SONG: Climbing Up the Walls by Radiohead

CONTENT WARNING: ATTEMPTED RAPE

Please be aware that there is some SA content in this chapter. It is slightly more graphic than other SA mentions in this story. If you don't feel comfortable reading it, please let me know and I will summarise the chapter for you in PMs.

Coile hadn't said a single word in the arena, and to Iris' knowledge, hadn't said a single word since. He just sat and stared. Stared at walls. Stared at his sisters. Stared at his mother. Stared at Iris.

She had asked Jordie to visit him, thinking that perhaps he would respond to an old friend. But Coile seemed to be locked away somewhere in his mind. He still ate, drank, slept. But he didn't speak, and he didn't try to do anything else.

"He's always been quiet," Coile's mother said to her tearfully one day, "but he's never been like this. Even when his dad left. He was upset, but he still - still talked to me -"

Iris felt awkward. She'd never been good around crying people, and she felt uncomfortable with Coile's family coming to her for help. But she didn't mind, not really. She knew that they didn't have another option, that she was one of the only people in the district who could help them. Help him. And although Iris wasn't sure how to help him, she was determined to try. She was certainly better at comforting people than Haylee was, although maybe not by a lot. Emily was better at it than the both of them, and comforted Mrs Cross so Iris didn't make things worse. She might not be able to help his mother, but she could certainly try to by taking care of Coile.

So she sat with him every day. Took him for walks around the Victor's Village. Sat with him in Haylee's garden, and handed him flowers to smell and fresh tomatoes from the tomato plants. She couldn't get a word out of him, but he seemed to relax slightly, when he was outside in the sunshine.

She talked to him, at first, to fill the silence, but eventually that stopped. He wasn't responding, after all, and she didn't want him to feel like she was pressuring him to talk. Because she wasn't. Wasn't trying to, at least. She knew what it felt like, to be trapped away in her own mind, and didn't want to force him out of it before he was ready. If he felt safe in there, locked away from the world, Iris didn't want to begrudge him of that.

So she stopped talking, too. She drew pictures, and held them up for him to see. Crows, cats, birds, bees. She painted sunshine, pouring through leaves, and she painted the sunsets that they sat together and watched. Jordie played Coile music from the collection he had built - old music, old bands, with strange names like Metallica and Radiohead and Pearl Jam. Coile didn't respond, but sometimes he closed his eyes. Sometimes his mouth quirked up, like he was trying to smile.

"Give him time," Lyme told her, when Iris called her for advice. "I was told that Wiress went through something like that, after her Games. She came out of it eventually."

"Did she, though? She still gets that look in her eyes, like she's somewhere far away."

"You get that look too. So do I. So does everyone. I think Coile is trapped where we all go to sometimes. But he'll come back."

Iris wasn't entirely sure what Lyme meant - but she understood, all the same. She was worried about Coile, of course, but he was alive and that was something. It was far easier to bring him back from his own mind than it was to bring him back from the dead.

/

Cady was Coile's elder sister, and Iris didn't like her one bit. She spent her newfound money on drugs and alcohol, and spent more time drinking in town than she did with her ailing brother. Although, perhaps this wasn't fair. She did spend a lot of time with him. Perhaps not as much as the rest of them, but she did try to help him. She swore and argued and didn't seem to trust anyone who didn't agree with her. Iris didn't like her one bit, and the feeling seemed to be mutual.

Cady didn't have a good reason to be the way she was, as far as Iris could tell. She hadn't been through some great trauma like Iris and Coile had. She'd grown up Uptown, poorer than the other residents, maybe, but far from being a slumkid. Her father was absent but her mother was alive and clearly doted on her children. She'd had to watch her brother suffer in the arena, sure, but he had come back - at least partially. All of that made Iris wonder why she seemed so desperate to block it all out. Cady seemed to hate being alive, for some reason, but her life was infinitely better than most of the people in Panem's.

She was caring in her own way, Iris supposed. Cady sat with Coile often, telling him stories about her rowdy adventures through the district, about the shit she got up to with her friends, about how cool it was he'd come home and saved them from their old house Uptown, from the hunger of the coming winter. She brought him food and made him drink water and pestered him constantly, as though she was hoping if she annoyed him enough, he would come back from wherever he was just to tell her to fuck off.

Iris liked this about her. Cady was selfish and utterly rude, but she still cared immensely for her family, and it was obvious that she would do anything for her younger siblings. Cady was the person Iris would be if she'd never gone to the Arena. And Iris wasn't sure how that should make her feel.

