CW: Abuse and Language
Gideon Holland, 17, District Seven Male
Gideon paced back and forth across the room, trying to comprehend just how unfair this all was.
He was an agent of justice. He gave the scum of the district what they deserved, cleaned up the streets, and brought closure to the people who were wronged, something that the Peacekeepers rarely did themselves, and this was how he was repaid?
And to make matters worse, they've saddled him with a criminal for a district partner.
The irony would have been hilarious if it hadn't been so infuriating.
His family and Rudy never showed up. He looked behind him as he was being led out, hoping to catch a glimpse of them, but he couldn't find them. Part of him wondered if perhaps it was because something happened to his sister. Maybe the shock of her brother being reaped had caused her to go into labor early.
The door opened, and Gideon looked up, and his blood turned into ice as a middle-aged couple walked inside. Gideon recognized the family resemblance instantly. Circadian's parents.
"Gideon," his father said with a smile, a smile that did not reach his eyes.
"Mr. and Mrs. Asper," Gideon replied, hating how he had to fight to keep his voice steady. Why was it so hard to talk to them? He did nothing wrong, after all.
"Has your family come by to say goodbye to you yet?" Mr. Asper asked.
Gideon shook his head. "No, sir."
Mr. Asper nodded. "I'm sorry to hear that. I know you knew my son, Kirk."
"Yes," Gideon replied. "I'm sorry about what happened to him."
Mr. Aspen shook his head. "You don't have to lie, son. I know you hated him, and I can't blame you for that, given your history. He was a good kid, but he had his enemies."
Gideon nodded, trying hard not to laugh. Circadian was not, in fact, a good kid. A good kid didn't defile gravestones, send his family into crippling debt in order to fix them, and then proceed to do the exact same thing without a damn care in the world.
No, Circadian got what was coming to him. Gideon wouldn't dare say that out loud though, not here, and not in the presence of his still grieving parents. That would be unbecoming of him.
"There was something we wanted to give you," he said, "as an apology for what our son did. It was found in the graveyard where he was killed, near your mother's grave actually. I believe you should take it with you into the arena."
Mr. Aspen handed a small bag to Gideon. Gideon carefully took it and pulled out the item inside. He hoped that when his blood went cold at the sight of the bright red scarf that Circadian had worn in the winter months.
The same scarf he wore that fateful night.
And now his parents wanted him to take it into the arena. Was this some kind of joke? Has the universe not taunted him enough?
"I…can't accept this," Gideon said, the shock straining his voice.
Mrs. Asper smiled sadly. "You can and you will. Kirk felt terrible about what happened, and we think he would have wanted you to have it. Please, take it."
The Aspers would not take no for an answer it seemed. Gideon sighed, then nodded. He carefully put the scarf around his neck. "Thank you. I'm honored."
Mr. Asper carefully adjusted the scarf, then gave Gideon's arm a hard squeeze, looking him dead in the eyes, a hard look on his face. "Do our district proud, Gideon," he said.
With that, the peacekeepers came to collect them, and Gideon was left alone to process what just happened, to process that look at the end.
The Aspers knew. They knew what happened.
Why would they give him the scarf though if they knew? Gideon felt his head spinning with confusion and panic, but quickly forced it back down, remembering his own words to Circadian.
"You don't regret what you've done, have you?" Circadian didn't regret what he did. If he didn't regret it, then why should Gideon regret what he did in turn?
Hyacinth "CiCi" Fluss, 18, District Nine Male
CiCi tried to keep his feet under him so that he could properly walk, but the Peacekeepers seemed insistent on dragging him to…wherever it was they were dragging him to. His prison-issue sandals had long since slipped from his feet, and the old, thin carpet started to burn as it scrapped against his dry, blistered heels.
He looked around frantically, trying to get a glimpse of someone, anyone who could let the Peacekeepers know that he was more than capable of walking. When he was forcibly turned down another hallway and towards a doorway, his eyes went wide when he saw who was guarding the hallway. "Flo!" he cried. "Flo!"
Flo didn't so much as acknowledge CiCi's existence, not even when the Peacekeepers shoved him inside and his hands scraped against the carpet. CiCi tried to get up and rush for the exit. "Flo! Please! What's going to happen to me?"
