The Price of Champions and Crowns (Hunger Games)

7

My eyes were hard and trained directly onto those fake looking contacts in outrage. Caesar opened and closed his mouth several times before he gave me a dazzling smile. "That's all the time we have, Victoria".

The crowd cheered and that confused me even more. I could feel my head tip to the side in consideration. They'd be crying and act in pain if they're newest victor didn't get to finish their interview. Especially this interview.

He swallowed nervously but still remained calm and smiley. Even now facing away from me to the crowd. He sighed in pity. "While some new Victors choose substance abuse, President Snow has the finest program for you to attend to crack this new habit before it becomes a problem".

He then stood, his own eyes now hard as he fake hugged me in a iron like grip. "Don't become a problem, Sweetheart. Smile back and walk off or he'll have us both...for real".

It was whispered in my ear. While the crowd was praising the Capitol on supposedly helping me cope through a drug program. I shivered but ignoring them, I looked back at a man I've barely known my entire life. Right now, he's scared and I can tell if I refuse to leave this stage right now, then somebody else will be commentating next years games. 

So, with a pretty smile, a fake kiss and a wave. I walk off that stage to not have another soul on my conscience. As soon as I'm in the wings I vomit. Maybe its from the morphine or most likely...its that I nearly cost myself my life. I was high, out of my mind and pushed onto a stage to blurt out anything and everything.

After hunching over I stood and came  face to face with a crowd of Victors. All of whom have a looks of amusment or disgust, some even managed both. My mother, Katniss Mellark, Peeta Mellark, Haymitch Abernathy and Finnick Odair. He hurts to look at so I tore my eyes away and focused on Johanna.

Angry scowl, arms crossed and then her mouth twitches. Ever so slightly until she smirks and indicates to the vomit infront of my feet. "What a show".

Proud?...Disgusted?...Both? Anyones guess is as good as mine. But I don't feel like arguing or forcing her to talk just to hear her voice. Or to ever see her, in fact. I'd be estatic if I never have to see her ever again.

 I stare her down before I shrug and grab the nearest curtain, ignoring the questioning looks from the Victors around me. And I swirl it around in my own patch of vomit.

Ignoring Johannna, as she indicates to me and makes some remarke comparing me to Annie Odair.

Ignoring the angry attack of words that Finnick immediately shouts back.

Ignoring the way Peeta hesitantly edges coser to me and whispers about how an Avox will take care of it for me.

Ignoring the wretch from Katniss as I pick up the drenched curtain before I stomp up behind my mother and cover her in it like a cocoon.

Haymitch spits out his drink and I have to doge to aviod the splutter.

She pauses but its all she needs before shes screaming and I don't stay to watch. I'm running, and running. Until I'm in a corridor where I'm met with an ensemble of peacekeepers who are approaching the exist to the other wing of the stage. 

And there's familiar  voices in the other end of that corrido-

"And just what were you trying to achieve with that, Young Lady?!?".

I don't have to look up to know whose got me by the arm. I roll my eyes as Clement of all people drags me back behind the stage again. Where Johanna is being comforted by Katniss (If that's even what it is) while she yells obscurities about, well...me.

Johanna then in a flutter of arms pushes Katniss away before she stomps angrily up to me. Identical eyes stare back at me. Full of pain, loathing, hate and regret. "Home. We're leaving now!".

She then turned to Clemet, who flipped his long blue hair dramatically to cover up his fear of her. "I want a train ready in half an hour. If I hear one word about locking her up in a drug program they'll have to go through me!".

She didn't spare me a second glance before strutting out of the room like she wasn't soaked in my foul innards. That is until Finnick pulled on her arm. "That's not the plan".

She stilled and exahled before whipping around to glare at him. "Change of plans". She then gave the lot of them a twisted smirk. "I'll see you lot at the Victory Tour".

Everything about it was false and Finnick looks ready to snap...maybe even Kill. Suddenly I remembered what Liam had told me in the arena about Finnick Odair. I found myself taking a subconscious step back.

Johanna smirked, winked and strutted out of the room with Clement nipping at her heels while muttering about being practical. 

I was beyound confused and yet immensely satisfied. I've never done anything remotely  horrible to her in my entire life and that felt good. I didn't expect her to just take it like she did. Perhaps she felt bad and that alarms me. That Johanna Mason, my mother might just be capable of guilt. Or...something even more unsettling. Now that I've won, maybe she feels guilty about how she's treated me.

I don't know how he managed it but Clement was able to ship Johanna, Blight and myself onto a luxurious train back to District Seven within the hour. I haven't seen her since she walked out with Clement.

Instead I've found myself alone, in comfortable clothes while staring out a window. Watching as the tall buildings get smaller and the small trees get bigger. Its moments like these where I'll miss Trent now. Now that he's not here to always confide in. I felt myself let out a sob. I'm going home back to Victors Villiage where I'll now be a victor. Highly respected and praised but still shunned in that way workers do to their victors. Not to bother them, admire them from a far because we've suffered enough without the added fame from our own District.

They won't just smile at me now...they'll fall to my feet. And I'll be alone. Trapped in a empty like mansion nesstled between Blight and Johanna.

Liam's voice, soft and sweet entered my head about picking between lumber jack or printing press. Fisherman or at markets selling fish. About what we'd be if we ever made it out;

"Doesn't matter anyways. We'll only ever be a Victor if we make if out of here alive. Living in a mansion next door to our parents. Forever living the same mundane routines"