The Price of Champions and Crowns (Hunger Games)

2

I groaned, my head unusually foggy. That's what alerted me to the fact that it was all real.

Drowning...the cannon and a Victor. 

My eyes opened to find myself in a different hospital room. It smells of chemicals and I'm hooked up to some sort of machine. The room is thankfully empty. I instantly winced and propped myself up onto my elbows. My room is unsurprisingly white but I didn't have any time to admire it as my door suddenly slammed open to revel Johanna.

My mother stood. Eyes hard, pursed lips with arms crossed over her stomach. Identical blue eyes  stared back at me and I couldn't help the sob that escaped me. Crying, I'm crying in-front of Johanna. And for the fucking life of me I don't have it in me to care.

I'm hysterical. Wailing even. She didn't move, all the while I'm screaming my lungs out. 

She stared at the roof in evident frustration. "Victoria".

Yet, I don't stop. I don't think I'll ever stop. Liam's dead. And I'm alive. A painful truth, a painful reality. My reality. One I don't ever want to come to terms with.

Johanna pinched the bridge of her nose before shaking her head and staring me down pointedly. As if to say 'you finished?'. My reply was another sob followed by a demented sigh of grief. 

Love. I always thought I wanted it and now I wish I'd never felt it. No one should experience this level of pain. It's torture, I can't breathe. I hate it. I hate love. But most importantly I just want him.  I want to feel his hand hold mine. I want to make fun of him until I see that genuine smirk I love so much. I want it to be him sitting here crying over my dead body in that arena. I want it to be him who gets to see his mother who he actually loves after winning the games. Not me sitting here in front of the woman who questionably may or may not have wanted me out of there!.

Johanna huffed and sat on the corner of my bed while I continued to sob. In fairness to her, she sat there for five hours straight while I cried. She didn't talk to me or touch me but she stayed.

...it's the most motherly thing I can ever remember her doing. 

Until my sobs subsided and I was reduced to wiping away tears that still hadn't let up. Then it got awkward. Awkward in the way silence does when two strangers are alone together. 

My mother cleared her throat and I looked up to her warily face. It looked like she was debating wether to speak at all. As if I might suddenly combust. But it was me who spoke first anyways. "I want to die, it should've been me. He was stronger an-".

"Shut up".

I blinked in surprise. She was all but rolling her eyes at me. "You keep talking like that, then you're not going to make it though the next twelve months. I need you to understand that things are different now. You're not a child, you're a Victor, Victoria. Do you understand what I'm saying?".

I felt myself frown. No. I have no fucking idea. "Like, being poised in public? or doing things for the sake of others?".

Apart from that, I don't have a clue what she's talking about. If I'm a shit Victor and Snow decided to off me then I wouldn't care. Hell, let him!.

She clicked her tongue and gave me a warning look. "You won a different game. Other Victors won't aid or support you in anyway, neither will the districts. You've made enemies out of everyone".

Oh of course, how I could I be so naive?!?.

The cost of winning the one hundredth games. Mentoring every year now is going to be a nightmare, like Victors potentially plotting my death kind of nightmare. Then there's the fame, extra fucking fame I don't need. The daughter of Johanna Mason, a score of twelve, beautiful, fell in love and killed expertly. An axe murder just like mummy. And the districts, I killed the children of their beloved Victors...she's right. The next twelve months are going to be hard to survive. 

I sniffed and brought my knees up to my chest. "What about Snow?".

Johanna's hard demeanour seemed to lessen as she turned her head to glare at the wall. "Twelve months, he'll ask you and it's your choice".

I bit my lip and stared at the crisp white bed sheets. "Who would he use as leverage?".

It's a dumb question. It's obviously going to be her. Fuck Capitol men like a whore or somehow he'll find a way to kill the great Johanna Mason. I bet he'd enjoy it too after all the free speech and trouble she's caused over the years. 

I heard her scoff. "Me, or those friends that work in the printing press..."

I felt my eye twitch in anger. "What's wrong with working in the printing press?!?".

I don't know why that comment pissed me off so much. Maybe it's the fact that now I can't ever work in one. That I won't ever be a lumberjack or paper maker. Can't work or have a family without knowing that one day they'll be reaped and forced to kill like I was. 

Johanna cackled. "Oh, did you want to be oppressed and provide for the Capitol?".

Mock sympathy dripped from her mouth and I glared daggers at her. Fuck. You. I smiled sweetly at her. "I threw your token into the ocean. It's forever lost just like your sense of empathy". 

If looks could kill...