There was no response as he was once again pushed back, and the door was shut and locked in his face. As Flo disappeared behind it, CiCi swore he saw his face change. Did he look…proud of himself?
"Dammit!" CiCi cried, slamming his fist into the doorframe.
He took a few deep breaths, trying to calm himself down. "Step One," he said to himself, "figure out what the hell is going on." The video said the same thing over and over again, about a fight to the death, but surely that was an exaggeration, right? Surely the Capitol wouldn't do that, make kids fight to the death? That was beyond messed up. Whatever the Hunger Games were, it was going to be better than whatever was waiting for him in that jail. He had to believe that.
CiCi turned and walked over to one of the old dusty chairs and practically fell into it, wincing as the springs inside the cushion groaned with the sudden weight (what kind of chair had springs, anyway?), and just stared at the carpet. Wherever he was going, it was better than where he was. CiCi kept repeating that mantra in his head, trying to ignore the nagging feeling in his head that something was seriously screwed up.
A better place.
A few minutes later, the door opened, and in walked CiCi's parents and two of his siblings, Hydrilla and Hygrophila. He could see the others standing in the hallway, waiting their respective turns as the Peacekeeper slammed the door closed behind them.
For a moment, the four of them could only stare at each other. CiCi had no idea what to say. This was the first time they had seen him in weeks, and he had nothing to say to them. How much did that say?
CiCi's father was the first to break the silence. "So, why'd you do it?"
"Do what?" CiCi asked. "Volunteer? Get arrested? You'll have to be specific."
"Are you seriously being this nonchalant right now?" Hydrilla snapped. "You vanished off the face of Panem for weeks! The only reason we knew you had been arrested at all was because of a fucking rumor, and we couldn't even confirm that!"
"Hydrilla, watch your language!" CiCi's father said firmly.
"No, I think we all deserve an explanation from him. Are you really this selfish, CiCi? Were you really that desperate to run away from home? Do you even know what the Hunger Games are?"
"Do you?" CiCi retorted.
Now, it was CiCi's mother's turn to snap. "CiCi! This is serious! We didn't even know where you were or if you were even alive! We were worried sick! And the next we see of you, it's when you volunteer for the Hunger Games! We barely know a thing about them! We don't even know if we'll see you again!"
Was it just CiCi's imagination, or were they concerned about him?
Part of him wanted to tell them everything, but that was too long of a story for what little time they had. "Look, I promise I'll tell you everything when I come back. And I will come back."
"Are you sure about that?" Hygrophila said, a sad look in her eyes.
"I'll be fine. How bad can the Hunger Games be, really?"
Amoransia "Ansi" Pitch, 16, District Twelve Female
"What were you thinking?!"
They had whisked Ansi away to the farewell room, and almost immediately, the door had burst open, and Marin and Minuet, both clearly in shock, walked in the room.
Minuet was pale and shaking. Marin's eyes were wide and frantic.
And Ansi…
Ansi was just glad that Marin was paying attention to her again.
"I…" Ansi couldn't find the words that could properly describe her reasoning, about how Minuet didn't deserve the fate that was laid before her, about how much she wanted Marin to be happy.
The events of the past few minutes caught up with Minuet before Ansi could think up an answer, and the other girl burst into tears. "Y-you saved my life," she said between sobs. "You… You might die because of me."
As quickly as Marin's attention was on Amoransia, it was back on Minuet. He wrapped his arms around her, letting her cry into his shoulder and stroking the back of her hair.
It felt like a cold shadow after a brief moment of sunshine.
Ansi watched them, and in Marin's eyes, she saw a mix of relief and terror, relief for the girl he loved, but who was the terror for?
Did it really matter? She just wanted to see Marin happy, and while she wouldn't dare tell him that now, she knew she would do it again in a heartbeat.
What was another secret to take to her grave?
Ansi wished for those three minutes to last forever, even though it was silent. When the Peacekeepers came, she tried her best to memorize Marin's face. She knew the odds of ever seeing him again were so low, so very low. She wanted to take the memory of those eyes with her to wherever it was she was going, even if those eyes weren't on her.
Alas, time ran out, and the Peacekeeper came for Marin and Minuet. Before he could grab Minuet, she threw herself at Ansi and enveloped her into a hug. "Thank you," she said quietly, "and I'm sorry."
