I do not own Hunger Games or any of its characters.
Dangerous Association
Screams and sobs split the air, continuing uninterrupted for nearly an hour before finally cutting off. In a cabin deep in the woods, in a section that was newly out of bounds of the logging industry, Trever gasped and panted for breath for several long minutes before wiping the sweat from his forehead. He sighed, starting a pot of coffee before heading to his bathroom and taking a cold shower. Once he was done, he pulled on a pair of underwear and some pants, then poured himself a cup of coffee and walked outside. He sat on the deck of his porch, his mind swirling with his "nightmares," his memories, for a long while before they finally quieted themselves as the forest began to come alive with the sounds of nature. Birds, squirrels, chipmunks, insects, the wind rustling the leaves. He liked this place. It was peaceful, quiet, and isolated. There was no one around for him to hurt the way he'd hurt his family. Or, at least, there wasn't supposed to be. He turned his head slightly as footsteps approached his cabin. It wasn't the Peacekeepers. Their steps were more solid, as close to stomping as walking. These were light. Hesitant. Careful. Not meant to sneak up on him, but meant to avoid provoking him.
"You shouldn't be here," Trever intoned evenly as he turned to face the person invading his Capital-approved and protected sanctuary in the woods. "I moved out of the Victors' Village so that I wouldn't be around people, Johanna. Why are you back?"
Before him, a girl about two years younger than him, give or take, stood almost calmly at the edge of the clearing where he'd built his cabin. She'd stumbled across him once before, but she'd left with the promise of never coming back.
"You must be lonely living out here alone," Johanna said. "I would be."
"I chose to live out here alone," Trever said. "You know what I did to my family. What I did to Blight when he came to see what the screaming was about."
"Blight healed," Johanna said. "But...that wasn't you." She began forward slowly. "I know you. You're a kind person, Trever. You love your family more than anything. You write the most amazing stories. And you would never intentionally hurt someone."
"Stop," Trever warned.
"You were always the nicest guy in the district," Johanna continued.
"Johanna, stop fucking moving!" Trever snapped.
Johanna froze, eyes wide.
"You don't get it!" Trever snapped, smashing his coffee cup on the ground. "I'm not that person anymore, Johanna! I'm a monster! You're right, I loved my family. I didn't kill them because I wanted to. In fact, I didn't even realize I had killed them at all until I had dragged their bodies over and set them up like we were having dinner like it was a fucking child's tea party! I'm a murderer, Johanna! When my impulses say to kill someone, I do it without even knowing it! You can't be here, because if you spend time around me, I'll kill you too!"
"No, you won't!" Johanna said confidently, stepping forward.
There was a loud snap and a rope made from strands of long grass streaked away from her, Johanna's eyes going wide.
"Lay down," Trever sighed.
Johanna slammed to the ground in under a second, and a moment later, a long, straight, sharpened stick, a homemade spear, flashed over her, shattering against a tree off to the side. Johanna sighed in relief just as Trever stepped up over her.
"I told you to stop moving," Trever pointed out.
"Sorry," Johanna grimaced. "I didn't realize that was why."
For a moment, Trever watched her in silence. Then, he extended his hand toward her, offering to help her up. Johanna glanced at his other hand, finding it was empty, then accepted his help. However, as soon as she was up, his hands closed around her throat, his eyes suddenly devoid of life.
"Tr...Trev...hurts!" Johanna managed to choke out.
Trever showed no reaction, so Johanna planted her foot between his legs. He grunted, releasing her and falling to his knees, cradling his sensitive, abused bits and pieces, and wheezed out an apology. Johanna coughed a couple of times before sighing.
"So all it takes to snap you out of it is a good shock, huh?" Johanna asked.
Trever staggered to his feet, heading for his door as he wheezed out, "Leave, Johanna. Before I kill you."
Johanna sighed, turning and walking away.
Trever drew his knife along the stick he was sharpening, ignoring the footsteps. Despite his best efforts, despite several near misses, Johanna had refused to stop visiting him. She was determined. She would visit every few days, stay until her life was in danger, and then she would leave. This time, as she sat down, he passed her a spear and a knife and she began to whittle the stick to a point without a word. After about fifteen minutes, however, as soon as his spear was finished, it swung around at her, aimed for her throat. However, it seemed she'd gotten good at reading him, at predicting his impulses. As his spear swung around at her, her own stick knocked it away before her fist snapped out, connecting with his nose. He yelped in pain, holding his hand to his nose and pinching it closed to stem the bleeding. She passed him a handkerchief and he pressed it to his nose.
"Thank you," he said.
