･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ.
･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ.
The days passed and things almost seemed to go back to normal. For the others, at least. Cecelia went back to fussing over Thalia instead of Odette, who kept her face in a smile and took part in civil conversation. The tragic interview wasn't talked about, and for the time being, Miles wasn't being mentioned. It was almost just like any other year.
Except it wasn't to Odette. Miles was dead and there was nothing she could do. She couldn't even bring herself to talk about it. Instead, while everyone forgot her cousin, she could not stop thinking about him.
She was in the same kind of disturbed frenzy she'd been in after her games. Trying to hold herself together without anyone noticing, trying to figure out the way the earth spun again.
It was more difficult than she remembered; whenever she closed her eyes she saw Miles dying, blood coming from his mouth, blaming her with his eyes as he fell to the ground, the same look forever etched on his face. During the parties, all she heard was people talking about the games that killed him. While the interviewers had stopped prodding her, entitled men waving with money for Thalia hadn't.
In a way, it was a strange relief when Thalia died and the Victors didn't need to beg for money anymore.
With so little to do, Odette's mind was twice as loud. She dreaded going home. Would everyone look at her with pity? Probably, except for Holly. The only family she really had left would hate her. She'd let her son die, after all.
The thought of being that kind of alone was terrifying. Of course, she had the other Victors, but they wouldn't understand her mother. Just like Holly never understood what the games had done to her. She needed both, this couldn't be what left her alone.
She worried. She was beginning to lose her grip on the present, and no one noticed. She wanted them to, but didn't want to talk about it. Odette had worked herself in a trap where any outcome would not make her happy.
Still, Odette was determined to somehow be okay. Or at least convince everyone she was. That's why she was dressed in a white silk top and a purple skirt, standing before a closed door. She knew Cecelia and Neil were in there. Perhaps Lucinda from district six.
When both tributes had been murdered, there was little to do for the mentors. They weren't annoyed to leave and would rather die than attend another Capitol party. At least most felt that way. So they gathered at the only place in the training center where they could drink together.
Odette hesitated. She'd felt particularly low that day, Miles' death had been repeated again on a recap. Not to mention Thalia had died only sixteen hours before. How many hours had Miles been dead? Was he home already? Buried or burned with the Capitol and Hunger Games over him?
She didn't want to be there. She didn't want to be wearing those clothes. She didn't want to see anyone. But she hadn't left their floor since she'd escaped to see Johanna. That was three days ago. She knew when she had to do something.
So she had stepped inside, the conversation pausing only to say hello. Her fellow mentors, both district six and five mentors, Jackie from district eleven, and Johanna and Blight were scattered across a long table.
Lucinda was significantly less drunk than her counterpart, who was slurring a conversation together while people around him tried not to laugh.
She found her place next to Johanna, smiling at the woman. "Fashionably late, huh?"
Odette chuckled, almost instinctively shifting her chair closer to Johanna. "I obviously was busy with the many things I have to do here."
It was surprisingly easy to talk to Johanna despite her mood. It shouldn't have been surprising. With Johanna, everything was easy.
Soon a drink was pushed in her hands and people were loud around her; laughing, talking. The more they drank, the worse it got.
Odette normally didn't mind, but the loud voices echoed in her ears, resembling screeches. Perhaps any other day it wouldn't have bothered her. She was tuning out, back to wading through the small stream when a girl was killed not far below her, her screams echoing as Odette had tried to outrun the killer. Her own screams when the boy had wrapped the rope around her neck and hissed what he was going to do to her. The blood on her hands. Had Miles sounded like that when he died? Had he made a parting sound that would haunt someone forever?
Suddenly there was a warmth, a strong tug. Her feet worked again, snapping to the ground to brace herself. She wasn't falling though. "Odette,"
She turned her head and saw Johanna. Familiar with her frown and unbrushed hair. Her hand was on her arm, had almost pulled her off the chair. "I'm fine," obviously a lie, but she brushed her skirt off and pretended to not notice. The noise around them didn't die down. Only Johanna had noticed. "Really, just tired," she assured her when Joanna's hand stayed on her arm, almost squeezing.
Hesitantly, she pulled her arm back, nodding. "Do you want another drink?"
Odette nodded again, and Johanna left the table. She didn't have to, every few minutes someone appeared to tend to their needs. But the table was rowdy and she found herself wishing she hadn't come after all.
Another round of laughter erupted as Johanna returned with their drinks. Odette clutched the glass, focusing on just that. We're they always that loud? Odette didn't remember. Mentally, she was still standing over the boy who tried to kill her and Manila. Except this time, Miles was next to them, dying, blaming her. She might as well have killed him. The difference wasn't big and there was enough blood on her hands anyway.
She was vaguely aware of the string of curses as a loud sound echoed through the room. Louder than their voices had been. More terrible, too. The rational part of Odette's brain knew she was in the Capitol, but it sounded like a cannon. Like the one that announced her a winner, the one that haunted her dreams. The one that declared miles dead.
A splash of liquid landed on her. It took her a moment to register it. Her mind wasn't at the table, wasn't with what was going on around her.
Her light clothes were vividly red. Her skin was covered in the liquid. She gasped, pushing backward. The chair stumbled. There was that damned sound again. Blood was on her, another cannon had gone off. It was like staring at her bloody hands after her first kill.
There were voices around her. Were they going to hurt her too? She forgot how to breathe, forgot she was safer.
Someone grabbed her. They were going to kill her. Would they try to cut her open, too? She couldn't let that happen, she didn't want to die. The weight in her hand came suddenly, as if she just remembered she had a hand and a weapon. Without thinking, she swung in the direction of the person.
"What the fuck!" The yell was sharp, silencing everyone else. It was familiar, too.
