CHAPTER 4

THE WEEK THAT

KNOCKED ON HELL'S DOOR

Afternoon exercise was the worst thing to be forced upon. Dove ran far behind Ron, stumbling three, four, five times on the way from the market to Victor's Village. She didn't particularly hate running, or any sort of exercise for that matter, but she despised it when she was supposed to be elsewhere. Her place was at home, watching television for the beginning of the Tribute Parade, which couldn't be further than an hour away.

It took half an hour at her speed to reach Victor's Village, particularly her home, which was around the middle of the dozen pair of houses. Angel was already there, panting too, but clearly in a better shape than she would ever be. Her sister's 'daily exercise' had been taken care of by Rhett, who, despite being elderly, could still run at the same speed as he did during his Games, quite the impressive feat.

Like her fellow victors, Mags had her own set of rules implemented. Exactly at five o'clock, they would all sit down at the living room table and have tea time. It was more of a distraction than actually time to enjoy pastries and tea. If only it had been any other time, Dove wouldn't have minded as much. Her attention was nowhere near the living room table, and nor was her mother's and sister's. They were all captive of the passing news and the continuous reminders to tune in for the Tribute Parade.

Caesar Flickerman's face appeared in the television five minutes later, marking the start of the Tribute Parade. He welcomed an exited crowd of Capitol spectators to the 'death march', as Dove had nicknamed it. Needless to mention Caesar used no such words. To call the sacred Tribute Parade 'death march' could be at par with owning weapons in a district, a form high treason. Claudius Templesmith also formed part of the presentation, but he was by far the quietest and calmed of the pair. He would never comment or speculate until District One appeared, the same moment his entire knowledge over that district and its jewels would simply leave his mouth like a waterfall to a pond.

At the largest sofa in the living room, Dove snuggled close to Angel, grabbing onto each other's hands like they could fall at any moment. District One had yet to appear and Caesar was already mentioning their brother to the audiences. He mentioned how excited he was, particularly due to Melo's physical opposite looks with Librae Ogilvy, his adoptive mother. The way Caesar emphasised the word 'adoptive' irritated Dove. Did Caesar think they were any less of a family for not sharing blood? Even if he did, couldn't he have kept it to himself? Of course not. He was a Capitol man.

Angel let go of one of her hands to cross her fingers as she closed her eyes tightly. "Please don't let him be dressed like a starfish."

A chair slid back with a loud screech, unconsciously snapping everyone's attention to the creator of the disturbance. Librae paced around the sofa, not stopping until she heard Claudius Templesmith's voice. Then, she froze by Angel's side, besides the right arm of the sofa.

District One appeared, glittering with who knew how many jewels dumped on their unnecessary revealing clothes for fifteen-year-olds. Other years that would have created some reactions among Four's Victors, sighs or snarky comments, but that year all that could be heard was dead silence.

Dove sat up straight, still holding onto her sister's hand with her own. District Two passed with the Capitol's usual reaction, a large gasp. 'Ready-made killers' that would be about the 66th consecutive year the tributes from Two went with that strategy. District Three had the standard clap as they appeared. Nobody was usually too fan of those tributes despite their immeasurable intelligence and quick-thinking. The Capitol was more interested in looks, after all.

Murmurs spread like wild fire the moment District Four's chariot came through. Only about Melo, the Victor's adopted son. The screen split in two so the audience could see Caesar's and Claudius' reaction along with District Four tributes' general welcome in the Capitol. Their excitement was both good and bad. The Capitol would undoubtedly have its eye on Melo for a long time, but that didn't mean they would help him win the Hunger Games. Among the crowd, Dove could spot a few people eyeing her brother with contempt, almost awaiting to witness his death in the Arena.

She blinked a couple of times and focused on the only thing that matter, or the sole person who deserved her full attention. Her brother stood with a defiant look, waving at the crowd, but giving those chariots before him a murder look, which clearly was not overlooked by anybody. 'The rightful owner of the Victor's title, that was Melo's approach. Dove knew he had everything to be a Victor, yet the cold look in his eyes and the over-the-top cheerfulness towards the Capitol made her stomach revolt. He didn't seem like her brother at all, but some kind of puppet.

After twenty minutes, which passed like twenty seconds, the twelve chariots halted before the Training Centre, awaiting for President Snow's speech. The president stood at his balcony, repeating his usual speech, which had a variation of around two to three sentences every year. Dove had counted them as an entertainment method.

Sunset had just begun to drown the City Circle with its light when President Snow's speech ended. The doors to the Training Centre opened, and there the chariots got through, disappearing from everyone's eyes. It would take five days to see any of the tributes again. Five long days in which the twenty-four would have to prepare themselves to die while trying to hold onto the hope that, if the odds were in their favour, they could be the ones to leave the Arena alive. Whether they considered that winning or survival was entirely up to them.

