･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ.
･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ.
Time passed faster now that Odette had something to focus on. But the more time passed, the warmer it got, the more she thought about the quarter quell. It was a little over a week away, and any other thoughts had been pushed from her brain. Well, not entirely, but everything was themed around her coming doom. She wrote notes to her mother for when Odette wasn't there to remind her anymore, she wrote her deepest and most personal thoughts and added them to the ever growing stack of letters with Johanna's name on them. She made arrangements with everyone she cared about her mother. In the evening, she was so tired, but couldn't stop thinking about the quell and remained awake for hours.
What would the arena look like? What terrors would be hidden there? Who'd be in there with her? Each thought was more terrible than the one before it, and the one certainty was the most terrifying of them all. Johanna Mason would undoubtedly be in there.
She feared for her like she did for her own life. Perhaps more. Certainly differently. When she thought about Johanna being back in an arena where every step meant possible death, Odette didn't know if she'd rather watch it or be besides her. She knew she'd be little help, but at least she could do something. Anything. Stay up at night just so that she could sleep, be a friend in there, calm her at least a little bit.
It was wishful thinking, of course, because if she did, she would die. She would die, and she'd never get to hold Johanna again, or talk to her, or...
She physically shook her head before she could spiral into thoughts she had no control over. She sat up in her bed, it was dark outside, the moon almost full and especially bright that night. Maybe she'd be able to sleep better with the curtains closed, but the gentle breeze through the open window was soothing and grounding. She was still at home, and she was still okay.
Lately, the urge to call Johanna had only increased. This time, it didn't feel like a burden to bear. Johanna seemed to be making an effort. After she'd called her, Odette hadn't dared to be hopeful, but when a week later she called, Johanna answered. She answered the time after that. And the next time, too. It felt like a dream. A strange dream Odette had on rare good nights, and after she couldn't stop smiling.
It was late, and she definitely shouldn't, but all Odette wanted was to hear her voice. Was Johanna as anxious as her? As scared? She couldn't imagine her being afraid. Johanna wasn't afraid of anything no matter how often she cried in her sleep. Johanna always said what she wanted to say and didn't take any words back, because at one point, she'd meant them. It was admirable, and it was what Odette needed.
The house was quiet. The streets were quiet. The stairs didn't even creak as she walked on them. She didn't turn the lights on, the darkness somehow felt protective, as if it made her desire a little less dangerous and a serious.
The ringing in her ear felt too loud, as if it vibrated through the entire house. It made her aware of how cold the floor was under her toes. It was stupid, anyway. It was late, probably past midnight, Johanna should be asleep. But victors weren't known for good sleeping schedules.
Odette was still surprised when Johanna picked up the phone, just like she was every other time. It was an improvement from the disappointment that used to sit deep between her bones. "Calling me up now, are we?"
Relief flooded through her body when she heard her voice. This had been all she wanted, but now that she had it, she wanted more. She doubted she'd ever stop wanting more. "Sorry about that."
There was a brief pause. Odette didn't know what to say, what excuse was there for calling this late? "Couldn't sleep?" It was Johanna who broke the silence and she hummed in response, beginning to curve into the wall, letting it support her as she focused on the woman at the other end of the line. "Me neither."
"Are you scared?" It felt silly to ask, because who wouldn't be afraid? Then she remembered that if anyone was unafraid, it would be Johanna. Maybe it would be comforting to hear her say she wasn't, or perhaps that would just make it worse.
"Yeah," apparently, the darkness made people more willing to share secrets. "Are you?"
Odette wanted to laugh. Of course she was, she'd never not been afraid, and usually it was unbearable, but now she wasn't alone. "Very," she admitted, and yet she had the urge to smile. they could have had this for years. Gentle words over the phone when they couldn't sleep, talking about anything and getting to know her. Who'd have thought that Johanna Mason was afraid of something? Odette didn't, and it felt like time she'd been robbed of. With death nearing them, Odette found she did not regret the past, but the chance at a future. A future they might have had, had things been different. Still, it was easier to cling that the what if's. "Why did you never call me back?"
The question felt like a confession she wasn't ready to make. Johanna sighed softly in a bracing way Odette had never heard before. How many other things Johanna did had she never heard before? There was so little time left. "I don't know."
"No," Odette said softly. "You do, and we have so little time left. Please, let's not waste it by not saying things."
