Our Love Could Be Lethal

ACT III: Pretty Little Liar

Octavia's POV

Dressed in a black wool coat that goes to my knees and a matching pillbox hat, I walk into the expansive halls of the President's Hall and as the two-story-high doors close, the sounds of the crowd become muffled. I take a look around at the dreary sight inside. The carpets are lined with a red carpet and the walls are made of an expensive stone that no doubt was made by the hard labour of my district's people. It's something I can't stop seeing these days. My mind makes up stories as to how these items got here. A girl in 8 died because she took too long to make this beautiful red carpet. A boy in 2 was crushed to death carrying that heavy limestone. An older woman in 7's heart gave out when she was carving these pews.

I shake my head and return to scanning the room. Only the Capitol elite are inside, and I have the 'pleasure' of being the only Victor allowed to the 'funeral'. But, of course, his body wasn't there. They would never find him. Well, not all of him at least. Apparently, Snow had the coroner's office finally declare him dead since enough time had passed from the date he went "missing". A small private ceremony would happen here before the empty casket was sent on its way down the street where it would be interred in the mausoleum reserved for public figureheads and a few of the ultra-wealthy families able to pay their way in.

Not wanting to make small talk with anyone, not even Plutarch, I take my seat. So, naturally, Snow has me sitting in the front row, nice and close to the gigantic holo picture of Seneca's face.

I pretend to find great interest in my program, reading over some of the fakest words I've read in my life, and that's saying something considering I used to write some of my own Capitol TV material.

I hear a small 'ahem' and look up to see a woman who is maybe ten years older than me but the modifications to her body make it hard to tell. She takes the seat next to me and copies my crossed legs before holding out her hand for me to shake. "It's good to meet you," she says. "I'm Lucillia Crane." Then, of course, Snow put me in the family section. "I'm Seneca's sister. Well, I was Seneca's sister." I give a small, pretending-to-be-enthused smile and nod and return to my program.

But she just keeps talking. "He was so devoted to his job. Really the hardest worker. He used to be teased at the academy sometimes for being a nerd, but he was just so passionate about the Hunger Games. Couldn't get enough of it. Oh, and he was just so kind—"

"Lucillia, can I tell you something?" I ask her.

She nods, her eyes filled with anticipation. "Oh yes, I'd love to hear some stories of my dear Senny from you."

She puts her hand in my lap for me to hold and I stare deep into her eyes. My face wears a smile that makes it all the way up to my eyes. I pause, waiting for her anticipation to build before speaking very quietly, "Your brother...was an asshole."

Her face instantly drops as she looks around to see if anyone else is reacting to what I said but no one has. Everyone else is too busy. "W-what? I'm sorry, I don't think I heard you right."

"Why the long face? You know Lucillia, you don't look so good. Are you feeling alright?" She tries to pull her hand away, but I hold onto it. She continues to look around with an alarmed look on her face. "No one will believe you if you tell them what I said. I mean, be my guest and try, but no one's going to believe you. You know, people say this to me all the time, but it must be the grief getting to you. Are you sure you aren't hearing things? Seeing things too, maybe?"

"I think I'm just going to read the program until it starts," she tells me with a horrified look on her face.

My fake smile continues as I nod. "Me too."