tapping her foot.
"Alright, lovebirds. Say your goodbyes," Silvarius says, frowning slightly. My heart skips a beat, and suddenly the nausea has returned. I turn to look at Wesley whose face is blank and unreadable. He enfolds me in his arms, hugging me close.
"I love you, and whatever happens, I want you to remember who you are, and how strong and amazing you are. You have no idea how much you mean to me," he whispers into my ear. More tears pool in my eyes. I kiss him firmly, words failing me. I hug him tight before reluctantly letting him go.
"I love you, see you soon," I say, taking in his striking appearance one last time. His boyish smile, his sharp jaw, straight nose, those sexy ice blue eyes. My heart squeezes painfully as I watch him walk away.
Silvarius leads me to the roof just as the sun begins to rise in a sky painted in shades of pink. The city below is unusually still; no cars zip around, no people fill the streets. It's unnerving to see the usually bustling city so quiet.
Suddenly, a hovercraft materializes out of nowhere, as if it had been invisible. A ladder descends, and as I start to climb, an electric current binds me to it, ensuring I won't fall. A twisted sense of safety since they're sending me to my death anyways. I'd rather die plummeting to my death, than by the hands of Zane or something the Gamemaers have cooked up in their lab.
Once inside, a man in a white lab coat waits, holding a syringe. "This is your tracker, it will only be a second, stay still," he instructs, his blue eyes piercing from behind his black-framed glasses. In one swift motion, he stabs the needle into my forearm, implanting the tracker under my skin. Now, the Gamemakers can monitor my every move in the arena.
I am released from the ladder's grip, and then Silvarius joins me. She looks stoic, devoid of makeup. Her silver hair is perfectly tied in a bun at the back of her head, giving her a professional appearance. We're led to another room where breakfast is served.
A white table sits in between two chairs, covered with an array of eggs, meats, fruits, and muffins. Though my stomach churns with anxiety, I force myself to eat as much as possible, unsure when my next meal will come.
As the hovercraft nears the arena, the windows darken, blocking our view. My anxiety spikes through the roof, as the time dwindles before I am placed into an arena with twenty-two other tributes who want to murder me.
"You're going to do great, I believe in you," Silvarius says, smiling although it doesn't reach her eyes. I wonder what she's thinking. Does she feel empathy for us, or are we just pawns in a game to her? Are we just a stepping block for her to make a successful career and gain fame?
I sit, anxiously playing with the hem of my shirt. My thoughts drift back to Welsey. His last words echo in my mind, a mixture of love and sorrow. I try to hold onto his voice, his touch, the way his eyes softened when he looked at me. Fear claws at my heart, making it hard to breathe.
The darkened windows heighten my sense of isolation and dread. I try to steady my breathing, focusing on each inhale and exhale, but my heart pounds in my chest. Every second brings me closer to the arena, a fight for survival. I know I have to be strong, despite how I truly feel inside. I clench my fists, nails digging into my palms, grounding myself in the pain. I take one last deep breath, trying to muster every ounce of courage I have left.
Soon, the hovercraft lands, and I am led into the catacombs beneath the arena where I will be dressed. Each arena is preserved after the Games, so every one is built brand new. They keep them as a part of history, in a museum. Capitol citizens visit them to immerse themselves in the experience, some even re-enacting the kills.
In the launch room, where I'll be lifted into the arena on a metal plate, Silvarius turns to look at me, her eyes like liquid steel. "I heard what happened with Zane. That son of a bitch is lucky I'm not going in that arena," she hisses.
"I'm going to make him pay for both of us," I tell her, earning a small, approving smile. Silvarius' dress was breathtaking and Zane had to go and ruin it.
"You take him out first; that should be your priority. Next, find food and water," she advises, her expression softening with worry. Silvarius isn't exactly warm and fuzzy, but I know she cares about me to some degree. I may never find out whether that's because she sees the fame and fortune I can offer her if I win. "Do not let anyone stop you from winning this thing," she emphasizes, the word 'anyone' hanging heavily in the air. I nod, mostly to appease her. I'm okay with dying if it means Welsey lives. That's where my humanity separates me from the Capitol's citizens.
I am dressed in deep gray cargo pants, a long sleeve black shirt, and black combat boots that are surprisingly comfortable. Silvarius zips a lightweight jacket on me.
"I have a suspicion it will be a colder climate, with mountains," she speculates. How does she know this? I raise an eyebrow. "This jacket reflects heat, and is waterproof. Your belt has a latch for a carabiner," she explains. A mountainous region…that might mean caves and possibly a stream of clean water coming from the mountain. If Welsey, Lira and I can make it to a cave, we'll at least have some sort of shelter.
A voice announces that we have a few minutes until launch time. My stomach does a flip in anticipation.
"You've got this, don't be nervous. Focus on what you're here to do," Silvarius reminds me, pulling me in for a quick hug. She leads me to the metal plate, giving a light smile before helping me step up. This is it. I do as Silvarius says and focus my mind on survival. My thoughts shift from fear and emotion to pure determination. I close my eyes and wait for the metal plate to rise. Rolling my shoulders, I prepare myself as the metal plate pushes me out of the cylinder and into the arena. A brisk wind whips around me, carrying the scent of fresh, crisp air and something floral.
"Ladies and gentlemen, let the Seventieth Hunger Games begin!" Cladius Templesmith's voice booms, echoing through the arena.