The broadcast had finished, tainting the screen black. Movement spiked in Dove's living room, and yet she was still sitting on the sofa, quiet and unmoving. Her mind had frozen a thought without her permission. In six days' time her brother's life would be threatened, the Hunger Games would begin relatively early in the morning, claiming between six to nine deaths solely in the first hour. The odds that her brother would become part of them increased by the minute. Neither District One nor Two had seemed all too pleased with getting all the spotlight taken away from them.

If it hadn't been for Ron, who carefully drove her attention back to reality, she would have never found her way to her bed. Angel was too focused on their mother, crying her eyes out on Mags's shoulder like she had just seen Melo's actual death. Dove was sure her mother's cries had more than her mental instability to blame, but, for the time being, she couldn't spare the mental power to figure it out. She ignored the goodnight wishes and let Ron guide her to her own room, where she closed the door behind her to bury herself under the covers, drowning herself in the heat like that would be the only piece of reality her mind could process.

Three in the morning and there had been no change. Dove lay in her bed, staring at the ceiling golden decorations glimmering under the faint candlelight. It all seemed so distant, so detached from reality. Her hands didn't seem to respond as she tried to take her hair out of sight, nor her legs when she tried to get up. Exhaustion kept her prisoner of her own mind, condemned to a lifetime of thoughts louder than sounds, of spurting feelings more powerful than rationality.

Nights just like that repeated along the week, making Dove reach to the fifth day with a total of twenty sporadic hours slept. There were no bags under her eyes, nor any noticeable marks, which let her undergo Ron's and Theo's radar without being interrogated or monitored. The Victors had kept on visiting each day, spending more time with her and her family than by themselves in their own homes. One peak at Dove's and Angel's mother made it clear why. Librae hadn't cried once since the Tribute Parade, not one time, and her dazes had decreased. That could seem like a good thing, an improvement. However, the chance that it could spiral down at any second was something to take into consideration.

Hawk eyes were on Dove and Angel as the tributes' interviews begun, making sure not one tear would pass unnoticed without their intervention. Dove sat between her mother and her sister on the largest sofa, glancing at the both of them. How many others were in their same situation? How many other families were watching knowing that their kids could very easily be dead by morning? She knew perfectly how it felt, it wasn't her first time, though it surely was the most sentimental. No loss of a friend could compare to her brother.

Mags soon offered to spend the night with them under the excuse of spending time together. It was no mystery to Dove that what Mags actually wanted to do was watch over her family. She knew it was a suggestion made out of the elderly woman's pure intentions, but Dove didn't feel too comfortable with that. Any other day, fine, but not just that day, nor the ones to come until the Victor was out of the Arena. Perhaps even later.

To everyone's surprise, Librae was the one to deny. Her Capitol kind of tone came through as she tried to be overly polite, trying to make Mags understand that, even though they appreciated the sentiment, the three preferred to be alone.

Caesar's voice overthrew Librae's careful denial. The twenty-four tributes were already in their positions, sitting at the back of the stage while Caesar paced up front. He welcomed everyone to what he called 'the tributes' final goodbyes'. How could he use those words and make it seem something good? That was beyond Dove. She stared at Caesar like she would to a bird with three wings and two beaks. His white teeth, birghter than humanely possible, and sparkly hair were the least odd things to have in Capitol standards, yet his excitement over every little thing and sudden snarky laughs were something worthy of arching her eyebrow.

The first tribute to be called was the girl from District One, a tall blonde that attempted to seem deadly despite her revealing dress making half the Capitol's crowd pay no attention beyond her looks. Her district partner had a better shot at seeming deadly, since his outfit permitted more people to pay attention to what we was saying. The first ones who were worth listening to, District Three, were one of the most overlooked. More often that not, the Capitol spectators would tune out at any smart talk, and concentrate only on the tributes' outfits or their dramatic stories.

Four's female tribute wobbled her way up to Caesar, which he tried to pass it as simple nerves. The girl simply laughed and let Caesar take the lead in the interview, giving short and shaky answers, and some times trying her best at being more eloquent. At least it seemed a few people had liked the idea of being saviours, since any Sponsor that could fall on her would not be for any other purpose.

Finally, the buzzer rang and Melo came to the stage, clearly ready. His calm demeanour reflected a great deal with last year's Victor, Finnick Odair, and a glance in her mother's direction let Dove know she was right. In the five days Melo had been training and prepared for that night, his approach had changed from a deadly son of a Victor, to a charming boy who clearly had all the odds on his side.

"Welcome. Welcome Melo," said Caesar, attempting to quiet down the longing sighs from the crowd to start the interview.

"Thank you, Caesar." Melo smiled, waving one last time to have an excuse to look at the crowd, not only attentive at his looks, but at his every word.

Dove leaned forward, clenching her hands together as she raised her eyebrows in pure astonishment. "He's won everyone over in a single second." Her eyes travelled to her mother for a second. "The last person who accomplished that was Finnick, right?"

Her mother nodded, and the living room fell into an eerie silence.