After a short silence that Odette decided o call surprised, Johanna chuckled. "I like this new Odette," she placed her free hand against the wall, suddenly uncertain if she really wanted to hear it. What if every fear she'd ever had turned out to be true? Johanna had a power over her that she could not explain and despised at moments like those. "I guess I always ruin good things."
"Ruin me, then," it came out before she could stop it, and her hand turned into a fist. Johanna had always had that power. She probably would until the day Odette stopped breathing. It wasn't something she feared, it had seemed inevitable since the night Johanna had first comforted her.
"I don't want to," it was possibly one of the softest things Johanna had ever admitted to her. It pushed the breath out o her lungs, and for a moment she forgot how to breathe.
"Oh," Odette breathed out, glad that she kept the lights off, because her face was hot, and even though there was no one to see it, that was a secret just for her. Johanna chuckled on the other end, and the last thing on Odette's mind was the quell. She was shaking because of a confession that wasn't a confession and how they were both just breathing, not talking. It felt nice. Odette would never need anything again if she could just keep living in that moment.
"Can you forgive me?" Johanna finally said, and despite her teasing tone, Odette suspected she needed a true answer.
"Of course," she had as soon as she heard her voice again. every hurt was forgotten, every missing moment didn't matter anymore, because Johanna was there, if only for a moment, if only too late. Odette would take anything, because nothing was better than Johanna. "The moment I heard your voice, you're forgiven. It's always been like that, and it will always be like that."
***
The air in the bathroom felt too thick, even with the door open behind them. The steam and heat of both their baths seemed to cling to the walls. Odette was glad she hadn't put on her clothes yet, the room and nerves making her body sweaty already.
"Why are we doing this again?" Freya asked, letting Odette pin her hair up. She smelled like the expensive soap they'd been buying since Odette won. She had meant to use it herself, but she'd opted for what smelled like home.
"It's reaping day," Odette spoke softly, adding another pin to her hair. More grey hairs had appeared over the weeks, but aside from the deep frown lines her mother carried at the moment, she still looked like she had the day Odette got reaped for the first time. "You have to come, I'm in the bowl again."
Her mother opened and closed her mouth, falling back into thought while Odette finished her hair. "Again?"
Odette stepped back to look at her work. "Yeah, I've told you, but don't worry about it," She tried to keep her tone light. When her mom was 'foggy', it wasn't difficult to fool her. Would she miss her, when she was gone? Would Freya eventually forget Odette had ever existed? "The dress is on your bed, go put it on."
Her mother left, and Odette took a deep breath, only realizing how tightly she was clutching the hairbrush in her hand when she saw her white knuckles. She released it, running her hands over her face and down her hair. In less than an hour, she would be on the stage, waiting for Rory to decide her fate.
She picked up the hair brush again, running it through her hair. It wasn't entirely dry yet. She watched it hang over her shoulders, a little bit more straight than it was when dry. She'd never liked the way she looked with her hair down. Not when that was what the Capitol liked to see. She turned away from the mirror, ignoring the little scabs that were still on her cheek.
Back in her room, she put on a light colored dress with straps instead of sleeves. She placed her golden butterfly clip on one of the straps before taking a last, deep breath. She couldn't look nervous or scared, just like she couldn't during her first games. She liked to think now she was better at it.
"Mom," she called as she moved down the stairs. "Are you ready? We have to go." She ignored the shake in her hands, instead gathering the few glasses and cups that were scattered over the different surfaces and bringing them into the kitchen. She didn't want to think about who would do that when she wasn't around anymore.
"Coming!" Odette placed the last cup in the sink before her mom's steps sounded down the stairs.
Her mother hadn't put on the blue dress Odette had picked, and instead wore a red dress that was too bright for the occasion, but Odette didn't care. What did it matter, anyway? "You look great," Odette said instead, joining her in the little hallway. "I love you, mom."
Freya smiled at her, and Odette opened the door, pretending to be ready to face what lay outside.
***
It felt strange, to stand on the stage again. she stood there every year, hidden in the shadows of the roof, watching scared children move forward. She thought she remembered how it felt to hear her name called. She certainly remembered being so afraid she wanted to cry, while knowing she couldn't. She remembered the tight feeling in her chest, the short and shallow breaths that made the earth spin by the time she'd climbed the last step.
