Chapter 33

NARRATOR | Eddie James, District 11

TIME | Day 5

TRIBUTES REMAINING | 15

The air in our camp is alive; after the tensions of the last few days, it feels like we're finally starting to settle down as a group. Ashlyn has Wyatt propped against a tree in the corner, and she's been checking on him regularly. I'm not sure what her fascination is with the new boy - she's been paying more attention to his wound than she needs to, really - but it's a necessary distraction for us all. Ansel has finally started to get himself together, and it seems that his relationship with Verity has mostly recovered.

The sapphire gave us a healing gel for Wyatt's leg yesterday; it's getting better, and Ashlyn thinks we'll even have some extra gel when he's healed. When the tracking beam went off last night, we had to relocate further away from the Cornucopia, but we've avoided detection so far. The sun's started to set over the Arena, so it'll be less than an hour before we're forced to make a run for it again.

With nothing else to talk about, we've started talking about our lives back home. I kept it brief; thinking about home just makes it more painful that I'm gone, but a part of me doesn't miss Eleven one bit. Ansel talked about how he was a lumberjack back in Seven, and Verity told us that she was a power developer back in Five, just like we'd heard in Training, but refused to give up any more information.

"You don't need to know about me," she'd shrugged. "Trust me."

Wyatt's story surprises me the most. I can tell that he's trying to hold back some parts for Ashlyn's sake, but what he does tell is pretty horrible. Life in Twelve sounds even worse than in Eleven - they may not have the field overseers whipping them every day, but the people of Twelve are starving to death.

"The only way to get paid is in the mines," Wyatt shrugs, his eyes pointed at the ground. "And they don't let you do that until you're eighteen. Most men who do it are dead within ten years. And after that, what are their families supposed to do?"

"Well, how'd you survive, then?" Verity asks, her arms crossed over her chest. "If you had no way to make money, you had to find food somehow. Humans can only go a few weeks without food, you know. Our bodies give out otherwise."

"Well, we are in the Hunger Games," Wyatt mutters. "I did things I'm not proud of. Sold myself to people who I knew wanted to take advantage of me. I had to do it for my mother. We had no other choice."

Nobody speaks. I can't imagine being in Wyatt's position - sure, my family is as poor as they get, but at least we all were able to work hard to keep food on the table. To have that option taken away would have meant the end of my family.

"In some ways, it's better to be in here," Wyatt sighs. "At least if I take food from the trees I don't have to worry about being shot. The only hard part is knowing that I've left my mother behind. Even though what I did wasn't right, I still did it for her, and it kept us alive. Without me, I don't know what she's going to do."

Wyatt glances at Ashlyn, and I can tell that he wishes he hadn't revealed his life to her like this. I can see a conflicted look in her eyes; she's wiping tears from her eyes, but she looks unsure of how to feel about Wyatt after learning all of this.

"What about you, Ashlyn," I sigh, trying to shift the conversation away from Wyatt for everyone's sake. "You told me about your sister back in Training, right?"

"Right," Ashlyn smiles through her tears, laughing a bit at the memory. "Mindy. We're so similar, really. You'd love her."

Ashlyn pulls her locket from beneath her shirt - I'd forgotten about it, but I remember seeing Ashlyn hold it that first night we talked on the balcony of the District Eleven suite. The locket jingles silvery notes as it opens to reveal three pictures.

Ashlyn turns the locket to show me her family; Mindy is right in the middle, a spitting image of her sister. I look to her left and my heart nearly stops. That man, her father... that's the man who whipped Dom, my brother, for stealing fruit back in Eleven. He almost killed my brother.

I feel nauseous. Ashlyn told me that her father was a field overseer, but I had no idea that he was that one... she's never shown me her locket before, so I couldn't have known.

I'm torn as Ashlyn turns the locket to give Ansel a look. My District partner is such a sweetheart, but she's so oblivious to the system that her father is a part of. A system that kills people like me every day in our District.

I want to tell Ashlyn all of this, but I look in her eyes and I can't. She loves her father, the man in the locket who feels a universe away. Now is not the time to tell her something like this.

"Beautiful," I say with a fake smile, leaning back against a tree trunk as Ashlyn slips the locket away.

"Okay, Wyatt," she sighs. "Time to check those bandages again-"

I hear a crack and glance over to see that Ansel has broken the stick he was playing with. He glances up at me as he tosses the twig to the ground.

"You need to get some energy out," I tell him, rising to my feet. In reality, I think I need to get out of here just as much as he does. "Come on, let's take a walk."

"The sapphire will start glowing soon," Verity warns us as I pull Ansel up from the ground. "Be back soon."

We promise Verity that we will, and I lead Ansel through the trees.

"What's going on with you?" I ask my friend as we weave through the trees. "I thought we were over this, Ansel. You need to pull yourself together."