"Show me how to make traps," Johanna said.
"Why?" Trever asked.
Johanna was silent for a second before speaking. "If I get reaped, I have to win, or else...you'll be alone again."
Trever stared at her in silence for a long few moments before sighing and nodding. "Alright. Follow me."
Trever watched as Johanna tied off the spikes on the tree she'd be bending over. She wasn't great at it, but she was improving. He walked over, trying to turn the spike, but she'd secured them tightly this time. It had been about two weeks that he'd been teaching her. Pit traps she'd mastered fairly quickly, though making covers for them she still struggled at, and had learned to tie up swinging logs well. However, as with the trap she was currently working on, she was slow at it. It took Trever about five minutes to set up this trap, and twenty to set up a swinging log. Johanna, however, took fifteen minutes for this trap and nearly an hour for a swinging log. It wasn't terrible, and she was fast enough for it to be effective, but it was still too risky. She needed to improve if she was going to survive as a Hunger Games tribute. And she needed training in combat. He sighed, then looked down at his hand, immediately freezing. He was holding the rope holding the tree back, and Johanna was kneeling in its path, gathering supplies to try again.
"Johanna, move," Trever warned as the rope began to slip through his hand.
Johanna looked up and immediately hurled herself out of the way. Once she was out of the way, Trever released the rope as he stepped out of the tree's range himself, and it swept past, clearing its entire sweep before snapping upright, wiggling for a moment.
"Thank you," Johanna smiled.
"Don't," Trever grunted. "I almost killed you, again."
"But you didn't," Johanna said. "You warned me this time. You stopped yourself."
Trever frowned, then sighed. "Time for you to go home, Johanna."
Johanna nodded, then stepped forward, hugging him. "I'll see you tomorrow."
Trever groaned, but hugged her back anyway, careful not to allow himself to try to hurt her,then watched as she walked away.
Johanna frowned as she knocked on the cabin's door. No answer. She looked up, inspecting everything around herself for traps, but found it clear. She nodded to herself, then grabbed a stick, using it to open the door. Once again, she was almost disappointed by the lack of traps. However, that thought went away as soon as she stepped into the house. Trever was seated against the wall, one hand holding his carving knife and both arms lying in a large pool of blood. There was a slit carved from his elbow to his wrist on both arms, and he was pale. Johanna shrieked in fear, sprinting into the cabin and running to where he kept sewing supplies. She'd watched him get them a dozen times to make repairs to his clothes and to sew camouflage tarps to disguise his traps. She grabbed the needle and thread instantly and a handful of small towels, sprinting back to Trever and pressing the towels to his arms instantly. Trever groaned weakly, then again as she began to quickly sew his arms closed.
It wasn't sanitary. It wasn't effective. It wasn't gentle. Her hands were shaking the entire time, making it rough and haphazard, and resulting in her sticking him repeatedly each time she tried to push the needle through his skin, but it worked well enough. She managed to seal the wounds enough for him to survive, and then she tied the hand towels around his forearms to cover the injuries and keep them as clean as she could. Then, she got a wet cloth, cleaning the blood off of him as much as possible before washing her hands. Then, she lifted his upper body, dragging him into his ground floor bedroom, for when he didn't feel like walking up to the main bedroom in the loft. She wrestled him into bed, then pulled the sheet and blanket up to his armpits, leaving his arms uncovered.
She didn't bother trying to get help. She knew that they wouldn't help him. They didn't care about him. He was too violent. They couldn't have him in front of a camera talking about how honored he was to get rewarded for his part in the games, so they wouldn't care if he died. They might actually kill him themselves. And besides that, it wasn't safe. If he woke up, he might hurt them. She was the least likely to be hurt when he woke up. And so, she stayed. For most of the night. As the sun began to rise, hours after she'd found him, he finally stirred. He groaned, slowly turning his head before his eyes slowly slid open. He stared at her for a long few moments before dropping his gaze to his arms.
"Damnit, Johanna," he croaked. "Why couldn't you just let me die in peace?"
"Why would you do that!?" Johanna snapped.
"Because I'm a monster!" Trever snapped, though his voice was still weak. "I don't want to be alive anymore! I don't won't to hurt anyone! I can't take it anymore! I can't take the nightmares! I can't take the memories! I just want it to stop!"
Johanna hugged him, eyes watering. "It will. It will stop. It'll get better! You just need to give it time!"
Trever sobbed as she held him, and for the first time that he could remember, he didn't need to worry about hurting her. Maybe it was because he was too tired. Maybe he had ruined his arms to the point of never functioning again. But for the first time since he'd broken in that game, someone around him was safe.
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