Chapter 4 Fourth of July, S.S
I couldn't feel my legs.
My dress barely covered me, and my limbs trembled uncontrollably.
My body begged for water. My stomach had long stopped growling with hunger.
Here, in the middle of a crumbling city, I was going to die.
I wished I had died in his arms.
Haymitch... That was my last thought before everything went dark.
xxx
"Who is she? Where did she come from? Is she an ally—or an enemy?"
Unfamiliar voices whispered around me. I drifted in and out of consciousness, always surrounded by strangers, always hooked up to wires.
When I finally managed to stay awake for more than ten minutes, they took me to a white room.
They interrogated me over and over again. Confusing questions. Repeated questions.
What do they want from me?
"My name is Lenore Dove. I'm from District 12. I escaped. A Peacekeeper killed my uncle... but spared me. I can't go back home," I whispered again.
"Who gave you our location?"
"No one. I just... wandered through the woods."
The man stared at me, clearly unconvinced.
"You realize how your story doesn't add up, right?" His voice was sharp. "It's pretty suspicious—two others also showed up recently, claiming they're from District 12. Something doesn't feel right."
I looked down at the table between us. My hands were trembling in my lap. I was scared. Alone. At the mercy of these strangers.
Another man in uniform entered the room, leaned down, and murmured something into my interrogator's ear. The first man nodded, but didn't take his piercing gaze off me.
"You're released. Soldier Laurie will explain how things work here."
Soldier Laurie was a stern-looking woman, her face unreadable. She walked with purpose and spoke without emotion as she guided me through the stark, underground corridors.
"You are in District 13 now. You're one of us. And as such, you're expected to behave in an exemplary manner," she said. "You're lucky to be here. Very lucky."
I'll never be one of you, I thought.
As she showed me the main facilities, a familiar voice echoed down the hallway.
"¡Lenore!"
I froze. That voice couldn't be real.
Sid.
I didn't understand. Clerk Carmine had told me he and Willamae were dead.
But the little boy ran straight into my bony arms. I held him tightly, burying my face in his hair.
xxx
The reunion with his mother was more bitter. "Did Haymitch come with you?" she asked, her voice trembling with hope, her eyes watery with despair.
I shook my head. I didn't know if Haymitch was alive, or if the Peacekeepers had killed him along with my uncle.
All I knew was that I had run—without looking back. And I hated myself for it.
Time passed. The leaves fell, and winter chased away any dreams of escape.
They said we were free in District 13. But we were buried in concrete, caged beneath the earth.
Deep within the walls of this place, they hid a fleet of hovercraft and weapons unlike anything I'd ever seen. I stood wide-eyed the first time I saw them.
My partner nudged me. "Stop staring. We've got a schedule."
We're free, they repeated.
But it felt like a different kind of prison.
xxx
I walked toward the dining hall, my eyes scanning the crowd for Sid and Willamae.
Attendance was mandatory for all District 13 residents—President Hensley was about to give a speech.
From what I'd heard, he gave them regularly.
This would be my first time seeing one.
"This year's massacre was bloodier than the last," he began, his voice echoing through the hall. "Forty-eight children were reaped. Only one survived."
My Haymitch.
Images from the Capitol flickered onto the screen above the stage.
"Look at their faces!" Hensley roared. "Look how they feast on our blood!"
The room watched in silence as footage played. Capitol citizens screaming in excitement, laughing, drinking, placing bets on which tribute would die next.
And then—Haymitch.
Locked in a cage.
Force-fed by Capitol hands.
Humiliated in front of millions.
"They degrade us and laugh while we suffer!" Hensley bellowed.
A tear slipped down Willamae's cheek. Her eyes were wide, too shocked to blink.
Sid bit her lip hard, fighting not to cry.
Then another video began to play—Haymitch, back in the districts. Drunk. Stumbling. Slurring his words as a Capitol broadcaster laughed, mocking "the clown from District 12."
"The day will come," Hensley continued, "when the districts will rise—and we will lead them to freedom!"
The people around me cheered. Fists in the air. Applause thundering through the hall.
"Cowards!"
The word ripped from my throat before I even realized it was mine.
The room fell silent. Every eye in the hall turned to me.
"You have an army. You have more weapons than any oppressed district. And still—you hide like rats in the dirt! You betrayed your own people. You're cowards! "
More words poured out of me. Furious. Broken. Screaming as the soldiers grabbed my arms and dragged me away.
Willamae and Sid rushed after me, shouting, begging them to let me go.
But no one could save me now.
xxx
Revolt. Rebellion. Conspiracy. Those were the charges they listed. And there were more.
They threw me into a cold, unlit cell.
But I wouldn't be silenced.
My voice would be heard.
I sang every song my uncles ever taught me, until I was too tired to sing.
When they turned on the blinding lights to keep me from sleeping, I sang again.
They took my food, expecting me to beg.
But I sang until my voice cracked—
and still I sang.
I stood firm.
For him.
I sang for him.
But the beatings came.
First sporadic, then frequent.
Each one more painful than the last.
Then they took my clothes. I lay naked on the freezing floor.
When the tremors wracked my body, I wrapped my arms and hair around myself, pretending they were his.
"I love you like all-fire," he used to whisper.
"I love you like all-fire, too," I would whisper into the wind.
One day, they took that away from me too.
I ran my hands over my bare skull.
He'd never tangle his fingers in my hair again nor would he remove the feathers tangled in it
I curled into myself.
Too tired to sing.
xxx
Plop. Plop.
A drop of water fell, steady as a clock.
At first, I ignored it.
Then it grew louder. Sharper.
Like a hammer to my skull.
I crawled across the cell, feeling in the dark for the source of the sound.
I avoided the center—that's where I left my waste.
Even now, I have some pride.
I pressed my palms to my ears.
"Enough," I begged.
But the dripping didn't stop.
When the lights came on, I couldn't sleep.
Too bright. Too cold.
When they shut them off, the dripping started again.
Always in the dark.
Always just when I thought I'd rest.
In the rare moments I did sleep, he came to me.
In dreams, he held me.
Promised he'd come for me.
And I believed him—because Haymitch always kept his promises.
xxx
A metallic clang echoed through the cell.
I lifted my head.
The door was open.
And there, like something out of a dream—or a hallucination—stood my love.
Immutable.
Beautiful.
With gentle hands, he took me into his arms.
"Haymitch… you came back," I sobbed, reaching for his face.
He looked at me, sadness in his eyes.
"I'm sorry, Lenore Dove," he whispered. "I'm Sid."