Final Reality (THG Fanfic)

Chapter XI

Silently cursing him for ruining my dream with JD, I quickly run down to Cathal’s room as to calm him down so he doesn’t wake Liliana, but I realize he won’t, seeing that everyone was sent home. It’s only us. I brush my own thoughts away when I realize how narcissistic I’m being, and focus on the scared boy. When I burst into his room, the screams have stopped and he’s awake, staring blankly at a wall or something. I cross over to the bathroom to grab a towel and a glass of water for Cathal. Just like the other night, I climb into his bed and he recites the nightmare to me. This time it was about his older stepbrother, Faizal who was trying to kill him, but Lorna interfered and got knifed in the back instead of Cathal. Faizal slit his own throat and Cathal cradled the both of them as the bled to death. What is it with us? We seem to be having more and more dreams of our families.

That was actually the first time I’ve ever dreamed of JD since his funeral, and it ended so suddenly. Of course, I wish Cathal hadn’t been having nightmares; otherwise I could have spent more time with JD – well, at least the illusion of Jordan. But I have to take more care of others than myself; I have to be selfless like my brother. So while I pat down Cathal with the towel and he drinks the water, I sing him that song again. I understand that I’m singing him lies, I mean tomorrow will evidently not be kinder, but it calms him down. Like when we say we’re fine or okay, even though we’re not, it puts the person’s worries at bay. We’ve become so dependent of these lies.

After tossing and turning all night, we eventually find sleep, but it’s not long before Marcial and Halla have to take us away. Cathal and I hug one last time, and I let Marcial lead me to the elevator. I stop him before we enter the elevator. I run back to my room, and snatch the pocket watch from my unmade bed. It doesn’t remind me of home in any way whatsoever, but at least it’s something from the outside world. We shoot off to the roof where a hovercraft waits for us. I step on the ladder and the electric current freezes me in place. When I’m inside, some Capitol person comes up to me with a large syringe. “This is your tracker,” she tells me. She stalks off, the electric current leaving my body, and I am free to roam around the cabin.

I see Marcial arise from a hole in the floor, and I instantly feel the hovercraft rise and blast off. The windows are blackened as we exit the Capitol, and we take our seats in the centre of the cabin. Marcial pushes me to have some food before we get to the launch room, but I only have a piece of toast and some juice as the Games have ruined my appetite. When we arrive at the launch room, Marcial has laid out a bikini and a wetsuit. “Everyone was given the same thing to wear,” he tells me, holding up the wetsuit. “Personally, I don’t think this will do you much protection. The material is really thin, so I think the arena will either be scorching hot, like the tropics or desert, or they’ll just easily freeze you to death.”

I change out of my clothes and slip on the bikini. It’s a dark grey colour and there is padding in places, especially around my breasts. I’m not sure how they advertise it around the Capitol, but I’m pretty sure the Hunger Games is a fight to the death – not a dating show, but I guess it’s good for sponsors or attracting customers on a street corner. Marcial hands me the wetsuit and I realize there’s a thick black belt around the waist. I clasp the pocket watch around my neck so I don’t lose it, and put on the wetsuit. I’m also given a pair of black nylon boots with rubber soles to wear. Marcial helps me secure my hair into a tight bun, and we hear a computerised voice tell us, “Sixty seconds to launch. Tributes please enter your tubes.”

We stare at each other for a moment, and I think I may actually tear up. When Marcial notices that, he pulls my slender body into his arms, and holds on for life. “Thank you,” I whisper to him, “for everything. And give my thanks to Halla, and my love to Liliana.”

“Twenty seconds,” announces the computerised voice.

“I will,” Marcial says as we pull apart. He leads me to the tube and I step inside.