Storm: A Hunger Games Story {Book One of the Storm Trilogy}

Eighteen

That night I dreamt of mutts and arenas, an evil president and careers, dead children and blood. I woke up screaming, much like every other night.

Wes always helped me calm down. He helped me separate reality from nightmares, and I helped him.

I fell back asleep hesitantly, afraid of what other nightmares would haunt me that night.

When I looked around, I was back in the arena from my games. I was standing right where my friend died in my arms. I could see his blood on the ground.

"Ophelia," a voice called to me softly, "Ophelia, it's me." I turned around, and there he was. He was smiling, no sign of pain anywhere.

I still couldn't say his name. Even in my subconscious I knew he was dead. He was never coming back.

"You're not real," I told him quietly, a tear falling down my cheek. He walked over to me, still smiling. He grasped my hand, and I could feel him.

"I'm real, Ophelia." I didn't hesitate to wrap my arms around him, sobbing.

"I'm so sorry. I'm so sorry," I started.

"Stop. You have nothing to apologize for. One of us was going to die, and it was me. It isn't your fault. I'm just sorry you had to be there." I pulled away and looked him over again, making sure there were no wounds.

"I wasn't going to leave you to die alone. You're my friend." I told him through wobbly lips. My voice cracked as I said friend.

"You deserve happiness, Ophelia. I'm okay, I'm not in pain. I know we both deserved to live, but that wasn't going to happen. Live your life,"

"Snow is watching me. He's waiting for me to mess up so he can kill my family. I can't just live, this isn't living. This is existing." I cut him off.

"I know. He's an evil person, but you can still live in this world. Be happy with Wes, make friends, help other kids cope with the games." Even in death, he wished for my happiness, for the happiness of others.

"I miss you so much." I cried, holding onto him.

"I miss you too, but I'm always here. I will always be here." I held onto him for what felt like hours. I didn't want to wake up, it would be a reality where I couldn't hug him or see him. He pulled away from me, causing me to grab him harder.

"Please don't leave."

"I have to, Ophelia. Just know I'm always with you, okay? Tell my parents I loved them. I love you." He disappeared, vanishing into thin air.

"No! Aaron? Aaron!" I screamed his name for the first time since his death, shocking myself in the process.

I jolted awake, looking around the room for him. It might have been my mind playing tricks on me, but I swear I could smell him in the room.

Wes didn't ask questions, he knew when I didn't want to talk about something. I was tired of crying. I was tired of all of it.

That day I wore sky blue, for him. We were whisked to the Justice Building to prepare for my final speech. My final goodbye.

It still didn't feel real that I was doing this. Saying my final goodbye to him in front of our district, his parents. I would have to see them cry for him, grieve him.

"Let go, Ophelia. Let go." Wes whispered in my ear as I waited for the grand doors to open. He kissed my cheek, reassuring me.

"Ladies and gentlemen, the victor of the 68th Hunger Games, the pride of District Eight, Ophelia Wyatt!" Mayor Fields announced. The doors swung open, and I slowly walked forward with my head held low.

I willed myself to walk up to the microphone, somehow. I didn't realize I was walking until I reached it.

As soon as I looked up from the ground, I knew I wasn't ready to face this. My hand flew to my mouth as I stared into his deep blue eyes. The ones I see in my nightmares. The ones I see every time I close my eyes. The ones I'd recognize anywhere.

His mother was sobbing, barely holding herself up in her husband's arms. Mr. Duke tried to stay strong for his wife, but I could see from so far away that he was trying not to break down himself.

I couldn't do this. Not in front of all these people. I looked around, feeling the air escaping my lungs. I couldn't breathe. Tears began to stream down my face. I can't do this.

"I'm so sorry. I can't tell you how sorry I am, because there is no measure great enough to express how sorry I am." I could barely hold it together as I stared his parents in the face. I could see him in them. I could see he got his nose from his mom, and his eyes from his dad.

I had to say it. It was time. His death was staring me right in the face. I was basically delivering his eulogy.

"A-Aaron, was my friend. He was kind, funny, selfless, and full of light. I miss him, every day of my life. I miss hearing his laugh, I miss our talks late at night, I miss the comfort he brought me. I felt like I had known him for years. He never failed to cheer me up when I was feeling down. He died so I could live. I will never forget him, and everything he did for me. The sacrifice he gave for me." District Eight stood up and clapped, but I only focused on Aaron's parents. They hung onto every word I said about their son. They nodded along with me, knowing everything I was saying was truth.

"I am proud to represent District Eight, my home. I am proud to honor my district, and to be able to provide for you all. This year will be a generous one, and it's all thanks to the Capitol. Without them, we wouldn't be granted the oil, and grain, and the things that will keep us alive this year. I would like to say one last thing. Thank you to Wes Michaels for being an amazing mentor, for helping to keep me and Aaron alive for as long as possible, and for teaching us both very valuable lessons. Once again, I am so proud to say I am from District Eight, and that I could represent our district in this year's games. Thank you." The audience erupted into applause, supporting me when they all knew I was being forced to say these things.

After my speech, the entirety of District Eight was granted a huge feast by the Capitol. Everyone sat at tables in District Eight's Justice Building, enjoying the warmth and the good meals. They danced, they drank, they ate, and they danced some more. Mayor Fields raised a toast to me, and a toast to Aaron for his sacrifice. I didn't dance, or drink. I sat at my table with my family. It felt disgraceful to dance and celebrate when Aaron was dead. When I delivered his eulogy to his grieving parents less than ten hours ago.

My family and I were too stuffed to have a family dinner when we got home. I fell asleep quickly, glad to be home and back in my bed. Glad to be home so I can keep my family safe.

I felt comforted, knowing that Aaron was okay, wherever he was. It didn't take away the pain that he was gone, and never coming back.