A Perfect Storm (A Fanfiction for "The Hunger Games")

Chapter 2

        "Thanks Lydia," he directs at the woman, faking appreciation. "But my focus is you two. I need to figure out how to keep both of you alive."

        I meet his gaze, fire beneath my eyes, with the feeling that he picked his words out of cruelty. "One of us."

        Aaryn lifts an eyebrow quizzically and motions for me to continue, pretending not to understand what I mean. "You mean one of us, not both," I repeat. "There's only one winner and you're going to decide who you want that to be." I lean back and cross my arms, my lips tight. "So do it. Just pick instead of dragging it on."

        Our mentor regards me with a new interest and he seems to be pondering something, like someone facing an obstacle they hadn't anticipated. I can't read his expression but curiosity gnaws at me like a hungry animal is living in my soul. With a sigh, he runs a hand through his brown hair and looks up at me again, addressing me this time.

        "Winning is not the same thing as surviving."

        I feel a flame ignite inside of me. When did my life become a puzzle where none of the pieces seem to fit? Follow the rivers. Remember District 13. Winning is not the same as surviving. How many more vague statements am I going to get before it's too late to learn their meaning?

        To my surprise, Mykael speaks for the first time since I came out here. "How the hell is that supposed to help us?"

        Infuriatingly, Aaryn shrugs, but when I look, he's staring at me, as if to say "you should know what it means". "That's for you to figure out."

        And so the pot boiled over. Mykael slams his hands on the table and stands up, his chair screeching like nails on a chalkboard. "Bullshit! You're supposed to help us. I bet you want us to die!"

        Judging from the look on Aaryn's face, one more hit and he will explode. He's a can of gas just waiting to be lit. I can't let Michael be his target. Somehow, I have to steal the show before the spotlight falls on him. 

        "Look Aaryn, I don't know what your past is like, or what horrible things you've done, but can you stop moping over all the kids you killed and start saying something helpful for once?" I fix my gaze on his and make sure that it is pure ice, but what I see makes the shards melt and I feel myself starting to shake as he rises from his chair, slowly towering over me like a skyscraper.

        He leans forward so his face is right in front of mine and my blood freezes in my veins, stopping my heart. "Listen, kid. If you ever say something like that to me again, I promise I will make sure that you never make it out of that arena alive. I will personally see to it that your death is extra gruesome." He puts his head beside mine, his breath tickling my ear as he whispers to me. "You want me to choose who I'm going to help? Well, you can bet that it won't be you."

        By now, I am full out trembling like an earthquake has passed beneath us. Aaryn is still staring me down, but it doesn't last long. With one rough shove, Mykael has pushed Aaryn away from me. When I look at my friend his eyes emit pure hatred, filling the whole room with intensity. No, I think. Don't. Although I know that Aaryn can't physically hurt us before the games, he can make sure that our lives are living hell. He can make sure that neither of us will win and that we will leave the earth in the worst way possible.

        "Don't talk to her like that," Mykael says slowly, a threat beneath his steady tone.

        "Mykael!" I run up to him. "Stop."

        "No, he can't just push us around." Mykael is set with determination and I know that there is only one way to shut him down.

        "You don't need to protect me any more, okay? You can't. This is the Hunger Games. We're done, Mykael. There's only going to be one winner. Maybe you should start thinking about yourself before it's too late."

        I know that my words hit home when I see his face. He looks like I just removed a piece of his soul. I can't meet his eyes to avoid turning into a puddle for Aaryn to step on again. Instead, I turn away and struggle against the tornado in my mind. It's to help him, I remind myself. I have to cut ties with Mykael if he's going to live.

        I almost forget that our mentor is still there until he speaks. "Leave, both of you." His words are spoken quietly, but I know it's not because he's calm or forgiving. Hidden beneath his charming demeanour, he's a viper waiting to strike. Who ever said that silence wasn't deadly?

        Of course, Mykael objects and I wince. "But--" 

        "Leave!" he shouts and springs at Mykael.

        Fearing the outcome if we don't obey, we back out the door and into the hallway. Lydia, who'd been observing the show silently, follows along like a puppy. I turn around to see Aaryn sitting down with his head in his hands. When he lifts his head, I see something in his eyes that I didn't notice before. Disguised by his cruel charm is a definite sadness. In fact, it's more than that. When I look closer, I can tell that it is the look of someone who is constantly tortured by their past.

        What I see is regret.

        For once, I wonder if what I had originally thought of as saving Michael from Aaryn's wrath was really an innocent thing. The more I think, the more I believe that I just opened wounds that had long since healed for the blood to pour out again, fresher than ever.