𝐓𝐑𝐈𝐆𝐆𝐄𝐑 𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆.
hello. hello.
before you read this chapter, please know that
there will be mentioning of suicide and post traumatic stress.
please do not read any further if this is a sensitive topic for you.
thank you for your time !
xo
𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐒𝐈𝐗 —
𝐐𝐔𝐀𝐑𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐐𝐔𝐄𝐋𝐋
❝ Promise me one thing. Ask for help in this hard time, not because you're weak but because you want to remain strong. ❞
— 𝐀𝐑𝐋𝐎 𝐌𝐄𝐋𝐋𝐀𝐑𝐊
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BEING HOME AFTER ATTENDING the party made me realized how much I miss my life before the Games. Of course, I had other things to worry about, starving for example but I was happy somehow.
Me and Cato didn't have the chance to talk in private after being interrupted on the balcony by Haymitch and my brother. Even though we should see eachother in our different Districts, we never did so. Months went by without seeing hte man I grew so close to in the moments of death, even sacrificing my own life after he died in my arms.
I continued to see Gale, even though he had a hard time watching me all in love with another as me and Cato announced our engagement. Me and Gale grew even closer, but I knew I had to give him up someday, knowing I can't offer him a future.
The day has come, the announcement for the next Games by no one other but our President is tonight. Every twenty-five years there's a Quarter Quell edition of the Games. Quells mark the anniversaries of the Districts' defeat by the Capitol, and include special celebrations.
The Games involves some sort of twist that makes them even more disastrous or difficult to compete in, or watch. A small box has small yellow envelopes containing specific themes or twists for each Quarter Quell. These instructions were planned at the founding of the Hunger Games, with plans in place for hundreds of Games. The President selects the appropriate card and reads it on live television to announce the theme of that year's Quell.
I will be a mentor for that year, together with Haymitch. I will train the unlucky chosen ones, only to either watch them get slaughtered or they win to be a Victor, thinking they escaped the horror, but in secret they never will.
I'm sitting together with Ace and Gale in front of our tv-screen after we had dinner, waiting unpatiently for the President's annoucement for the third Quarter Quell. We asked Haymitch to come over to watch it with us but he wanted to be alone.
Haymitch was in the second Quarter Quell, the 50th Games. Four tributes were chosen from each district instead of the usual two to remind the rebels that for each Capitol citizen killed, two rebels died. This put twice as many people in the arena and made it twice as brutal. I think the third Quarter Quell makes it even harder for him.
Gale wrapped his arm around me as we sit next to eachother on the couch. "What do you think will be different this year?" The blue eyes boy looks at me, sighing.
"Honestly, I reckon with everything."
Ace nods to show he agrees, when he suddenly puts the volume up when President Snow is announced.
"Ladies and gentlemen, this is the seventy-fifth year of the Hunger Games. It was written in the charter of the games that every twenty-five years there will be a Quarter Quell. Now, on this the 75th anniversary of our defeat of the rebellion we celebrate the third Quarter Quell."
The crowd cheers. Gale pulls me closer to him, kissing the top of my head gently as he rubs my side lovingly.
"As a reminder, that even the strongest cannot overcome the power of the Capitol. On this, the third Quarter Quell game, the male and female tributes are to be reaped from the existing pool of Victors in each district. "
My heart stops at the last part of his speech. I just look at the screen bluntly as my body collapses inside.
"No!" Ace screams. "No, he can't do that!" My brothers voice cracks as I pull away from Gale in trance, moving up.
This is my fault. Me not visiting Cato, me sacrificing myself for him in the arena. Love makes you weak, love makes you do things you shouldn't.
Love is all that's wrong with me.
He wants me dead.
Gale just sits there, looking at the screen in disbelief as I run out of the room and out of the mansion. I run out of the Victor's village as I hear Ace and Gale screaming my name and for me to get back.
I stumble on my feet, falling onto the cold hard ground. But I didn't care enough to stand up again, I just lay there as tears pour down my face. I don't know how much time went by with me laying there as I feel nothing but pure emptiness.
"Ophelia?" I hear a soft voice calling my name. I don't move, instead I close my eyes, in hope the person will vanish away.
"It's Arlo," Peeta's brother leans down, over my body to face me.
I open my eyes to look at him, not saying a word. "What are you doing out here in the cold?" The boy asks worried as he helps me up.
"You haven't been watching the announcement?" I ask, shocked at my own raspy voice.
Arlo shakes his head as he drops down the flour bag he carried. The boy wraps his brown jacket around me gently.
"I have to get back in," I mumble and as I speak it out I realize Haymitch is the only other victor of District 12 remaining, meaning he will be the other tribute of my District.
"This is not possible," Arlo stutters, looking at me with wide eyes.
I stand still as my eyes look back at Arlo, my lips already turning blue from the cold.
"I'm still waiting for someone to wake me up from this nightmare," I mumble as another tear runs down my cold cheeks.
"I'll bring you home." Arlo offers and I just shake my head. "I'll be fine, I just need time on my own." I reply and Arlo shakes his head
"Promise me one thing. Ask for help in this hard time, not because you're weak but because you want to remain strong."
I just look at the boy with the dirty-blonde hair for a moment before nodding slowly. The boy smiles softly at me when I unwrap his jacket from my cold body, handing it over to him. "Thank you, Arlo. After everything.. you're still so nice to me."
Arlo grabs around his jacket. "You never did anything to anger me, Ophelia. He didn't die because of you, his fate was sealed when he was reaped. Don't blame yourself for all the bad things that have happened in your life."
I nod slowly. "Thank you, truly." I mumble before turning around to return to get back to the Victor's Village. I feel Arlo's hazel eyes burning into my back as I walk home.
Me and Haymitch have to get back in, there are no other remaining Victor's in twelve. Cato has hope to not be in the Quarter Quell. But hope is a dangerous thing for people like us.
I already see Ace and Gale waiting outside our mansion for my return. Both of them run towards me when I see Haymitch Standing there as well. He looks horrible.
"You're freezing cold, come on, get in." Ace sighs in worry as he drags me with him.
Haymitch follows us inside and takes a seat next to me on the Couch. Both of us just sit there, without saying a word while Ace makes us some tea to warm up.
"I'm sorry, Haymitch." I start after a while when Gale took a seat on the couch as well, right next to me. Gale wraps me into a soft blanket.
Haymitch turns his head to look at me. "Sorry for what?"
"He wants to get back at me," I sigh before I shift my eyes to look at the wooden floor.
"It's not your fault, Phee." Gale wraps an arm around me but I shift away immediately.
"It is, all of it started when I sacrificed myself for.." I look at Gale as I speak, noticing his mood changes once I mention him.
"We were damned the second we were reaped, your actions just put fuel into the fire." Haymitch mumbles, almost careless but I know him too well to know he's just building up a wall to hide his true emotions. I smell the alcohol coming from him, meaning he already tried to numb his anger and sadness.
"But, Cato is safe right? I mean there are more victors in District 2."
"Possible for that kid." Haymitch replies.
"You're about to get sent back into the games and all you care about is him?" Gale raises his tone.
"Hard being number two all your life, is it?" Haymitch chuckles drunkly before standing up, walking towards the kitchen.
Gale shots him a death glare as Ace gets back with two cups of tea meanwhile. My brother sets the warm cups down on the wood table.
"There is no way that you go back in there, O." Ace starts, looking directly at me.
"What other thing is there for me to do?" I reply coldly, my stare is blank.
Gale looks at me. "We can still run away. I can get Posy and my brothers tonight."
Suddenly there's a scream and the sound of glass shattering coming from the kitchen, making my blood stop flowing in my body.
"Haymitch," I stated before running into the kitchen to see broken glass, mixed with whiskey and blood on the wooden floor.
Ace and Gale followed me but stopped in the door frame when they see what's going on. The blonde male stands there, a knife in his hands as his body shakes.
"Please, put down the knife, Haymitch." I try to calm him down, my voice soft.
The mentor looks at me, desperation behind his eyes shades of blue. "I'm not going back there, I can't!" He screams.
"We will find a way to stop this, I promise."
Another promise to bring me death.
The blonde male from my District looks directly at me as he puts down the knife onto the kitchen table, his hands shaking. "What am I doing," He whispers to himself before his body collapses to the ground. All of us immediately run towards him.
I kneel down in front of Haymitch.
"They promised to leave us alone if we win. They promised us a life in peace but they keep coming back to take everything from us," He mumbles, not looking up.
Ace hands Haymitch a glass of water but the blonde refuses.
"What if we do run away?" Ace asks, looking at me.
I help Haymitch up with Gale's help and shake my head. "We can't run from this, not anymore. This has to stop."
Haymitch looks at me. "The chance to survive another Hunger Games is zero, sweetheart. Say goodbye to your boyfriend and fiancée. Or who knows maybe there are even more."
I shot him a death glare as I push him against the kitchen wall. My elbow laying right on his throat.
Gale and Ace look at me, waiting for me to say something or to do something but I truly lost hope for myself. Maybe Haymitch will win with enough sponsors, but I doubt that if someone like Kalen Castellan or Finnick Odair is reaped.
Hope is being able to see that there's light despite all of the darkness. But hope is a dangerous thing for us.
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AUTHOR NOTE
I love Arlo Mellark. Periodt.
word count; 1985