"You need to give them a show." Dahlia heard her voice numbly repeating the words she'd given to so many tributes in the past. But none of them had been her own sister. "That's all they want."
What else could she say? Once again, someone else was bearing the consequences of Dahlia's actions. Her punishment is always carried out through someone else's pain. How many more people does she have to lose before her mind spirals into a dark hole she can never escape from?
"Flower." Alaric sounded so far away, like she was drowning under the waves and his voice was muffled from the surface. "Dahlia." Her eyes stared unseeing in front of her, burning with a crazed fire bubbling within. "Dahlia!" The man's hands gripping her shoulders and shaking her back to reality makes her eyes snap up to him. He's taken aback by the harshness of her gaze, the fury of The Black Dahlia glaring daggers at him, but refuses to be scared of the girl he's raised. "I need you to focus. We will get Lavender out together. But I need you present and sharp."
The last thing Dahlia wants to do is guide her sister through the process that stripped her of everything she was. The Capitol breaks tributes down just so they can build them back up exactly how they want them. They're just little dolls forced into the Capitol's sadistic dress-up game. But if she doesn't do anything, Lavender will die. And she will lose the last person who knew her before she was called The Black Dahlia. As much as she hates it, Dahlia will have to play the game once more.
Reluctantly, she nods at the older Victor and allows her body to relax from its tensed state. Alaric breathes a sigh of relief, still eying her warily. Her sanity is hanging on by a thin thread as it is, and the information he has to share with her will put even more strain on it. "Good... Because there's something you need to see."
•——————•°•✿•°•——————•
"The female tribute from District Four is... Annie Cresta."
Just when things couldn't get any worse for Dahlia, Snow throws another innocent life into the mix. Only one tribute will make it out alive and graduate to a Victor. Dahlia's sister or Cove's sister. Who will rise and who will fall? Maybe they'll both perish. Maybe Dahlia will lose her sister and break a promise to her friend in the same Games. Snow has a wicked mind. He knows how to make the girl suffer.
"What's your plan, Flower?" Alaric asks cautiously after an agonisingly long silence with no visible reaction from Dahlia. He knows he would support her with whatever decision she makes and back her fight no matter the cost.
Dahlia doesn't reply straight away, because the answer isn't an obvious one. It's not as simple as betting on your favourite horse. It's more like picking which animal to send to the slaughter. Only it's not animals, it's real people, and those children will fight to the death instead of a mercifully quick end. She could argue back and forth with herself for hours and hours, but still never be satisfied with her decision. There is no right choice. Snow has her trapped between a rock and a hard place.
The golden dahlia pendant enclosed in her fist reminds her of the promise she made to Cove. The girl who sacrificed a chance with the Career Pack to befriend a mysterious outsider from an irrelevant district. The girl who saved Dahlia's life, only to have her own life cut short. How could she turn her back on Cove's sacrifice?
But then Dahlia glances over her shoulder to where her sister sits further away. The reason she had volunteered all those years ago. The girl she had fought to the bitter end for. The only remnant of a tight-knit family torn apart by the very place she's being sent to. How could she betray her own flesh and blood?
"I--" Dahlia's voice betrays her internal struggle, cracking emotionally as she tries to muster up a reply. "I don't know, Alaric. I just--" Her hands rake through her hair in stress and tug harshly at the strands, needing something to relieve her anger. "I just don't know."
All eyes follow the young mentor as she leaves the train carriage and disappears out of sight. Things had been so hectic after the Reaping Ceremony that Dahlia had barely taken a moment for herself. In the safety of her own compartment, away from the desperate stares of her two tributes and sympathetic gaze of Alaric, she found herself in front of the floor-length mirror.
The black dress still adorned her body, a fitting match for the mournful expression on her face. She wouldn't look out of place at a funeral. Maybe Lavender had been right about the dress. Nothing good had ever come out of wearing it. Bad luck followed wherever it went, like it sucked the light out of everything it touched. She couldn't stand to look at it anymore.
Bottom lip quivering and eyes full of tears that would never be shed, Dahlia practically ripped the garment off. Piercing screams left her throat as she angrily shreds the material until all that's left of it is strips of black fabric. Eventually, collapsed amongst the ruins of her mother's dress, Dahlia curled her knees into her chest. Her naked body was littered with bruises and scars, wounds from battles that weren't fought in the arena. They were just another reminder that everything she'd done to protect her family only ended up hurting them in the long run. Maybe the dress wasn't the problem... Maybe it was her all along.
•——————•°•✿•°•——————•
Lying awake in her bed, Dahlia's mind was still abuzz with debate over what she should do. Two innocent girls were being sent into the Games because of her, the least she could do is try and get one of them out. The only question was, which one? The bickering voices in her head were too loud, the only certainty for Dahlia was that sleep would be impossible tonight.