It had been something she thought she could never forget, but now that Rory called her name for a second time, it didn't feel like that at all. She felt the warmth draining from her face, but while her stomach dropped, there was a strange sense of relief that accompanied the shifting of her world. Beside her, Cecelia gasped, grabbing her arm. "No," she said softly, and Odette didn't dare to look at her. "Odette."
"Don't," she answered, walking towards the escort as if Cecelia wasn't gripping her arm, as if Odette wasn't going to relive her worst nightmares. She focused on just the next step. The creak of wood under her feet, the silence of the crowd, the warmth of the sun despite the few clouds and the breeze Odette couldn't feel anymore.
He moved on to the men, Odette didn't listen to him talking, instead focused above the crowd, trying to take deep breaths. She would never see district eight again, and despite its ugliness, Odette already missed it.
She must have zoned out, because suddenly Woof was standing beside her, offering her his hand with an attempt at a casual grin. It was only then that it felt real. Not only would she be going back in, her friend would, too. Tears she'd promised not to shed burned her eyes, the ache in her head from holding them in immediate. She shook his hand. "There we have it!" Rory chirped, clapping once. "The tributes of the seventy-fifth hunger games!"
The peacekeepers moved forwards, letting them in the justice building. Woof was walking close to her, it was the only thing that forced her feet to work. She really was going back into the arena. Odette's hands were beginning to shake.
Once they were inside, the peacekeepers took hold of their arms. "Hey, man, we can walk," Woof said, trying to pull his arm free. Odette frowned, looking back.
"Where are we going?" She asked when they kept walking past all the rooms. Any courage she'd built the last few weeks had left her. She felt smaller than she ever had. "I need to say goodbye. We should-"
The peacekeeper pulled her closer to his body, holding her tighter. "That's a privilege you lost a while back, miss Byrne."
They were being brought to the train station. She hadn't said goodbye to her aunt before coming, not even really to her mother. She wanted to scream, because there was no way she would ever see them again. She was going to die and her mother would forget her and her aunt was going to be all alone and-
"Odette," Woof said as the back doors were opened for them. A car was waiting, Rory standing before it. "It's going to be okay, just a little bit longer, you can do that."
She looked at him, his face kind and sad, and she nodded. She could do that. The peacekeepers shoved them in the direction of the car, and Odette smoothened her hair as she walked closer, ignoring the unsteady feel of her legs. "I never thought I'd escort you two again," Rory opened the door for them. "It's a trip down memory lane."
The door closed behind them and Rory took the front seat. He kept talking, but Odette didn't listen. She watched district eight vanish behind her, with it her family. At least she'd see Neil and Cecelia again, they'd be with her until the very end. At least she didn't have to see Cecelia walk into her death.
The ride didn't take long, and soon they were on the train. Cecelia and Neil were already standing around the table, looking as if they'd been reaped themselves. Cecelia ran for them as soon as they entered while Neil poured them all drinks.
"I'm so sorry," she said, hugging Odette and Woof at the same time. "This sucks."
Desîte the situation, Odette had to chuckle at that. It sounded almost like a sob, but she was determined to not let any tears slip. This would be hard enough without it. "That's an understatement."
They let go, and a drink was pushed in her hands. Gratefully, she drank it at once. She couldn't believe she was actually going back into the games. With Woof, of all people. She wondered who else was going to be in there with her. How many friends would she lose? What would she do if they tried to kill her? She couldn't kill any of them, if she had to-
"I think I need a moment," she placed the glass on the first surface she saw, a glass table holding nothing but an ugly lamp. "I'm going to my room for a bit."
She hadn't even thought about hurting people again. she couldn't hurt them, she knew them, liked most of them. Was she capable of hurting anyone while she was already supposed to be dead? It wouldn't be fair, especially not since she wouldn't survive either way.
And then there was Johanna. She'd be in there with Johanna Mason. Johanna of all people. She supposed it wasn't the worst thing, she could help her, make sure she survived. She could make her death meaningful, and take advantage of her last few days.
Odette sat down on the bed, taking a steading breath. Then another. She couldn't do this, but she would. She'd do whatever lay within her power to... her thoughts didn't make sense anymore. What was she going to do? Sacrifice herself? Figure out some smart plan? There was nothing to do, she had no control over anything, and while she should be used to that by now, it still terrified her.
･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ.