Vintage Zahavi, 18: District 1 Male
Feels like we're on the edge right now
I wish that I can say I'm proud
I'm sorry that I let you down
Let you down
June 25, 73 ADD: 12 days before Reaping
"Vintage?" I raise my head up from the magazine I was reading and look across the room to meet the eyes of Crystal, the front desk receptionist at Dr. Hartman's office. "Dr. Hartman is ready to see you now."
I rise from my seat in the waiting room and head through the door separating the lobby from the back hallway. Everything in the office building is spotless, and it's eerily silent. No one really books appointments at this time of day. I approach the door at the end of the hallway, marked 'Dr. Taylor Hartman' in big bold letters. Slowly, I turn the metal door handle, noting that it's particularly cool to the touch. The door swings open, revealing the meticulously organized office that belongs to Dr. Hartman. It looks the exact same as the first time I stepped foot in this building four and a half years ago. All those years ago I was told that coming to this place would make me feel better, but I can't really tell if this has actually been working or not. But I keep coming here. It could be because it's actually helping or it could be false hope. Either way, I still come here time after time.
"Good morning, Vintage," Dr. Hartman says, looking up from his computer screen. "Have a seat wherever you like."
I sit down right in the middle of the leather sofa right across from Dr. Hartman's desk. It's the same spot I've sat in since I started coming here. I've thought about choosing another seat, but I like when I can keep things the same. Nothing bad ever happens when things stay the same. I don't have to worry about disappointing anyone when things stay the same.
"So, how has everything been going?" Dr. Hartman asks.
"Things are going," I answer. Dr. Hartman smirks a little bit. It's the same answer I always give him.
"Care to elaborate?" he continues. "How's the family?"
"They're doing pretty well," I say. "Dad and Rose are good."
"And what about Mom?" I cringe at the mention of my mother. Suddenly, memories flood back. Unpleasant memories. Memories of how she tried to micromanage every aspect of my life without me even realizing it. I remember how she would steer me in the direction she wanted for me, always saying how she knew me better than anyone. She never really listened to what I had to say. Every word out of my mouth was in one ear and out of the other. Then she and Dad divorced. She tried to tell Rose and me that we wanted to live with her, but Dad fought for us. Thank god he did, otherwise who knows where I would be now.
"She's…" I hesitate for a moment, long enough for Dr. Hartman to understand that talking about my mother probably isn't the best option. He sighs and scribbles something down on his notepad. My heart sinks. Is he disappointed with me?
"We don't have to talk about that right now," he says. "Anyways, I heard through the grapevine that the Academy has picked their designated volunteers."
"Yeah," I confirm. "I got the spot."
"Congratulations," Dr. Hartman says. "That's a pretty big deal if you ask me."
"I'm glad I was picked," I say. "Evaluation week was hell."
"I bet it was. But I knew you would pull through." Dr. Hartman sounds proud. Maybe I haven't disappointed him.
"But I do have my concerns." And just like that, the nerves have returned. "I'm worried about how you'll hold up away from home for so long."
"Me too," I admit. Despite all the progress I've made, there's always the possibility that I could fall back into my depression. I've been doing everything in my power to avoid it, but I've only been able to do so because it's all I really ever had to focus on. When I leave here, my mind will be pulled in a million different directions. "I know I have all the practical ability, but I don't know how mentally prepared I am. What if I'm not strong enough?"
Dr. Hartman thinks for a second, taking off his browline glasses and chewing on the temple piece, a mannerism that I've noticed from the very beginning.
"Well, let's focus on those practical abilities," Dr. Hartman says. "I know it seems counterintuitive but bear with me here. What can you do well that will help you in the arena?"
"I'm pretty good with a bow," I start. "I've got pretty good endurance and I've been told I have a strategic mind."
"Alright, whenever you feel your confidence slipping away, think about all those things you just said," Dr. Hartman says. "That's going to help you a lot."
"But what if that's all that I have going for me?" I ask. "What if I lose my practical skills somehow? Or what if I go insane? What if-"
"Vintage, calm down," Dr. Hartman interjects. "You're focusing too much on the 'what ifs'."
"But that's all I can think of," I say.
"And why is that?" I don't even think I can give a straight answer to this question. There are so many reasons why I keep thinking of all of these worst-case scenarios. I search in my mind for an answer that will sound at least halfway logical. There's so much that could happen to me that I don't want to happen to me.
"I- I don't want to lose my humanity," I finally sputter out. "You saw what happened to Cyrus last year. I don't want to go down that same path. I don't want to be viewed differently if I win."
"I promise you that you won't," Dr. Hartman says.
"What makes you so sure?" I ask.
"You're not Cyrus," he replies. "You are your own person, Vintage."
"But everyone will see me as just another tribute." The thought of being reduced down to just another person to enter a Hunger Games arena is a thought that doesn't sit right with me.
"I won't," Dr. Hartman says. "And neither will your father or your sister. When you come back, we won't treat you any differently than we treat you now. I can promise you that."
Dr. Hartman can promise me that he won't treat me differently if I come back, but I can't make any promises myself. I can't promise him that I won't forget all of the things that make me who I am. I can't promise him that I'll come back the same person as when I left. I can't even promise him that I'll come back. He can make all sorts of promises to me, but I can't promise him a single thing. If I did, I'd surely let him down.
I don't want to let anybody down.
Hysteria Warring, 18: District 1 Female
Run fast from my day job
Runnin' fast from the way it was
Jump quick to a paycheck
Runnin' back to the strip club
June 30 ADD: 1 week before Reaping
I anxiously check my watch as I sit idly behind my drum kit, looking around at the rest of the band. Almost everyone is accounted for. Roman is sitting by the garage door, thumbing through his book of guitar tabs that he's had for at least six months now. Skip is right in front of me, going through his ever so obnoxious vocal warm up routine that I'll never fully understand. And finally, Artemisia and Leo, both sitting back, obviously unbothered by the absence of our bass player.
"Do any of you have an idea where Cassia could be?" Fed up with just sitting around doing nothing, I ask for any sort of hint at what could possibly be taking our missing member so long. I remember telling her last time we met that we would meet again today at noon, but of course she's late once again.
"She's probably just running a little bit behind," Skip says. "Just be patient. She'll be here eventually."
My brother has always been more patient than I am. I'd like to think that I'm decently patient as well, but that doesn't mean that my patience can't ever be worn thin. I lean back against the wall and let out an exaggerated sigh, looking up at the dull gray ceiling. It reminds me a bit of a cloudy day. We don't get many cloudy days in District 1, especially this time of year. The sun is always high in the sky, casting its rays down, heating everything up to nearly unbearable temperatures. The spring thunderstorms are months in the past, leaving the dry heat of summer in their wake.
"Well look who finally decided to show up," Leo says, her voice pulling me out of my little daydream. I watch as Cassia pulls the side door shut, giving Leo the most unamused side eye I've seen from her in a while.
"Why is she even here?" Cassia asks, gesturing to Leo.
"I mean, this is our house," I say. Leo flips her hair in a mocking manner while Cassia rolls her eyes in response.
"I oughta take a drumstick and shove it-"
"Whoa, gettin' a little feisty I see," Roman interjects. "I like it."
"I'm gonna stop you before you even get started," Cassia says. "We're not doing that flirting shit today."
"Oh, come on," Roman says. "What happened to playing along?"
"I realized how disgustingly hideous you were," Cassia shoots back.
"Oop-"
"Ouch, that one really hurt," Roman says, feigning offense. Cassia just glares back at him.
"Alright guys, let's actually try to focus here," I say, trying to get us back on task. If I didn't say anything, we'd be here all day. "I don't have time for this nonsense today."
"That's right," Skip says. "Hysteria has an important designated volunteers' meeting to be at."
I detect a bit of bitterness in Skip's voice. He can't still be upset over the Academy's decision. It was made two weeks ago.
"Skip, you're not still mad about not getting the spot, are you?" He takes a deep breath, what he always does when he tries to compose himself. There's something bugging him. I just know it. I can practically feel it.
"That's not what's bothering me." Well, it's good to know that's not what's wrong, but I still need to figure out exactly what the issue is.
"Then what is?" Another deep breath. My heart sinks. It's worse than I thought. Whatever is on his mind has probably been eating him up inside.
"It isn't that I wasn't chosen," Skip says. "It's that you were."
I scoff. Not because I think it's funny. I'm genuinely confused. Why would Skip be upset that I got the designated volunteer spot? If anything, he should be proud. Right?
"What's so bad about that?" I just can't imagine what about me getting the designated volunteer spot could make Skip so upset. This is supposed to be a good thing. Well, at least I thought it was supposed to be.
"It means that you'll be gone for at least a month," Skip says.
"Okay, it's just a month," I say. I'm still struggling to understand what Skip is trying to get at here. He's never been the clingy type. What has gotten into him?
"But what if it's longer than a month?" He asks.
"Then you'll just have to wait a little longer." Skip drops his head into his hands in frustration. I'm still very much perplexed by Skip's attitude. Everyone else has been happy for me since the decision was made, but Skip hasn't. He hadn't talked about the decision until now, so I just assumed that he was just upset over the Academy not choosing him
"You just don't get it, Hysteria," Skip says.
"Get what?" I ask. "I'm genuinely confused here."
"I thought you'd understand by now." With those words, I feel my sense of calm slipping away. The sweat on my palm warms my drumsticks as I tighten my grip on them. It's taking every single fiber of my being not to just yell at Skip at the top of my lungs.
"Just spit it out." I glare at Skip with laser beam eyes, hopefully getting the message across that I do not have the time to play these games with him today.
"What if you don't come back?" Silence permeates the garage. You could hear a pin drop. Everyone just sort of looks at each other with wide eyes. We're all thinking the same thing. I'm sure of it. I've been trying to avoid this conversation altogether, but it was bound to happen eventually.
"That's not something that I really want to think about." Skip doesn't look satisfied with that answer, but I just want to shut down this conversation as soon as possible. The less I think about my own death, the better.
"It isn't something you can just avoid," Skip says. "You could very well be dead in a few weeks."
"I'll deal with it when I actually have to face it," I say, trying to get Skip to realize that I don't want to continue this conversation. He doesn't get the hint.
"What if you're not ready to deal with it?" Skip presses on. "Then what?"
"The Academy wouldn't have picked me if I wasn't ready," I say. "I'll be fine."
"I still don't think you understand Hysteria," Skip says. "We already lost Evie. We can't lose you too."
The mood in the room shifts again. I thought I had moved on from Evie's death, but suddenly I'm taken back in time to my older sister's sudden passing. None of us were ready for such terrible news that day. Little did we know that it would literally turn our family upside down. Ryland left Dad and pretty much ruined our relationship. It became no secret that Evie was Ryland's favorite. He became so detached from the rest of us after she died. I don't want to think about what could possibly happen if I don't make it.
"Okay, I think you've gotten everything off your chest now, Skip," Leo says with tears threatening to spill out of her dark brown eyes.
"But-"
"We're done here," I finally pipe up. "We're done with rehearsal now. Sorry guys."
I set my drumsticks down and head back into the house, ignoring my fellow band members' protests. The door shuts behind me, and I go straight to my bedroom. As soon as my bedroom door closes, I drop down to the floor. The tears that I had kept from falling in the garage pour out. I just sit and cry silently to myself, finally forced to face reality.
What if I don't make it out?
Hey y'all, I finally got this chapter done! I hope you enjoyed meeting Vintage and Hysteria. I thoroughly enjoyed every minute I spent writing these two. I think they're an interesting pair and I hope you think the same. Even if you don't, I hope you're happy to start meeting the tributes. A huge thank you goes out to foxfox12 for Vintage and chcolate for Hysteria
As you may have noticed, I put song lyrics under each tribute's POV. If you read No Way Out, you know that I like to pick a theme song for each tribute I receive so y'all can get an idea of how I see the character as well as sharing a bit of my music taste. I really see it as a way to let my readers know a little bit more about me. If you want, you can take a listen and tell me how accurate each theme song is in a review.
Vintage: Let You Down-NF
Hysteria: Broken Clocks-SZA
Anyways, I hope you guys enjoyed this chapter. I'll see y'all again in District 2!
Until next time,
Ty
