This Isn't Me ↠ Sequel to INWYTIA ↠ Team Crafted and Hunger Games Fanfiction

Chapter 5: Secret Mister

No one tried to talk to me as I walked down the halls toward my training room. Few people ever did. Even the attendants were scared of me (as they should be). I respected that. Some officials from higher position whom had worked with me before gave me a nod of the head as I passed (which I returned) but avoxes and mere servers just pressed themselves against the opposite wall. 

My training room was large but not grand or extravagant. I prefered it that way. Everything was organized. Archery in one area, throwing knives in another, hand to hand combat, guns, everything I needed in its own little section. Not many people had access to this area. Usually it was just me and the occasional attendee in here. On rare occasions, war officials came in to watch me train and ask me questions. Usually about what I thought concerning war strategies.

All of these thoughts filled my mind as I strolled into the spear section. My eyes lingered on a small, dainty, narrow one. The etched patterns on the shaft looked familiar though I couldn't place the design. But the moment my fingers brushed it, images flooded my mind.

"Thalia's right. We have to help her."

"Why? What has she ever done for us?"

For a mere a second, I was back in the training room. I knew those voices. I'd heard them in my mind several times before. Jerome and Mitch. Thalia was with them. I knew this memory.

"I haven't done anything for you." My voice was crackly. "If you killed me right now, you'd be doing me a favor. But I promised, I promised I'd stay alive....for her."

"We can trust her. She wouldn't try to kill us anyway, she's too weak right now." Jerome argued.

"Weak." An understatement. "I'm not weak, I'm broken."

I was back in the training center. The spear had clattered onto the ground.

I felt strong arms pick me up and carry me bridal style.

Get up Snow. Kick the crap out of him. Stab him. Stab all of them. Run before they can hurt you. Run before you can fall for him.

"Everything's going to be okay Snow. You'll be okay." 

Lies. He's a liar. You'll never be okay if you don't realize that you need to stab the hell out of him. 

Oh how I wish I could change my past.

Tears were running down my face.

Jerome slowly reached up and gently wiped away a few of my tears. I didn't fight it. I was too...broken.

"It'll be okay. Trust me." He murmured softly.

No. NO. You can't trust him. You can never trust him. Don't trust any of them. Leave them all to die. Do what's right. 

I've collapsed onto the ground next. The ground is cold underneath my exposed fingertips. The feeling of Jerome's skin pressed against mine is disappearing. The scent of pine is disappearing. Metallic tastes fill my mouth. The memory is leaving me. It's leaving me the way he left me. 

Wounded.

Damaged.

Broken.

"It won't ever be okay. Never." I said to myself.

The only smart thing I said in that memory.

"Snow." 

It's not Jerome's voice. This voice is deeper but less stable. Almost as if it's someone who hasn't spoken in years and is finally trying out their new voice.