They walked together. Her and Cady and Jordie and Calla, taking Coile out to places it was safe for him to go. They explored all of the empty houses in the Village, examined all of the graves in the Tribute's Cemetery, visited the Market, and even some of the old factories no one used anymore. Iris quite liked the factories. They had been abandoned so long that nature had started to reclaim them, vines crumbling the old bricks, blackberry bushes taking over inside. One of them seemed to be Coile's favourite - a large tree had grown on the inside, reaching up to the ceilingless sky.

He still didn't - or couldn't - speak, but he had begun to respond to them a bit more. Once, he had picked up one of Iris' paintbrushes, and they had painted together. Another time, he had bobbed his head to the beat of Jordie's music. His sisters seemed to bring him great comfort, locked away though he seemed to be. Calla, the younger sister, was a ray of sunshine, and Coile seemed to brighten up a bit with her by his side, a small change of posture that anyone who hadn't spent 24/7 with him since his return wouldn't have noticed.

Iris felt like they would get him back soon enough. He had been having nightmares, Cady had told her. He hadn't seemed to dream at all, the first month home - there was nothing but silence. So the fact he was screaming in his sleep was almost a good sign. What kind of fucked up must he be, if they were actually happy he was having bad dreams?

The more time Iris spent with Cady, the less she liked her. And yet, she brought Iris a great deal of comfort. She was harsh and rude and didn't even try to be nice if she didn't want to. She always told the truth and never said things just to make someone feel better. She only said what she meant and Iris found that refreshing, especially after her recent stint in the Capitol. She would never get used to the charade of that horrible place.

She had been getting on better with Jordie, too. He spoke to her more than he had in months, and Iris was determined to make it last. She had cut down dramatically on her drinking, limiting herself to two nights out a week. These days, if she wanted to drink she went to the bar Uptown, away from the young, impressionable eyes in the Village.

The bar was the same as it had ever been - an escape. She didn't feel like the random hookups she had used to like, but still enjoyed drinking herself silly in a new environment. It was a comfort to Iris, knowing there were other people who were just as pathetic as she was. She enjoyed not being the only drunk person in the room.

Perhaps, though, in the time since living in the slums, she had become sloppy. Careless. She had made it home drunk countless times before and been fine, even if she didn't remember the journey in the morning. Living in the slums, she would have never put herself at risk in that way. In the slums, if you weren't a man, stumbling home drunk and alone was a great way to end up raped and murdered. She had forgotten about that danger, living Uptown, with the privilege of being a Victor. But her lucky streak had been bound to run out eventually.

She'd drank less than usual, a small mercy, and went her usual way home. Down the main street towards the Village, past the closed storefronts. She liked being in town when everything was quiet. She liked to imagine happy families asleep in their beds, although she doubted many of them were happy. How could they be, after all? Even with Package Day, food was scarce and money was tight for even the wealthiest residents of Six. It had always been that way, and Iris couldn't picture a world in which it would be different.

Drunk as she was, she had known they were there the moment they caught sight of her. Chills ran down her spine as she felt the eyes on her back. She hadn't felt like prey for a while, even in the Capitol - but it was a hard feeling to forget, and it was back. Discreetly, she patted her right pocket, where she usually kept her switchblade - and her stomach dropped when she realised it wasn't there. Fuck, she thought to herself, walking a little bit faster. Where had it ended up? She didn't remember putting it in her pocket - but she didn't remember not putting it in her pocket. She was sure she'd had it in the bar, so perhaps she had lost it there. Whatever the story was, she didn't have it now. She walked even faster.

She felt like a tribute again. Like the Careers were hot on her heels. Only, these Careers didn't just want to kill her. Their footsteps quickened, and Iris started to run.

She had never been incredibly fast, but she'd used to be able to run for a long time. But the last couple years of smoking and drinking had caught up to her, apparently. She wasn't as fit as she used to be, when she lived in the slums. Her lungs burned but even when she knew they were right behind her, she tried to keep running.

One of the men grabbed her from behind, pinning her arms behind her back. Iris yelled as loud as she could, but she knew no-one would come to her rescue. Even in the far safer Uptown, no one got involved in a situation they didn't have to. It was on Iris to get herself out of this.

There were two of them. One looked a few years older than she was, the other even older. They were strong. Factory men. Bigger than she was. Cool terror grew in her stomach and Iris kicked and scratched and screamed like a wild animal. "Let go of me!" The younger one grinned at her, showing off missing teeth, and the two of them dragged her into an alleyway. "Sons of whores!" she spat, kicking wildly. Her foot connected with the older one's stomach.

"Fuck!" he yelled, and backhanded her. "Fucking bitch."