Though her back was facing the door, she had learned never to let her guard down (a habit she'd picked up after her stint in the arena). So when the door opened and someone snuck in, Dahlia heard every sound. Every squeak of the door hinge, every hushed breath, every creeping step. Once the intruder was close enough, Dahlia whipped round faster than ever and pinned them to the bed.
"Lavender." She heaves out a sigh, quickly releasing her shocked sister from her tight grip. "You shouldn't sneak up on me like that."
"Now you tell me." Lavender bites back snarkily, sitting up to face Dahlia as she tries to calm her racing heart. "What did you think I would do? Kill you?" She chuckles naively at what she thinks is a simple joke, but Dahlia doesn't join in. The threat still exists in the dark of her mind. Her brain never quite managed to rid itself of her fight or flight instincts after the games. Lavender's laughter subsides at the girl's silence, all humour now drained from her face. "You're serious?"
"You can take the Victor out of the Games," Dahlia begins solemnly, remembering the words embedded in her mind like a personal motto. "But you can't take the Games out of the Victor." Realisation hits Lavender harder than a speeding train, expression falling in understanding. "Why are you here, Lavender?"
Shuffling awkwardly onto the bed, Lavender doesn't meet her sister's inquisitive eyes. "It's-- It's stupid." She shakes her head with a sigh, refusing to look up as she admits, "I don't like the bed."
"It's too big, right?" Dahlia states with a soft reminiscent smile, watching as Lavender gasps and turns to face the older girl. Her eyebrows are furrowed in confusion and curiosity swirls in her gaze. "Like lying on a cloud. Any minute you'll just--"
"--fall right through." Lavender finishes in excitement, nearly jumping up and down in her spot.
Dahlia giggles at her sister's childlike behaviour. "I went through exactly the same thing when I was in your position."
"How'd you get used to it?" Lavender asks eagerly, staring up at Dahlia with hopeful eyes.
"You never really get used to it." Dahlia replies honestly, making Lavender's body deflate in disappointment. "Sorry to burst your bubble, but the Capitol's much different to District Five. And the people there don't care about who you were. They care about what you have to offer them."
Lavender hangs on to every word Dahlia says, inhaling them in like the air she breathes. "I don't have anything to offer."
"Yes, you do." Dahlia retorts, sniggering as Lavender's nose wrinkles in bafflement. "Have you been paying attention to any of my advice?" Lavender's sheepish smile tells Dahlia all she needs to know, rolling her eyes playfully at the teenager's indifference. "You can offer them entertainment. All they want is a show, remember?"
"I'm not good at that kind of thing." Lavender argues back, mood dimming at the prospect of entertaining a crowd of Capitol citizens. "I can't pretend to be something I'm not. I'm never gonna make it in the Games. I'm not a killer like--"
"Like me?" Dahlia asks numbly as Lavender's face contorts with regret. "It's okay, Lav. You can say it."
"Dahls--" Lavender stammers, staring apologetically at the sister she's avoided for so many years. "I'm sorry--"
"I'm not." Dahlia interrupts sharply, ignoring Lavender's attempts at comforting her. "I'm not sorry for what I've done. Sorry will never bring back the people I've killed. It won't bring back the people I've lost. So I live my life for them instead." Tears spill down Lavender's cheeks silently at the years of pain evident in such a young girl's voice. "I did what I did so I could get back to you, Lav... I became a killer so I could see you again... And I don't regret any of it." Their matching dark eyes meet, like the reflection in a mirror. Dahlia stares into the eyes of her former self, innocent and untainted by the horrors of reality. Whereas Lavender stares into the eyes of the woman she's destined to become if she escapes the games with her life. "I'm a fighter, Lav. I fought for you and I will continue to fight for you until my dying breath. I'm not letting you give up now. So you need to fight as well. Can you do that for me?"
Nearly sobbing with tears, Lavender nods hesitantly, feeling empowered by the strength exuding from her sister. "I'll fight for you, Dahls."
"No, you'll fight for you." Dahlia instructs her, connecting their nearer hands for the first time in years. Squeezing three times, Dahlia is elated when she feels her sister return the sentiment. Before she knows it, Lavender has leapt forward into Dahlia's arms and clings onto her for dear life.
"I've missed you." Lavender whispers the confession into Dahlia's ear, bringing a tear to the older girl's eye. Hesitantly, she melts into the embrace and allows herself to find solace at Lavender's touch.
"I've missed you, too." She replies sincerely, eyes fluttering closed at the pure joy of being held by her sister. But there's a twinge of sadness in her mind. This reconciliation may have come too late to amount to anything if Lavender isn't the Victor of these games. But she can't throw one girl aside to ensure the other succeeds.
Only one will win... Annie Cresta or Lavender Blossom?