Why was she sorry? If anything, Ansi should have been sorry. Her cruel treatment of the girl, even due to her parents' influence, was unforgivable.
Ansi pushed her confusion aside and returned the hug, hoping to show one more piece of kindness to Minuet. "I'm sorry too," she said.
Marin reached out and squeezed Ansi's shoulder. Ansi wanted to cry at the gentle touch that she had missed so much. "Be safe, okay?" he breathed, trying to hold his own emotions in.
Ansi gently pulled away from the hug and stood tall. "I will," she said firmly. She wanted to say so much more. She wanted to tell him how she felt, tell him that he had her heart, but she couldn't bring herself to say it.
Then, the Peacekeepers took them away and as the door slammed shut, she was left wondering why she didn't. She reached into her pocket, where she had kept that old handkerchief that Marin had loaned her so long ago, something she knew she should have returned but could never bring herself to give up that last little piece of the boy she loved.
A source of comfort and turmoil, a blessing and a curse in a time like this.
It didn't take long for another visitor to appear. Halen took two large strides and held his sister tightly. "Ansi, why?" he breathed. "Why did you do it?"
Ansi didn't answer, and just hugged her brother just as tightly, marveling at just how much he had grown over the years. He was taller than her now, no longer that frail little boy she took away from that inn so many years ago. A sense of peace settled over her as they held each other one last time. Everyone she cared about would be alright. They would be just fine without her. Such a thought hurt, but with her district partner in another room, probably worried for his poor family, it was a luxury that not many had.
"It was the right thing to do," she said.
(Maybe if she told herself enough times, maybe she'd start to truly believe it.)
Tilly Mayfield, 16, District Nine Female
Tilly's friends were the first to visit. Seble and Juniper both looked completely rattled. "Tilly…" Seble breathed. "Oh, Tilly…"
"I'm okay," Tilly said, hating just how much her voice shook.
Juniper shook her head. "Tilly… It's okay if you're not okay."
Tilly just looked down and her vision began to blur. She didn't want to cry, she didn't even want to give the illusion she was about to cry, but these were her friends, and the odds of her seeing them again were so low…
Seble sighed and walked towards her, Juniper right behind him. They pulled Tilly into a tight group hug, and now Tilly was really in danger of crying, especially when she could feel her friends' tears drip onto her shirt. "You'll make it back," Juniper said as she placed her hand on the back of Tilly's hand. "I know you will."
Seble choked back a sob and he gave her shoulders a squeeze. "Just stay strong, okay? Stay strong, and don't do anything crazy. You'll be just fine."
Tilly wasn't so sure about that. All she could think about were the kids twice her size, the kids who trained for years and could take her out in the blink of an eye. All she could think about was how the kids who did survive lost themselves in the process.
"Just stay positive…" she told herself. "Just stay positive…"
She couldn't afford to doubt herself when her two best friends had so much faith in her, but she couldn't bring herself to lie to them either. Tilly forced a smile and squeezed her friends tighter. "Take care of each other, okay? No matter what happens, take care of each other."
"We will," Juniper said. "You know we will."
Tilly didn't want to let go, but when the Peacekeepers dragged her friends away, she forced herself to do just that. "You got this, Tilly!" Juniper said.
"We'll see you soon!" Seble added.
Then the door closed and they were gone forever.
The silence was deafening. It was so final, it was almost overwhelming.
Tilly felt tears well up in her eyes. She tried to force them down, she tried to remain strong for when her family showed up, but the moment that door opened and her parents and her aunt and her cousins walked into that room, Tilly couldn't hold it in anymore.
Bran and Emmery were at her side instantly. Bran held her tightly while Emmery clutched her hand, weeping. Her parents and her aunt followed, all providing various forms of comfort. Everyone was crying. "You have your bracelet right," Emmery said between sobs. "The one I made you?"
Tilly nodded. "Of course I do," she said tearfully. "I'll take it with me, and when I see it, I'll think of you. I'll think of all of you."
"Just try to come back, okay?" Emmery said. "You're strong. You can do it."
Tilly nodded again. "I'll try. I promise you, I'll try."