The younger one pinned her against the wall. Iris struggled, but he was stronger than her, and she was still reeling from the first one's punch. Her heart was pounding in her chest. She hadn't been this scared since the arena. "What do you want from me?" she asked him.

The older one straightened up, the pain of her kick apparently wearing off. "Your money."

Iris felt her heart drop. She had spent all the sesterces she'd brought with her. Her pockets were empty. "I don't have any."

"Liar!" the younger one snarled. He flicked open a knife - her knife! He must have taken it from her at the bar. How hadn't she noticed? She remembered, now, vaguely, seeing them. They had been sitting across from her. She hadn't noticed them looking at her, but they must have been - how had they known about the knife in her pocket?

"That's mine!" she hissed, trying to knock it out of his hand. He dodged, and pressed it against her throat. Iris stopped wiggling, not wanting him to press it in harder..

"That's right," he said, smiling. "It's mine now."

"Give us your money, Victor bitch. We know who you are. You've got enough for everyone in the district."

"I spent it at the bar," she said, trying to keep her voice steady. "But if you let me go home, I can easily bring you some more."

"As if," the older one snarled. "You'll just bring back your Victor friends."

"Check her pockets, Rock," the younger one said, pressing his knife further against her throat. "She's gotta have something."

"I don't!" Iris protested, tears burning her eyes. "I really don't!" Fuck, she was pathetic. She'd brought this on herself. How could she be so stupid, to not have brought extra in case of something like this happening - she was so insistent on Jordie always having money on him and then she'd gone and forgotten herself.

The older man - Rock - slipped his hands into her pockets, feeling around. "Nothing."

"Check her bra. Some women keep money in there, remember?" The younger one said. How many times had they done this? Dragged women into alleyways, groped around for their money… what did they do to them afterwards? She had a nasty feeling that she was going to find out.

Iris really didn't want his hands in her bra. She brought her knee up hard between the younger one's legs, quick enough that he wouldn't cut her throat. He let go of her, groaning, and Iris made a break for it, trying to dash between them.

Rock caught her around the waist and threw her hard to the ground. Iris gasped, winded, and he punched her in the face. "Don't you fucking try to run away from me!" he screamed, spittle flying from his mouth. He ripped her shirt open, and shoved his hand into her bra, groping around for money. Coming up short, he looked back to the younger guy, who was recovering from Iris' hit to his crown jewels. "She doesn't have any, Ty."

Ty stood up, and looked down at her. The look in his eyes sent chills down Iris' spine. She didn't know what was about to happen to her - but she knew it would be something very, very bad. Worse, perhaps, than what happened to her in the Capitol. Iris had never been this vulnerable, even in the arena. Drunk, alone, outnumbered, on the ground. She could tell Ty didn't just want money from her. She could feel the pinpricks of tears in her eyes and tried not to let them fall. She didn't want them to know how scared she was.

Ty kicked her in the side, and Iris whimpered, curling up to protect herself. He kicked her hard in the back. Rock, the other man, took a step away from him, apparently content to let Ty have his way with her. Ty seemed to be the brains of the operation, if it could be said the operation had any brains behind it at all. Ty kicked her a few more times, with Rock occasionally joining in, before they apparently grew bored with this activity. He spat on her, and knelt down, grabbing onto the waistline of her pants. "You fucking worthless, ugly, bitch. No money for me, huh? I'll have to take something else."

Iris started to cry, but even as the tears poured down her face, a plan was beginning to formulate. She would not beg him not to touch her. She was going to wait until he was distracted, and take the knife from him, and stabbed him until he begged her.

Ty pulled her pants down and flipped her onto her stomach. Iris could feel herself start to shake, reminded of Lucan, of Marcius. At this rate, she wouldn't be able to hold onto the knife once she got it off him. She heard the sound of his belt buckle, and Iris took advantage of his distraction. She whirled herself onto her back and brought her elbow up. It connected hard with his face, and pain blossomed down her arm, but she ignored it. She grabbed his wrist and bent it backwards, and the knife clattered from his hand. Iris snatched it up and brought it quickly up into his stomach.

And then again.

And again.

She relished the feeling of it, the blade sinking in deep, ripping through this motherfucker's flesh. She wanted him to feel it. She wanted him to cry, to beg for mercy. She wanted it to hurt, for his last moments to be full of the pain he would have inflicted on her. He didn't beg for anything, but Iris pressed the knife in harder all the same.

He sank to his knees, his eyes rolling back in his head. Iris scrambled out of the way before he fell on her, glad to have her knife clasped firmly in her hand again. She looked at him, a dark satisfaction sinking into her as she realised he was dead.

