73rd - part 2
katniss's pov
I wake up in a hospital bed, screaming for Peeta. In my near-death state, I watch the door for who knows how long before it hits me. He’s not coming in. He’s not going anywhere.
He’s gone.
I don’t feel like a victor. When Haymitch, Effie, Cinna, and Portia come to visit me in the morning, I numbly hug them and nod my head as Haymitch tells me how my ear was repaired. I realized it once he started talking, but I didn’t bother to think about it. It’s not until Haymitch and Effie leave me alone with the stylists that I’m finally able to speak.
“What now?” My voice feels like someone else’s. Unfamiliar. Wrong.
“Your interview,” Cinna says softly.
The prep team enters and gets to work immediately, chattering on about the Games as they manipulate my body back to its former self. I hear the words “full body polish” and glance in the mirror. My scars, stretch marks, and moles are all gone. Instead, a thin, porcelain girl stares back at me. It’s as if my body hasn’t lived more than a day.
Cinna returns with a daffodil yellow dress for me. It’s simple, but pretty. Nothing like the fierce looks he gave me before the games. The difference is so stark that I can’t help but raise an eyebrow at him as I hold the dress at arm’s length.
He doesn’t respond, just kisses my cheek.
I’m whisked away to a dark, barren room underneath the stage, where I’m instructed to stand on a metal plate that will raise me up when it’s time. Feeling like some sort of prop, I glance around the room and spot Haymitch sauntering in.
My mentor, though I guess he’s just another victor now, nods at me and opens his arms. “A hug for luck?”
This is strange. We’ve never hugged, and Haymitch isn’t the type to start now. Regardless, I step into his arms and feel his hands grip my back tightly, trapping me in place. I squirm a bit as he leans into my ear.
“You’re in trouble. The Capitol can’t stand being laughed at, and because of your actions in the Games, they’re the laughing stock of Panem.”
“My actions?”
“The berries. You weren’t supposed to win. Your only hope is to play up the fact that you’re heartbroken and hope they take pity on you. Otherwise you’ll look like a threat,” he breathes harshly, pulling away from me. His hands linger on my shoulders supportively as he smiles. “Better take our places. Enjoy your night, sweetheart.”
I barely have a chance to think about what he’s told me before the metal creaks underneath my feet. As I begin to ascend, I force my face to look heartbroken or at least neutral. How am I supposed to look heartbroken? I’m not even sure what I should say.
Caesar quickly hugs me and directs me to a comfy chair across from his own, then raises his hands several times in a motion to encourage the audience to cheer for me. I feel overexposed, but there’s nothing to do except try to smile at the crowd. Wait, should I be smiling? Should I be crying? Before I can find an answer, Caesar sits down.
“So, Katniss, I think I speak for everyone…all of Panem…when I extend my deepest condolences. Your loss is unimaginable,” he says seriously, carefully measuring every word. “Peeta Mellark will be dearly missed.”
I didn’t expect him to jump right into it, but I guess I’m not surprised. “Thank you,” I say quietly, staring at the floor.
“It was a beautiful thing to watch you fall for him, was it not?” The audience agrees and some are already in tears. Over a boy they never talked to. Over the boy I supposedly loved. I should be crying, but the tears won’t come. “I know for me it felt like everything changed for you when the revision was announced,” Caesar continues and I snap my head up to look at him, “Can you walk us through that moment, if it’s not too much to bear? What went through your mind?”
I consider it for a moment. “I thought…” Honestly, I wasn’t thinking. That’s why I shouted his name in the middle of the arena where anyone could have heard me and killed me for it. “I thought I might be able to keep him.”
It’s the perfect thing to say: I catch Haymitch’s pleased eye, hear a few wails from the audience, and manage what I hope is a painful smile.
“How I wish you could have…,” chokes Caesar. He clears his throat and dabs the corner of his eye before switching gears effortlessly. I recognize the shift and sit up in my chair. “Now, Katniss, I’m sure you’re looking forward to going home. Anything you’re particularly excited for?”
“Seeing my sister,” I say automatically, earning another round of sympathetic sighs from the crowd, “I miss her terribly.”
“I’m sure you do! Tell me, what will the two of you do when you see each other?”
“Well, I’ll hug her.”
There’s some chuckling in the audience.
“And we’ll talk about everything that I missed,” I add, glancing at the camera with a small smile. Am I still supposed to look heartbroken when I’m not talking about Peeta? I turn back to Caesar quickly to be safe.
“Well, that sounds lovely,” beams the tiny man. “And I’m sure she’s excited about moving!”
Right. Victors live in a separate neighborhood, though until now, Haymitch has been the only occupant. I wonder if they’ve already made my mom and Prim move or if they’ll wait for me. I don’t love the idea of leaving our old house, but it’s not like I have a choice anyways.
“I’m sure,” I echo Caesar. I accidentally look at Haymitch again. “Except I’m not sure she’ll love being neighbors with Haymitch.”
Caesar laughs loudly. “Who would?” The camera pans to Haymitch, who rolls his eyes and waves at the camera, then back to Caesar as he makes a face and apologizes jovially. I try to laugh, still unsure if I should or not.
After a few more questions about returning home, and a tougher moment where I have to talk about returning without Peeta, Caesar closes down the interview and reminds everyone to tune into the Victory Tour in a few months. Like they have any choice. Effie materializes as soon as the cameras power down and leads me to the train at breakneck speed.
I still don’t feel like I’m actually going home. It doesn’t hit me until we’re on the train, speeding through the country, and I realize that this nightmare is really over. I’m going back to Prim. To Gale. To District 12.
“We need to talk,” says Haymitch gruffly. I follow him into my compartment, where he sits in the windowsill and motions for me to shut the door.
Before he can get the first word, I demand, “What did you mean when you said I wasn’t supposed to win?”
“This thing’s rigged, sweetheart. Always has been. Think about it: the Gamemakers can kill off whoever they want to in a matter of seconds, so if they wanna take someone out, it’s easy to make it look unintentional. And in my humble opinion, they tried to kill you at least twice,” he spits angrily, his hair shaking around his face.
I think back to the fire. How it targeted me, pushed me toward the Careers. I could have been killed by either of those threats, but I survived. And then there were the mutts, designed to mess with my head and tear me to shreds if possible. Suddenly, I’m starting to believe Haymitch.
“So why did I win?”
Haymitch shrugs. “Accidents happen.”
It hurts, although I know he didn’t mean to. Peeta should have won. Or Cato, but Peeta deserved it. I wish he had won. “And Snow’s angry now?”
“We’ll see. But be on your guard. Don’t make any waves before your tour,” Haymitch grunts, getting to his feet. “Or during it. Or after. Just stay alive.”
He’s gone, pulling the door behind him, and I’m left with nothing but my thoughts.
For some reason, my mind latches onto Gale’s suggestion of escaping to the woods. If Snow is really as angry as Haymitch made it seem, escaping is really my only chance. Gale would come with his family, and Prim. It may have seemed impossible before, but that was before I had this target on my back.
I can’t even enjoy the fact that I’m going home until I step off the train and spot them. Prim on Gale’s back. The only things worth fighting for that I have left.