Bran stepped away and gently pulled Emmery with him, giving room for Tilly's mother and Aunt Maizie. Tilly's mother gave her a hug and kissed the top of her head while her aunt stroked her hair. "We love you," her mother said. "We love you so much. Never forget that, okay? If things get bad in there, just find the sun, okay? It's the same one for all of us. And we'll watch over you every second."
Tilly sniffled. "I know," she said. "I know, and I will. I just…"
Aunt Mazie shushed her. "No, don't say things like that. Just…promise me you won't lose your smile."
Tilly smiled, hoping her family wouldn't notice that it wasn't entirely real. "I won't. I promise."
"I'll stay positive," she thought. "Even if it gets bad, I'll stay positive."
"You could be like, Panem's sweetheart!" Emmery piped up. "You have such a pretty smile! You'll win them over!"
Bran gave a watery laugh. "She has a point."
"There you go," Tilly's father said. "We believe in you, sweetheart. Just remember that."
Tilly nodded, and her father pulled her into a big bear hug. She felt her shoulders shake with sobs when she realized that this would be the last one she would ever get. She took in every second of it, and only let go when the Peacekeepers came.
Tilly and her family cried to each other, so many "I love yous" were exchanged. Tilly clung onto them as long as the Peacekeepers would let her. Her pleas for more time were ignored, but to their credit, they did look sorry as they shut that door for the last time.
And Tilly was once again alone.
Viorica McCoy, 17, District Six Female
CRASH!
The ugly cracked vase shattered against the old bookshelf and its shards clattered to the ground, kicking up some dust that had settled onto the floor over the year of disuse.
Viorica watched them bounce cathartically on the old wooden floor. Normally she would feel bad about destroying a piece of pottery, but a stained white vase that smelled strongly of roses was hardly art, and honestly, if the idiots in the Capitol were more than eager to take away her life, they could live with a smashed vase or two.
Her poor district partner looked terrified when they led him away. Strangely enough, Viorica wasn't terrified. She was angry. So incredibly angry, that the moment she was in that stupid room, she started breaking whatever she could find.
It wasn't fair. It wasn't fair at all. Viorica had plans, her whole future ahead of her, and now it was about to be taken away because some shallow rich Capitol woman couldn't be bothered to move her hand a few centimeters to the left. Viorica stood to lose it all, quite possibly in a slow and painful way, to the cheers of a government that was supposed to protect her.
It was such bullshit.
A fresh bout of rage welled up in her and she lashed out, striking a nearby lamp and sending it flying towards the same fate as that stupid, plain vase.
"Viorica McCoy!" The sharp sound of her mother's voice drew her attention away from the ruined vase and towards the doorway, where her parents were standing, a mixture of shock and disapproval on their faces. Viorica fought the urge to roll her eyes. Even when she was about to die, her parents had something to say about it.
"What?" Viorica snapped. "Why are you here?"
To their credit, Viorica's parents didn't look so disappointed after that question. Instead, they look saddened. "As much as you might wish otherwise," Viorica's father replied calmly. "You're still our daughter, and you're making a scene."
"There's no cameras here," Viorica retorted. "I think I have a right to be angry, Dad."
"You do," Viorica's mother pressed. "You absolutely do, but outbursts like this, like what you pulled on the stage? That's not going to fly in the Capitol! That's going to get you killed!"
"I'm going to get killed anyway!"
"You don't know that!"
Viorica could feel the anger rising, tears welling in her eyes, and she had to fight the urge to punch a hole in that ugly wallpaper.
Viorica's mother sighed. "Viorica, you know I don't approve of your…hobbies…but…" Her voice trailed off.
"But," her father continued, "I think we can all agree that it might help you in the arena. You're a smart girl, Viorica. You're smart and talented, and you have a chance as long as you don't throw it away because you couldn't keep your mouth shut!"
Viorica opened her mouth to retort, trying to find a wisecrack or some way to lash out, but couldn't find any words. However, she couldn't bring herself to admit her parents were right either. "I'll be fine," Viorica muttered.
Viorica's parents looked at each other, and then approached her carefully. When they hugged her, Viorica stiffened at the contact, but reluctantly returned it. "We know you will," her father said.