There was a sudden thud, and it knocked her from her reverie. Satisfaction melted into dread. She had killed again. Fighting down vomit, Iris looked up. Cady was there, trembling from head to toe, staring between Iris and the bloody body on the ground next to Iris. There was a rock in her hand, and Iris realised that Rock was on the ground now. Cady must have bashed him with it from behind.

Was he dead, like Ty was? Because Ty was dead. She could feel his blood on her hands, all over her chest and stomach from when she had stabbed him. She was glad she had gotten out of the way before he had collapsed. She didn't want to have a man's body on her, pressing her down. Not if she could help it.

Dimly, Iris heard Cady talking to her, but it was as though she was far away. Iris pulled up her pants, and began to do up her buttons, but her hands were shaking so much that it was an impossible task. The ringing in her ears subsided. She hadn't noticed her ears were ringing until they weren't.

She looked up at Cady.

Cady was talking a mile a minute. "-what happened? I saw them, heard them yelling, but I didn't realise it was you until you stabbed that one -" Iris wanted her to shut the fuck up.

Iris got to her feet, picking up the knife from where she had dropped it after stabbing Ty. She walked over to Rock, who Cady had bashed over the head with a rock. Rock hit by a rock. Iris felt a hysterical giggle rise in her throat, but bit it down - if she started to laugh now, she wouldn't be able to stop.

Cady looked down at him, biting her lip hesitantly. "Is he dead?"

"I don't know," Iris said, dropping down. "Keep the rock, even if he is." She didn't think the Peacekeepers would care enough to investigate, but just in case they did, she should hold onto any evidence so she could get rid of it.

"I didn't mean to kill him, I just wanted to stop him before he could hurt you like that other man was trying to-"

Iris pressed two fingers against Rock's neck. There was a steady thud, thud, thud against her fingers, and Iris readied herself for what she had to do. She had to treat it like she was putting him down, before he could hurt her or anyone else. Cady was still chattering nervously behind her, but Iris tuned her out, and slit Rock's throat before she lost her nerve.

Cady stopped talking, and took a step back. "Oh my god. Iris, what did you-"

"Shut up," Iris snapped. "Help me drag him further into the alley, out of sight." She could feel herself shaking again. She'd never killed someone in cold blood before. In the Games, it had always been during a fight, when they were trying to kill her - but Rock hadn't been trying to kill her, and apparently that made all the difference. Iris felt sicker than she ever had in her life. "Near the dumpster, for when they start to smell."

Cady looked like she was about to cry, but did as she was told. She and Iris both grabbed one of Rock's legs and began to drag him. He was heavy, much larger than Ty - it was good that they were moving Rock first, because Ty would seem like a piece of cake.

No, Iris told herself. They don't have names. You don't know their names. They are the young one and the old one, not Ty and Rock. Together, they managed to drag Rock behind a dumpster, and then Iris returned to Ty, directing Cady to pick up one of his legs too. They dragged him next to Rock, and Iris rolled Ty on top of him.

"What do we do? Iris, what do we do? The Peacekeepers -"

"-could not give less of a shit about these two. They're from the slums, can't you tell?" Iris said bitterly, giving Ty's body a kick. "They'll think it was a deal gone wrong. Maybe not a drug deal, these days, but no one is going to bat an eyelid." She looked down at Ty - the younger one, she corrected herself sternly - and hesitated, before leaning down and pressing her fingers against his neck. "Okay, he's dead too." Of course, she had known that - she had stabbed him a fair few times, after all - but it was good to know for sure.

Suddenly exhausted from the effort, Iris stumbled backwards, and caught herself on the lid of another dumpster, trying not to be sick. Cady looked as nauseated as Iris felt, but rushed to her side, supporting her. "Are you okay?"

"No," Iris said. She realised that her cheeks were wet - from tears or blood, she wasn't sure. She leaned into Cady, realising that Cady had just helped her escape from what could have been her death, and felt a rush of gratitude. She barely knew this girl, she realised. They had only known each other for a month, Coile being their only connection - and Cady had been willing to potentially murder someone to save her.

Before she could stop herself, Iris was crying. Cady pulled her away from the bodies, into the street. Iris was sobbing, now. Great big heaving sobs. Cady pulled Iris closer to her and Iris muffled her sobs into the other girl's shoulder.

She had sworn never to kill again. She had sworn it to herself, and she hadn't thought she ever would have to kill again. But she had. And now it was no longer The Five, but The Seven. She was a monster, always would be, and sure Ty and Rock had attacked her but so had The Five -

Some time later, her sobs had subsided. It was still dark, but it wouldn't be night for much longer. Silently, Iris stood up. Cady trailed behind her nervously. Iris didn't say anything on the walk back to the Village, and neither did Cady. Iris wasn't drunk any more, and she needed to be.