"Well, let's start with your individual assessment, Melo. A ten!" Caesar exclaimed, giving Melo's shoulder a slight pat as they glanced at the crowd, which roared in excitement. "That's quite impressive if you ask me. Could you give us any details?" Melo laughed the question off, saying that even though he wanted to, no tribute was allowed to disclosure their assessments. "Alright, so how about we talk about your family? You were adopted by Librae Ogilvy at what age exactly?"

Dove leaned back on the sofa, amazed at Caesar for bringing up that topic of all the possibilities.

"Three years old," Melo said politely.

Caesar stopped to think for a second. "So it's been—"

"Thirteen years." Melo nodded.

"That's your younger sister's age, isn't it?" Caesar asked, feigning excitement, or perhaps actually feeling it, Dove couldn't actually tell when it came to Capitol people.

"Yeah, it is," Melo replied reluctantly.

Caesar's interest grew to an absurd point at that moment. "How is life with them? Your sisters and your mother."

"Life is great. Our mother is the kindest person we know, and my sisters trail just a little bit behind. But just a little," said Melo, causing the crowd to laugh for no real reason.

"Well, don't do that to us!" Caesar turned to look at the crowd with eyes like plates. "Now I'm itching to meet them, aren't you too, folks?"

"So you're itching for us to go die. Thanks, I guess," Dove mumbled through gritted teeth.

A roar louder than any other before spread across the crowd. Melo smiled, containing the corner of his lips to not let out a chuckle. He could picture his sisters' reaction to such a stupid statement like he had them right in front of him. They were so close, enough to touch. But, if he reached out, they disappeared. A mist of hopeless dreams banished between his fingers, knocking the smile off of his face.

Caesar redirected his attention back to Melo, ready for another row of stupid questions, or so it seemed. "On a more serious note, Melo. They're in District Four, and you're here, about to enter the games. Is there anything you would like to say to them?"

"Um, yes, actually, I do have something to tell them." Melo straightened on his seat and looked at the camera before continuing. "Mum, Angel, Dove, I love you all. If only I had known my life would be filled with so much happiness thanks to you, I would have treated you like family the moment I met each of you… I promise these are not my last words to you. You just have to wait, I'll be back home soon."

Dove had only processed her brother's words when she heard her mother's distinctive cry. The mess extended through the Victors as the seconds passed, waves of realisation hitting deeper than weapons could only dream of. There were so many sobs, she could hardly hear the buzz, signalling her brother's interview's end. Her sister turned to her with teary eyes, expecting her to break down first, but Dove couldn't. No tears left her eyes. In fact, she felt numb. Enough to get pricked and not bleed a single drop. Despite this, Angel wrapped her arms around Dove's torso and assured her it was alright to cry time and time again.

Dove, however, kept on being still. Long minutes of overlooked interviews passed by protected in her sister's arms. She learned no names, saw no faces, or learned any stories. As far as she was concerned, the rest of kids destined for a likely death were no more than lifeless dolls, capable of moving and talking, but with no sentiments at all. That made it simpler to await their deaths.

The Victors left shortly after, their faces and shirts drenched in tears, some not their own. Dove and Angel waved them off as their mother remained seated at the living room's sofa, staring idly at the black screen of the television. They had to call her a few times to get her to react, which ended up in the oddest of nights.

The three slept in their mother's room, which had the widest bed. It wasn't the first time they had a 'sleep over' as they had named it when they were no more than nave kids, but a good five years had passed since the last one. With Angel being seventeen, Dove on the road to fourteen, and their brother gone, they had doubted such an event would repeat. Obviously they were wrong.

Dove lay in the bed by her mother's side, opposite side to her sister. She watched the same glimmers of gold on the ceiling as that afternoon's events started getting registered in her mind. A silent torture that went on for hours. Not even dreams could appease them.

One moment the glimmers were fading into a black mist, and the other she was watching the Hunger Games. Her brother, more concretely. He was among the districts One and Two, sleeping. Alliances were risky with them, and he paid the price for such. His head rolled off the green grass, tainting it blood-red as it practically flew away from his body.

Screams drowned her ears from the moment she woke up, realising only a second later that they were her own. Somehow that didn't wake Angel up, but there was no evading her mother, who had already been awake by the time she had started to toss and turn in her sleep.

"I thought you'd be the first," her mother said nonchalantly, bringing her close to let the first signs of tears stream down how they pleased. "I guess prayers really do nothing."

"I saw him." Dove allowed herself to cry and sob, ruining her mother's nightgown with her tears, though her mother clearly didn't care. "He was with One and Two, and they… they…"

"I know." Her mother stroke her hair with one hand as the other made circling motions around her back. "I know, sweetie, I know."

"Why! Why does he have to die?" Dove hit her mother's shoulder lightly, feeling as if that would make the pain constricting her chest go away. "We didn't do anything… We didn't… He…"

"He promised," her mother added, pulling Dove back to look into her eyes. "He promised he'll be back."

Dove bit down on her lower lips and nodded, restraining herself from telling her mother that indeed her brother would be back. There was no other way. The tributes' coffins had to be brought back to the families, and Melo could be no exception.