There Johanna was, holding a hand to her head. Odette relaxed; of course she was safe. She was with Johanna. Something hit the floor and shattered. When she looked down, she saw glass, blood dripping from her hand.
"What's wrong with you?" Johanna snapped at her, lifting her hand to check her fingers. They were red. Redder than what had been spilled on Odette. That was blood. She had done that.
"Oh," the world tilted, the air was pushed out of her body. "I'm sorry," she whispered, stepping closer. "I'm so sorry, I didn't-"
She struggled over her own words, unable to say what she meant. Her head was fuzzy, she really needed to breathe. The scowl on Joanna's face shifted, but all eyes were on her. The air wouldn't come into her lungs, no matter how hard she tried. She hadn't meant to hurt her. She would never do that, she-
Before anyone could react, she was sprinting out the door. She didn't know where she was going, but there was only one place she could go. She pushed the doors open and was met by the heavy cold of the night. She hadn't realized it was that late. The garden lights had flicked on, the fountain noise was soothing, and despite the lack of insects, Odette could swear she heard a lone cricket.
She clenched her fists as tears rolled over her cheeks and she tried to suck in enough air to make the world make sense again. That night had just been too much. She should have stayed home.
The sting of the cut in her hand startled her. As if she was feeling it for the first time. At least it was grounding. With a shaky breath, she looked down at her hand in the faint light. It was only a shallow cut, the bleeding had stopped already.
Taking a few deep breaths with her eyes closed, Odette tried to return to herself. She couldn't believe what she'd done. It had been an accident, but she had done it with the intention of hurting someone. Protecting herself. She thought she'd never been like that; violent, afraid, desperate. Not anymore. Not since she fought to get her life back.
She wiped over her cheeks as she moved back to the few steps, sitting down. The air was cold enough to give her goosebumps. Her clothes were sticky and the liquid extra cold on her skin, but at least she could breathe, at least there was silence.
Dropping her head in her hands, tears welled up again. She just couldn't believe she'd hurt Johanna. She'd been bleeding quite a bit, too. She didn't want her to be upset with her, that would surely be the last straw.
She heard the footsteps in the hallway and lifted her head, wiping away her tears again, as well as the dried blood now on her cheek. "I don't want to do this right now, Cecelia. We can talk in the morning, I'm fine."
"You really have to work on your lying," her head snapped back at the sound of Joanna's voice. She jumped up, apologies already on the tip of her tongue. At least now she had the words. "It's okay, it happens."
Johanna had stopped her before she'd begun, but that didn't stop Odette. "It doesn't! I hit you in the face with a glass," Johanna moved down the steps, sitting next to the spot where Odette had been moments ago. "I didn't mean to hit you, really. I'm so sorry, the last thing I ever want to do is hurt you."
Odette looked away, leaning back against the wall and bringing her hands to her face. "I know that," there was a tinge of annoyance in Johanna's voice, but she reached for Odette's hand anyway. "There's not an evil bone in your body."
She'd thought so too. She was so busy trying to be warm and kind to everyone she thought that was who she was. "Apparently there is," she was frustrated with herself. She didn't want to be like this, didn't want to resort to violence just because she once had to. "I don't know what's wrong with me."
Johanna's grip tightened on her hand before she pulled Odette down. She complied, sitting down on the narrow stair. Their thighs were touching and Johanna intertwined their fingers. At least she didn't seem to hate her. "Nothing's wrong with you," she was almost gentle. "It's their fault."
A humorless laugh escaped Odette as she finally met Johanna's eyes. "I know you love to, but you can't blame everything on the Capitol."
"They put you in their stupid games, they made you fight to survive. They're the reason that happened. Whatever it was." Her grip on her hand tightened, and despite everything, the corners of Odette's mouth quirked up for just a moment.
"I still did it. I murdered two people. It made me like this."
"It made you a survivor," Johanna said. "It's their fault you had to become one."
But what does it mean to be a survivor? Maybe it was just another word for monster.
Odette looked down at her hands. At their hands. Johanna's hand was pale in her own. Scarred and rough from the work she does in her district. There was still dried blood on her other hand. She closed it, the cut moving uncomfortably, flakes of dried blood falling to the ground.
"Has someone looked at your cut?" Odette turned back to Johanna and away from a difficult conversation. At least this was something she knew, something that came naturally. Caring.
"It's fine," Johanna said, leaning against the door frame. Odette was aware that the weight in her hand had not changed. A warm sort of comfort filled her. "You're not as strong as you think."
Odette smiled but moved closer anyway. Shifting until she was on one knee to inspect the cut. It didn't look deep, but it couldn't be good to just leave it. "Let's at least disinfect it," the light was dim, she reached out to touch the skin around it. Hopefully, there was no glass still stuck in it. "It's no problem, I have to look at my hand anyway."
"No," Johanna swatted her hand away, lips curling in something between a smile and a grin. "Nothing I can't handle."
Odette rolled her eyes, sitting back down. "I know that, but it can get infected. There might be glass in it still."
"A cool story to tell, a vicious woman smashed my head in, left a nasty scar."
Odette shoved Johanna. "Come on, it would make me feel better."
"You just want to hurt me again,"
"Johanna!" Odette laughed this time, leaning against Johanna without thinking about it. "You make me feel awful."
Johanna chuckled along, her weight comfortable against Odette. "Can't have that," she said. "Fine, let's play doctor."
Odette snorted, freeing her hand to run both hands over her face. "You're unbelievable."
"What?" The woman stood, offering a hand to Odette. "Sounds fun, doesn't it?"
Still with a smile on her face, she allowed Johanna to help her up. "You're ridiculous,"
･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ.
(a/n): i was like 'ill update once a week dw' now I'm just like updating twice a week or not at all