This was everything I had ever worked for—my dream, my life's goal, finally within reach. Doubt had never even crossed my mind when I volunteered and waved goodbye to my District. But as the Peacekeepers led me into the goodbye room and the door closed with a heavy finality behind them, doubt—sharp and cold—pierced through me for the first time.
I had never been claustrophobic, but in that moment, I felt trapped, like a cornered animal. My stomach churned, flipping so violently that nausea quickly followed. I sank into the plush armchair, gripping the armrests as if they could steady me, and forced myself to use the breathing techniques my mother had taught me as a child. I've made a mistake. The thought hit me as hard as the situation itself. I had never doubted my decision to volunteer for the Games, but now, fear tightened its grip around my chest, making it hard to breathe. What if I couldn't do it? What if I fell in the bloodbath and broke my ankle? What if the Arena wasn't suited to me? What if it was a water-based arena? I was never the strongest swimmer.
The mixture of fear, anxiety, and regret churned within me, reaching a boiling point, until I doubled over and vomited onto the hardwood floor. The acidic taste burned in my mouth, and I winced as I shakily rose to my feet, stumbling away from the mess. As if on cue, the door creaked open, and my family spilled into the room. I stared in horror as their eyes fell on the sickly puddle.
"I'm so sorry!" I blurted, fumbling for the box of tissues. "I'll clean it up—"
"No need," the Peacekeeper who had led my parents into the room sighed. "I'll call in a cleaner after your goodbyes." With that, he left us alone.
"Saph, you're not unwell, are you?" my mother asked, rushing to my side and cupping my face with gentle hands. She took a tissue from the box I clutched and carefully wiped the corner of my lips.
"I wouldn't have volunteered if I was," I assured her, offering a quick thanks as she fussed over me. "I guess I just got a bit nervous." My mother smiled softly, nodding as if she understood.
"That's understandable," my dad said, stepping forward with a reassuring tone. "This is a big decision, but you have all the necessary training." I nodded, managing a small smile as my stomach gradually settled. I glanced past them to my brother, Adonis, who scrunched up his nose in distaste.
"It stinks," he grumbled. "What have you been eating?"
"Like yours smells any better," I shot back, rolling my eyes. Adonis grinned, his trademark mischievous smile lighting up his face.
"Oh, mine smells like roses. You're just weird." Before I could retort, our mother turned and shot him a scowl. His smile vanished instantly, and he mumbled a quick apology. She was a warm person who rarely lost her temper, but when she did, you knew you had crossed the line.
"Well, we don't have much time," my father sighed, stepping closer and opening his arms. I fell into them, feeling the strength of his embrace, and then moved on to hug my brother and mother just as tightly. I didn't want to let go, and each time, they had to gently push me away.
"I'll see you in a few weeks, okay?" my mother said softly, tucking a strand of my dark hair behind my ear. I nodded, giving her a small, reassuring smile.
"I'll come home, Mom," I promised. She kissed my forehead, and I only then noticed the tears welling in her eyes. Before I could say anything, the Peacekeeper reentered the room and ushered the three of them away.
For a moment, dread clawed at my insides again, but it was short-lived. The door swung open once more, and this time, my best friend, Jane, rushed in. The goodbye room was stark and cold, with walls painted a sterile white that seemed to sap the warmth from the air. The only furniture was the armchair I had collapsed into and a small, unadorned table in the corner, its surface polished to a dull shine. The faint scent of antiseptic lingered, mixing unpleasantly with the sour smell of my earlier sickness.
Jane's boots echoed on the hardwood floor as she crossed the room in a few quick strides, her arms wrapping around me in a tight, desperate hug. I clung to her, trying to draw strength from her presence, but when she pulled back slightly, her eyes immediately found the mess on the floor.
"Saph!" she gasped, her voice laced with concern as she looked me over. "Are you unwell?"
I shook my head, trying to muster a smile, but it felt weak even to me. "I'm just nervous," I sighed, glancing at the pool of vomit as shame twisted in my gut. "That's all."
"They haven't given me long to talk," Jane said hurriedly, her grip on my arms tightening as if she could keep the seconds from slipping away. Her eyes, usually bright with mischief, were now clouded with worry. "But listen to me, Saph. You're the strongest candidate out there. You've trained harder than anyone. You can do this, and you will come home."
She spoke with a fierce determination, as if her belief alone could shape the outcome of the Games. I wanted to believe her, to let her words banish the dark thoughts that had taken root, but a sliver of fear remained lodged deep within me.
"I've never considered a reality where I don't win," I admitted, my voice barely above a whisper. It felt like a confession, one that left me feeling raw and exposed. "What if… what if I don't make it back?"
Jane's expression softened, her hands sliding down to grip mine. Her fingers were warm, grounding me in the moment. "Don't think like that," she said, her tone both gentle and firm. "You're going to win, Saph. I know it. You've got everything it takes. And I'll be right here, waiting for you when you do."
Her words were like a lifeline, something to hold on to as the world threatened to spin out of control. I squeezed her hands, trying to draw strength from her unwavering belief in me.
Before I could respond, the door creaked open again, and the Peacekeepers stepped into the room. Their white uniforms blended into the surroundings, making them seem more like extensions of the room itself rather than people. Jane's eyes widened, a flicker of desperation crossing her face as she realized our time was up.
"No! Wait!" she cried, her grip on my hands tightening as the Peacekeepers moved toward her. "Not yet!"
One of them grabbed her arm, pulling her away from me. Jane struggled, trying to stay close, her eyes locked onto mine as if she could will me to stay strong.
"I'll see you when you come home, okay?!" she shouted, her voice echoing off the cold walls as the Peacekeepers dragged her toward the door.
I nodded, the movement small but resolute, even as I felt a fresh wave of fear rise in my chest. "I'll come home," I whispered, clutching onto her words as the door slammed shut, leaving me alone in the oppressive silence once more.
As quickly as the door shut, it swung open again. I glanced up, and my chest tightened when Glint shuffled in, his presence bringing with it a swirl of emotions I had tried to bury. He offered an awkward smile, his dark eyes avoiding mine at first before finally meeting my gaze.
"Hey, Saph," he said softly, his voice tinged with the familiarity that once brought me comfort but now only stirred up confusion.
"Glint," I breathed, the word slipping from my lips before I could think of anything else to say. My heart hammered in my chest, and I forced myself to stay composed, even as memories of our time together rushed back.
He hesitated, shifting on his feet as if unsure whether to step closer or stay where he was. The silence between us grew heavy, thick with everything that had been left unsaid. Finally, he took a tentative step forward, his eyes flicking around the room, landing briefly on the sick before darting back to me.
"Does Shimmer know you're here?" I asked, my voice coming out sharper than I intended. I hated how her name felt on my tongue, how it twisted something deep inside me.
Glint winced slightly but didn't look away. "It's not really her place to say where I go," he replied, trying to keep his tone neutral. His words hung in the air, and for a moment, neither of us spoke.
The awkward silence stretched out, filling the small room with an unbearable tension. My mind raced, searching for something to say, something that wouldn't betray the mix of emotions churning inside me. But before I could speak, Glint broke the silence.
"I do care about you, Saph," he said, his voice quiet but earnest. "I know you probably don't believe me, and I get it. We were… toxic together. But that doesn't mean I don't care."
I looked at him, studying the familiar lines of his face, the way his short-cropped hair framed his features. He looked the same as always, but something in his expression was different—softer, more vulnerable. And yet, his words only deepened the ache in my chest.
"Really?" I asked, my voice trembling slightly, "why did you come here? To tell me you care, even though we're bad for each other?"
Glint opened his mouth to respond but then closed it again, his brow furrowing as he struggled to find the right words. "I don't know," he finally admitted. "I just… I wanted to see you. One more time, just in case…"
He trailed off, and for a moment, the mask of composure I had been holding onto began to crack. I bit down hard on my lip, refusing to let the tears come, but Glint noticed the change in my expression.
"I felt like… like I couldn't just let you go without seeing you," he said, his voice thick with something I couldn't quite place—regret, maybe, or longing. "I had to be here, even if it doesn't make sense."
The door behind him creaked open, and the Peacekeepers stepped into the room, their presence a cold reminder that our time was up. Glint's eyes flicked to them before quickly returning to mine.
"Good luck, Saph," he said, his voice rushed now as if he could sense the finality of the moment. "I'll be cheering for you."
Before I could respond, before I could process everything that had just happened, the Peacekeepers were already pulling him away. The door closed behind them with a dull thud, leaving me alone in the oppressive silence once more.
I stood there, staring at the door, feeling a hollowness spreading inside me. The room felt colder, emptier than before, and the only thing I could feel was the dull ache in my stomach. The realization hit me hard—I might never see these people again. I had known it in the back of my mind, but now, it felt real, tangible in a way it hadn't before.
The tears I had held back finally broke free, sliding down my cheeks in hot, silent streams. I sank back into the armchair, curling up as tightly as I could, trying to make myself small in the vast, empty room. The tears came harder now, sobs shaking my frame as I cried for everything I was about to lose, for everyone I might never see again.
And as the tears fell, I couldn't help but wonder if this was what goodbye was supposed to feel like—an emptiness so profound it threatened to swallow me whole.
Sorry it took a while but I finally got around to finishing Saph's goodbyes! I skipped her actual Reaping because I think everyone here has read a thousand Reaping chapters where the Tribute volunteers. Sapphire's was overall uneventful and went smoothly so I didn't see the need to write that. I'm still not competently sure how many chapters will be part of the pre-games but it's currently about ten. That could change though. We shall see.
Let me know what you think of the chapter and Saph's friends and family and I shall see you next time!