Chapter Text
I'm running with all the strength I have left but it doesn't seem to be enough. I can feel him getting closer. This damn snow doesn't help, it just keeps getting thicker, obstructing my vision and slowing me down.
I don't know where he is, I'm just running, preparing myself for the inevitable blade to pierce my body. I never thought I would be scared of dying. I always thought of it as part of living, as a natural end, but there's nothing natural about this. This cold isn't natural, it hurts to breathe and every snowflake feels like daggers in my exposed skin. Nothing about this situation is natural. Running for my life, fighting against innocent children not for survival, but just to entertain a bunch of rich imbeciles.
Is my family watching me right now? I hope they are not. I hope the last image they have of me isn't like this, stabbed to death in the middle of a snowstorm, crying for my life. Hopefully they'll remember me as I've always been: brave and strong. I miss them. I miss Pugsley's hug and the disgusting love promises my parents made to each other. I want to be back home.
The tears rolling down my face are the only warmth I've felt in what feels like ages. I can't really enjoy it, though. He's getting closer, I can feel it. I can feel my heart beating, my whole body pulsating with it. Fear creeps up every fiber of my being as a shadow suddenly appears at my right.
Time slows down.
I don't want to die.
I don't want to die!
I DON'T WANT TO DIE!
The last thing I feel before waking up is a blade making contact with the right side of my abdomen and as I fight to breathe the scar seems to come back to life, burning like never before. I feel it just like I felt it back then, I feel the blade cut my side, I can even feel the blood dripping down my body. I can feel everything all over again.
I don't scream this time, though. I just try to breathe and remind myself that I'm safe, that I won. I killed him. He was not the first person I killed, though. My bombs got another 6 tributes before him.
Tributes? No, no tributes. People.
No, not people either. Children, fucking children. Just like me, just like Pugsley. We were just kids.
A knock on my door takes me out of my growing anger. I'm not able to speak right away and the person behind the door has to knock two more times for me to finally be able to get some words out my mouth.
"Hey" my brother shyly pokes his head "uhm... I had a nightmare."
He's been pretending for the past two months. Every time I wake up from a memory of the games, he comes over with the same pretext. His sad puppy eyes and pout make me angry at first, I don't need his pity, but then I remember he almost lost his sister too.
"What about?" is the only thing I can reply without making my shortness of breath obvious. I try to keep my emotions at bay and sound as cold as ever.
"About your Games" he replies. It's always the same pretend nightmare, but something about his tone makes feel like maybe it's not all pretend. He hasn't dared set foot inside my room yet. Not without my permission.
"They are over, I won" I say as I roll over "now go back to your room."
He doesn't say another word, maybe getting the hint that I want to be left alone, specially on a day like this. Another year of watching innocent kids get all dolled up to die in front of a camera for the Capitol's citizens.
I watch the clock on my nightstand and realize it's only 4:45 AM, still too early for my morning routine of hating everyone's existence, but the memory of snow makes it impossible for me to stay one more second in this bed.
It's not the first time this happens. Of course it's not. It's actually part of my everyday routine: sleeping an hour a day, waking up from snow-filled nightmares and walking aimlessly around the district just to clear my mind of the memories that seem to hunt me every second.
Being the masochist that I am, I go straight to the Justice Building to see the preparations for today's Reaping. I regret wearing all-black clothes the moment the sun appears, but I still refuse to go back to the useless mansion I got as a "reward" for winning the Games. A mansion that could easily fit at least three other families but instead of helping the poor it's just a reminder of what I did to obtain it.
"Excuse me" says a way-too-friendly voice to my right and I stare at the blonde girl without giving a response. She seems to understand I'm waiting for her to say something so she clears her throat and says "Can I sit here?"
"No" I say quickly and go back to my misery, hoping she would go away. There are plenty of other places she can sit if she wants to. I just want to enjoy my suffering in peace.
To my surprise she just smiles and sits beside me anyways, too close for my liking "Well, I don't care" she says in the same overly-friendly voice. I'm so surprised by the bravery of this girl that the only thing I can do is stare at her with a frown.
"Do you wish for a slow death?" I say in a low voice, still staring at the girl who seems to ignore every instinct that might tell her to go away before I...
I feel the snow fall on my back as I stare at the corpse under me.
I close my eyes trying to keep those memories far away from me. Before the Hunger Games I could threaten anyone without feeling guilt, without remembering that I'm perfectly capable of going through with those promises, that I already killed innocent people.
"Are you talking about today's Reaping?" she answers nonchalantly, clearly clueless to my internal self-hatred or deciding to ignore it for an unknown reason "No, hopefully I wont suffer a slow death soon."
I'm not sure if this girl is incredibly brave or incredibly stupid. Does she know who is she talking to? Does she know I made other people suffer a slow death in front of the whole nation? But then I recognize her. She's the new girl from District 7.
So she really doesn't know who I am.
"Are you nervous?" she asks, finally loosing the friendly tone and showing the anxiousness behind those blue eyes. But I don't have time for this, for comforting strangers and making empty promises. So I just walk away.
I can feel her eyes on me, but I couldn't care less. She's not my problem. The only thing I should be focusing on is getting through this year's Hunger Games as sane as possible... well... as sane as an Addams can be. If she wants comfort she should go to her mother, I have my own problems to worry about.
On my way home I can only hope for Pugsley to be safe this year too. He's way too innocent for this blood-bath. The Capitol can tear me apart if they want, I don't have anything else they don't already own, my life, my house, my safety, but my brother... he's still just a kid. I can´t watch him die.
It's just 7 AM by the time I get back to the Victor's Village. Still so early and I already had at least two mental break-downs. I swear, some day the Capitol is going to pay for what they've done to me. To hundreds of people before me. But someday isn't today and it's not tomorrow either.
I've been hoping for some day to arrive for four years but, at this point, I'm starting to loose hope. Maybe this is just the way it is, maybe this is what I have to live with, maybe this is just what I get for what I did.
Maybe I deserve all of this.