"It's hard," Ansel sighs, shaking his head. "Everything's gone to shit. Every day I'm in here I feel like I'm suffering... I could've just died five days ago and I wouldn't have to deal with any of this."

"Don't think like that," I say, crossing my arms. "Nobody said this would be easy, Ansel. But if one of us wants to make it out of here alive, we have to be there for one another. Nothing has changed since Training other than Safira - we're all the same people we were before this all started."

"Are you sure?" Ansel huffs. "I mean, Ashlyn's barely on our side anymore with Wyatt here. It's like she's obsessed with him, and now I don't know if she'd stick with us over him if it came to that."

"Come on, Ansel," I object. "It's always been us three, right?"

"Verity's gonna betray us either way," Ansel says, his breathing getting heavier. "There's no point, Eddie. Everything's fallen apart. Even our relationship is fucked after you tried to kiss me, I don't know what that was-"

Before I know what I'm doing, my hand is slapping Ansel's face. I grab him by the neck, pushing him against the nearest tree.

I know I should feel free here - the Capitol doesn't care about any of this - but all I can think of is my family at home watching this. What would my mother say?

"That never happened," I snarl. "You're going crazy, Ansel, making things up. Take it back."

"You're right," Ansel says, his eyes wide as he struggles against my grip. "Eddie, I'm sorry, really-"

I come to my senses and realize what I'm doing, and I release Ansel from my grasp.

"We don't need this, Ansel," I bite, frustrated. "I need you and you need me. And we both need Ashlyn, no matter how obsessed she is with Wyatt. But I need you to be here for us as much as we've been here for you. We all promised that we'd stay strong in here, and we can only drag you around for so long."

"You're right," Ansel nods, his eyes apologetic. "Come on, let's walk for a minute."

I glance through the trees, where I can barely make out our allies. Luckily, it seems like none of them saw our altercation. Ansel grabs my arm, leading me through the forest and away from our camp.

"Are you okay?" Ansel says as we walk. "I've never seen you like that before. That was... scary, if I'm being honest."

I look at Ansel; his eyes are pointed at the ground, and he looks like a child who's just been scolded. I know he didn't mean to hurt me by saying what he did, no matter how stupid it was. How could I hold that against him?

"I'm sorry," I sigh. "This hasn't been easy for any of us. A lot has been on my mind, and I guess I just snapped."

"You know you can talk to me," Ansel says, glancing up at the trees. "You're right, you know. We have to be here for one another or we won't survive."

I want to tell Ansel what's just happened, but part of me wants to hold onto this secret. As soon as I speak it into the world, I have no control over who could hear it. If the Gamemakers use this against me, or even worse, against Ashlyn...

"Don't tell Ashlyn," I force out with a sigh. "That picture of her father she showed us... I know that man. He was a field overseer in Eleven, I knew that already. They're the ones who are supposed to keep the field workers in line."

"Like Peacekeepers," Ansel nods, his brow furrowed. I can tell that he doesn't like the idea, either - Ashlyn is a sweet girl, but the Peacekeepers are detested across Panem.

"Well, I've seen him before in Eleven," I continue. "A few years back he caught my brother Dom smuggling fruit from the fields. It was my Ma's birthday, and we were gonna make her some juice. He beat my brother so badly that he nearly died... I saw the whole thing; that was back when I was working in the fields. And I couldn't stop him... if I tried, he would've beaten me, too."

"That's insane," Ansel says, his mouth hanging open. "Why didn't you say anything to Ashlyn? Does she know about it?"

"I doubt it," I shrug. "She doesn't really know what her father does at work, from what I can tell. And here's not the place to tell her. She misses her family, and I'm not going to take that from her."

"You're stronger than I am," Ansel says, shaking his head. "But I'm glad you told me. Do you feel any better now that you did?"

"Yeah," I exhale. It does feel like a weight's been lifted from my chest, and I can breathe a little easier. I've never been good at being vulnerable - I hold everything in until I explode, like I did at Ansel earlier - but this was good for me, I think.

"We should get back to the group," Ansel says, winding his arm around my shoulder and pulling me closer; it feels like he's holding me back, keeping me from retreating back into myself. "It's getting late, Verity will start panicking."

"Right," I nod. "Let's get back, then."

"Hey, listen," Ansel says, looking me in the eyes. "It's you and me until the end, right? No more moping, no more hiding how we feel. Let's leave everything in the past."

"Done," I say, unable to keep a smile from growing on my face. Safira's death was nearly a week ago now, and it finally feels like we are emerging from the rubble of that horrible event.

The others barely glance up at us when we return - Ashlyn is still fussing over Wyatt's leg, and Verity is sorting through the contents of her bag. I settle next to Ansel, our conversation still lingering in my mind. I had my doubts before, but I know now that I can count on my friend. With that protection, I have everything I need to make it to the end of the Games.