/

She scrubbed the blood off of herself. Again. It seemed as though she was always doing that - although it was usually because she had hurt herself or been to an appointment in the Capitol. Had she ever washed the blood off, in the arena? She couldn't remember, but she supposed not. There hadn't been enough water for her to do that.

Now, though, standing under the pour of the shower, Iris was acutely aware of how horrible it was to watch someone else's blood swirl down the drain. Most of it was Ty's, she thought, but Rock had bled plenty too, with his throat slit like a pig's. It was different, killing in cold blood. Killing in hot blood, it was as though she didn't have time to think about what she was doing - she just did it, and worried about the consequences later. She was able, in a way, to justify those killings to herself. Them or me, except it wasn't like that this time - Rock had been unconscious, unable to defend himself, and sure he was probably a rapist and a murderer but she could have gotten away without killing him.

Bile rose in her throat and Iris gagged, spitting it into the drain. The nausea didn't subside, but most of her days were spent nauseated. It didn't bother her much any more. She scrubbed herself raw, and dragged herself out from the scalding water after the need for a drink became too painful to ignore.

Cady was where Iris had left her, sitting at the end of her bed. She looked up as Iris came in, clad in her fluffy pink bathrobe, a gift from Pomponia. It felt inappropriate to be wearing a fluffy pink bathrobe after killing two men, but she couldn't very well walk out of the bathroom naked.

"Are you feeling better?" Cady asked.

"Yes," Iris said dully, walking over to her closet, where she kept her spare alcohol.
"Is there anything I can-"

"Just stop talking," Iris snapped. "Please."

"Fine."

Iris pulled out a bottle of forgotten whiskey - one of Brandy's that she had been given when she visited District Nine on her Victory Tour. Iris usually preferred wine, but after what had just happened, she needed something stronger. Something that would hopefully put her into a coma so she didn't have to think about what she had done - what had been done to her.

She took a swig directly from the bottle, wincing at the burn. It really was very good whiskey, but Iris didn't care much for taste right now. She just wanted to drink. She was painfully aware of Cady, who was still watching her carefully.

Iris wiped her mouth and burped, holding the bottle out to Cady, who took it, taking a swig herself. She handed it back to Iris, still staring at her.

"What?" Iris snapped.

Cady scowled. "Didn't know I wasn't allowed to look at you. Will you ever forgive me?"

"You were staring, not looking. Did I grow another arm, or something?"

"Well, I'm sorry for being a bit in awe of you. I know I'm not a victor or anything, but surely you're aware of the effect you have."

"'The effect I have?'" Iris repeated. "What the fuck are you talking about?"

"You just killed two men in the span of like, a minute! And now you're just drinking like nothing even happened -"

"I'm drinking because it happened, moron-"

"-he was about to rape you and you suddenly just came alive, like you wanted the excuse to kill him-"

"The excuse?" Iris shrieked, drawing herself up to her full height. "He was about to- you don't even know what happens in the Capitol - I had to! He would have killed me when he was done!"

"'What happens in the Capitol?'" Cady repeated, seemingly not intimidated by the way Iris was leaning angrily over her. "What happens in the Capitol?"

All of the anger fled from her body at once. "Nothing," she said, backing down.

"No," Cady said, grabbing Iris' arm. "No, you're going to tell me."

"Why should I?"

"Because my brother -"

"I'll protect him," Iris said quickly. "Don't worry."

"But can you just tell me -"

"Shut the fuck up, Cady," Iris said. She shoved Cady's hand off her. "Just let me drink until I forget."

Cady stilled, and crossed her arms over her chest, scowling. Iris couldn't believe her. She was sulking, because Iris wouldn't tell her something she had no business knowing? She was sulking, even after what Iris had just had to do, even knowing what trauma it must have reminded her of?

She shouldn't have thought about it. Memories rose, and Iris tried to fight them down. Lucan, pressing her down… the sound of Taggerty, choking on his own blood… Marcius beating her senseless… the spray of blood after slitting Minerva's throat… She hyperventilated, tugging at her hair desperately.

They were out of the boxes, she couldn't have that… no, no no no no, she needed them to go back it, out of reach, to leave her alone-

The tears started again, and then Cady was there, wrapping her arms around Iris. Iris sobbed again, and set the bottle down, crawling into Cady's lap and crying. "I don't want to remember, Cady. I don't want to remember." Cady didn't say anything back, just stroked Iris' hair back from her face, rubbed her back as she sobbed.

When Iris had finished crying again, for the second time that night, the whiskey had started to kick in. She was feeling numb, but not enough, and reached for the bottle again.