The Victor -Pollux-

Chapter 42

Cold.

The bed was cold, empty.

Carson woke up the moment she realized Pollux was missing. The sheets were cold, a sign he had been gone a while. The sun had risen many hours ago. The room was bright, full of light. Scrambling to the side, her eyes find a note. Scribbled in his near unreadable handwriting were words Pollux written down to explain his absence. He must have known she would be worried. He knew her too well.

Rubbing the sleep from her eyes, she pushed herself out of bed. Everything felt distant, as if she wasn't in control of her body. Carson got dressed, brushed her teeth, combed her hair, and walked out the door. There was a heaviness resting on her shoulders, something weighing her down. It was suffocating. Carson felt like she was back in the crowd outside the gates, unable to breathe as people crushed her.

Then, the images of what happened next flashed in her mind. She could still see Charlie. Her cheeks were dusted from the ash, but her freckles still shined through. She could see the confusion in her eyes as Charlie processed seeing Carson, then the smile and happiness that took over realizing she was still alive.

Carson found some comfort knowing Charlie wasn't scared. Everything happened so fast. It was unlikely Charlie even realized what was happening. The explosion would have killed her in seconds. The flames had consumed her body, leaving nothing but charred remains behind.

Forcing the thoughts away, she entered the dining room. Pollux said in his note he was stopping there to meet Cressida and Plutarch. They were planning the details of Snow's execution. Things couldn't change until he was dead. His death would be televised for people in the Districts to see. That way, they could celebrate their liberation properly.

Pollux had been very dedicated to filming. It was his last connection to Castor and not something he ever wanted to give up. Filming kept Castor's memory alive. At least, that's what Pollux believed. Carson understood. She supported his decision and choices. She always would.

The details of the execution were still unknown, but Carson figured that would change soon.

Upon entering the room, she was met with Cressida. The blonde girl sat at the table, legs thrown over the wood. "Hey," she smirked, hands behind her head. "You're up late. Sleep good?"

The casual conversation didn't take her by surprise. Cressida was a good friend, and she knew Carson needed to be treated normally. "Fine." She shrugged, moving closer. "Mattress is too soft."

"Used to your mattress being stuffed with hay back home?"

There's a hint of a smile on her face. "Something like that." Her eyes search the room a second time. "Where's Pollux?"

"Why? Not happy to see me?" Cressida teased her. "I'm kidding. He said he had to drop something off for you."

"Was it important?" Carson stepped back, prepared to return to her living quarters.

Cressida waved her hand. "I don't think so. But he said that if you came looking for him, you couldn't leave without eating."

She wasn't surprised. "Of course he did." That sounded like Pollux. "Fine." It wasn't worth the argument. Eating something quickly would allow her to leave sooner. Taking the seat beside Cressida, she grabbed a croissant off the table.

They sat together, silent, eating what was left on the table. Most of it had been picked over. Carson assumed the other Victors had already eaten. "Have you seen Katniss?"

"Not yet. Have you?"

"I ran into her in the hallway," she explained. "Seemed distant." That wasn't surprising. "I asked her to come eat, but she said she had to wait for Gale."