No Regrets (a Hunger Games Fan Fiction)

37. No Regrets

       In the morning they make me eat a muffin, and then escort me back to my room so my prep team and Brandon can prepare me for my final interview. As they pick at my hair and scrub at my body I remind myself that this is the last time I'll have to do this for months, but the thought doesn't comfort me much. Last night is still on my mind.

        Brandon dresses me in mostly black this time, instead of gray. 

"I would've put you in all black, but Wiress didn't like the idea." Brandon explains as he fixes my hair.

"Why do you want me in all black?" I ask him.

"I figured it would be... fitting."

"How so?" I ask.

He shakes his head. "You'll see."

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        The living room has been rearranged for my interview. They pushed the couch into the dining room, and moved around the coffee table and chairs. Now two of the chairs sit across from each other, and the coffee table sits in front of them. A perfect interview setting.

Caesar welcomes me into the room, and I give him the smallest of smiles. He compliments my outfit, as usual, but adds in, "I thought gray was your theme of outfits. Why the change, C?"

        I glance around the room and find Brandon next to the camera. I stare at him, thinking, What do I say?

        He points at his chest. His heart. Then, it finally hits me.

"Brandon and I... We thought it'd be appropriate." I explain, still looking at Brandon. He gives me a thumbs-up.

"How so?" Caesar asks.

"Because... Because I'm mourning, Caesar." I reply.

"Oh. I understand. Adam."

I get an idea. "No... No, not just Adam. Rikki, too. And everyone. Every Tribute who entered that arena with me. Even the ones I killed myself." It's true; their deaths are a horrible weight in my chest.

        The interview continues on, but it's got a sour note to it. It's like my words are still echoing through it. And Caesar treats me like I'm soft now, breakable. I may be, but I don't want it shown.

"Caesar," I finally say, "You're treating me like I'm breakable. I can't be, I mean, I won the Hunger Games." I give him a smile, hoping he'll take the hint.

"Sorry about that." He replies, "What you said, it must've gotten to me..."

        The interview picks up after that. And when Caesar signs off, I feel a huge weight being taken off my chest. I'm done with the Hunger Games, at least for now; I've still got the Victory Tour looming ahead of me, but that's not for months.

        Now, I can go home. And I can do the thing Adam said he would do if he won: 

"I'm going to lay down and sleep for three days."

"Why?"

"To forget."

        Part of me doesn't want to forget. But the sensible part of me, the strong, powerful, intimidating C does. Cynth, the soft girl who loves Adam, wants to wallow in pain forever. She wants to have regrets.

        But C has none.

        So I choose C, and I have no regrets.