They didn't need to wait for the Peacekeepers to come and get them. They simply told Viorica that they loved her and left the room, leaving Viorica with mixed feelings.
As angry as she was, she knew she couldn't let her temper upset the Gamemakers, but at the same time…
Viorica sighed and began pacing back and forth. Her mind began to race as she tried to think of something, anything she could do to make it back home.
Perhaps when AJ arrived, he would know what to do. After all, he understood her more than her parents ever would.
Macha Callaghan, 18, District Two Female
Macha entered the room, her confident and stoic demeanor giving way to exhilarated excitement.
She had done it. She had actually done it.
Years of preparation and hard work had led up to the moment she stood on that stage and took in the crowds, the cameras, and all of the attention. It all led up to the weeks ahead, the parade, training, the interviews, the moment she entered the arena, and the moment she would leave it, not as Macha Callaghan, Tribute of District Two, but as the Victor of the Seventy-Eighth Annual Hunger Games. She could see it now, District Two's fourth Victor in six years.
That moment in the spotlight was but one of so many moments to come.
It was every Two kid's dream, and she was living it.
It took a while for her family to arrive, but Macha didn't mind the wait. They were probably shaking hands with important people and boasting about their daughter. They would be her only visitors, but that was fine too. They all had one last breakfast together earlier that morning, and she had said goodbye to them then.
No, it was not goodbye. It was "See you soon."
Macha had every intention of reversing this journey, and any other tribute who even dared think otherwise would soon meet the wrong end of her saber.
Yet, despite her confidence, a small flicker of doubt echoed in her mind.
When her parents and brother finally arrived, pride radiating on their faces, Macha made sure that doubt was wiped away. She rose to her feet and approached her parents confidently.
Macha's father placed both hands on her shoulders. "Macha, I am so proud of you."
"Thank you," Macha replied. "I promise I'll do this family proud."
"I know you will," he replied.
Nigel grinned. "And when you get back, maybe we can go on a trip? I always wanted to see what District Four is like."
"Nigel," Macha's mother scolded.
Macha giggled despite herself. "I don't know if we'll be allowed to do that, but don't worry. Here in a few years, it'll be your turn. You'll win, and we can go to District Four together."
Nigel smiled and went to Macha before hugging her tightly. "I would love that. Just be careful, okay? I know you'll be fine but…"
"Of course, I'll be fine." Macha waved off his concerns. "Don't worry about me, Nigel. I'll be back soon, I promise."
"Just remember," Macha's father said, "you're not just doing your duty to Panem, but to the House of Callaghan as well. Take pride in that."
Macha straightened up. "Family before all," she said.
"Family before all," her father repeated, the pride on his face increasing. "You should know that some of our fellow houses have already expressed interest in sponsoring you. Prove yourself to the Capitol as you've proved yourself to Two, and you won't want for anything in that arena. We all believe in you. You've already made us proud. Now make your district proud. Make your country proud."
Macha's mother ruffled her hair. "You'll do great, honey. We'll be with you, every step of the way. Don't worry."
Macha's father nodded. "Just remember everything I've taught you. Use your head as well as your sword. And enjoy this. You've earned it."
Macha straightened up confidently. "I'm not worried," she replied. "The other tributes may as well already be dead. They won't stand a chance against us."
Macha knew this. She knew she was going to dominate that arena and she was going to win. Still, she couldn't help but feel a twinge of fear in the back of her mind. What if she couldn't live up to those high expectations? What if she did something dishonorable in a moment of desperation, and tarnished the Callaghan name? What if she failed?
Her family's honor was everything to her. If she lost that, then who did that make her?
Astral 1, Doc Manager 0! I finally got the stupid thing to work!
I hope you enjoyed this batch of goodbyes. These POV rounds are going to be fairly long as I'm doing six tributes at a time and planning to dedicate 500-700 words to each POV. If they're too much, let me know and I'll split them up. I figured this was the best way to get to the Games before Chapter 40!
Next time, we'll be boarding that fateful train with Safira, Becket, Hen, Blanca, Tilly, and Dawn! I will note that due to some life events, the chapters will slow down considerably, at least until April. If you're curious to see where I am in writing the next chapter, I'm updating my profile regularly!
See you next time, everyone! All aboard!