The Hunger Games: Power

Chapter 8

I don’t know why I feel so obligated to protect him. Perhaps it’s because we’re district partners and I don’t want to let go of home. Perhaps I want an ally in the arena and he’s obviously my best shot. Or perhaps he’s awakened some caring instincts I didn’t know I had. Whatever the case, I’m in too deep by now to abandon Enapay, and I can’t bring myself to be actually angry at him. He’s just a poor little kid. So while it would maybe be more appropriate to yell at him for being so rude, I just put a hand on my forehead, exasperated, as I speak the one syllable that sounds right: “En…”

His reply- if you can call it that, it doesn’t even seem like he’s talking to me as much as at me- comes quickly. “I am not a freak!” His voice is frantic still. “Not a freak. No, sir, everyone has that wrong. See, I'm not a freak, no!” He seems to realise he’s just saying the same thing over and instead of calming down, it just works his anger up further.

“No,” I agree, moving my hand from my face to his shoulder, “but-”

“It’s me against the world, Arista, nobody understands, but I’m right, I know I am!” He sounds so vulnerable yet so harsh at the same time. His harshness isn’t as intimidating as it is saddening. I can tell how much pain this whole thing is putting him through.

I take a deep breath and I know I have to try and make him feel better- because if I don’t, who will? “I think you might be overreacting…” I half-whisper to him, being as gentle as possible because I don’t want to startle him or anything. I carefully place my other hand on his other shoulder, all but forcing him to look me in the eyes, which he does for a good few seconds. Then he blinks and looks down. When nobody’s said anything for around half a minute, I go to break the silence but he gets there first.

“Sorry...it's just...'freak', weighted word…” His voice sounds normal, calm, for a second. Then the hysterical fear kicks in. He grimaces and stares at me and I can pretty much feel his panic. “I'm so...so scared...” he scarcely manages to force out through his rapid breaths.

I decide that I really can’t do anything apart from try to understand him, so I press further. “Weighted word? Why?”

He grips my arms tightly and stares at the ground, breathing heavily for a few seconds. When this passes, he looks at me. “Why do you think?”

I don’t know what I can say without upsetting him further now. It’s obviously going to be for the best if we just forget about this whole thing. “…Let’s go to the third floor now, yeah?” I say softly, tugging his arm towards the lift a bit.

I swear I hear him say, “Thought as much,” under his breath but I can’t be entirely sure and confronting him probably wouldn’t end well anyway. I feel helpless, not being able to make this better.

I hate that I feel responsible for him. Not that he doesn’t deserve help, but it’s help I’m not sure I can give. This is too hard and circumstances so hard on both of us and I just know how confused and unsure of what to do we both are. For a second I almost want the arena to start early so we can just get it over with, because I don’t know how much more we can take, but I push that thought away. But I’m sort of glad I thought of that, because it’s reminded me of something important- we need to make the absolute most of the time before we’re thrust out to our death, the days we get to spend in the fanciest part of the country. I force myself to cheer up, or at least look cheerier, because I think I heard that looking happy can make you feel happier. I smile at Enapay and he looks taken aback.

When we get to the lift, I realise Posala is standing beside it. “Oh, you two! Going upstairs?”

I nod at her because if I use words she might use words back and her voice is probably the worst sound to ever come out of the mouth of a human being and I want to avoid it as much as I can. I put my arm around Enapay as we walk into the lift and I press the button for floor three. I look at him and smile again, trying to coax him into returning the gesture. It works briefly- he smiles the tiniest little smile back at me, probably just to make me stop, and I laugh softly. When he smiles, it’s pretty cute- not in an “I am attracted to you” way, but in the same way kittens are cute. I’m not sure if I should feel guilty about thinking this way of another human being- comparing my equal to a baby animal- but it’s the truth.