The Hunger Games: The Violent Hour

:The Hunger Games: The Violent Hour: (7) Replay

Chapter Seven

"Sweetheart, pass me the rolls will you?"

I snap out of my reverie, jumping a little in my seat at the sound of Haymitch's voice. His request registers in my head and I grab the little basket of rolls to my left and hand them to him.

"So, how are we going to train?" asks Iris with a reproaching look. This was our first morning on the train, and we will be at the Capitol later today. Maybe we are close now, I don't know. And I don't care to ask.

"Well we have to figure out what you can do," says Haymitch. Peeta and I give him a stern look, to which he responds with a careless shrug. "What? I helped you two didn't I?"

"You mean before or after you were so drunk that you could barely walk?" asks Peeta bitterly.

"After," Haymitch answers simply, unfazed by Peeta's remark. He got a bit of a roll and popped it in his mouth, smiling at Peeta and me.

"Iris, I already know you are handy with a bow and arrow. What about you, Rye?" I ask.

"I don't know," Rye admits, casting down his eyes.

"He looks like he could be a soft treader. But his tallness won't help," says Haymitch.

"Unlike his father," Peeta says, and looks at me with that bright liveliness, remembering our times together in our first Games. I didn't realize we are holding hands until he gently squeezed mine; pulsing reassurance through my blood.

"So how would that help him?" asks Iris.

"The harder you are to detect, the harder it is for them to kill you," responds Haymitch.

"Oh, I guess that makes sense," Iris mumbled, trying to mask her fear.

"Iris has a very keen nose," I burst out, looking around our table.

"Oh, is that so?" asks Peeta.

I nod, and mumble a confirmation. Iris suddenly drops her fork, causing her breakfast to splatter everywhere. She doesn't seem bother by it though. "Speaking of keen, where's Effie?" she asks.

A silence of realization spreads throughout our table and suddenly we are all on our feet, going in separate ways by a silent agreement. Haymitch is on his wheelchair, leading the chase. I head through the hallways alone, pulse beating in my temples. My left temple clenches in pain and I slump against the wall, both hands on it, attempting to draw out any object causing my agony.

But there is nothing there. It is all in my head.

Everything is in my head. Maybe this is all a dream? Maybe this is a nightmare. What if... What if I somehow woke up in my cold bed, in District 12? Prim and my mother across from me. Gale still my best friend. Buttercup still hating me.

But it's much too late for that. I know. I've woken from a horrible dream many times, I know somehow it would not be fair for me to be treated like this. I killed thousands of people... Maybe I do deserve it.

But then, if this is all a dream, I never killed anyone. I don't deserve this.

I shake my head softly and rise. No way. This is my punishment. My hearing registers sounds of alarm and I run to them, eyes darting back and forth in case I'd have to defend myself.

"Effie! Someone turn back!"

"Stop this train!"

Peeta and Haymitch were yelling, banging on the Driver's door. Peeta was mad. I haven't seen him like this since... Since he threw Mitchell into the barbed net.