Our Love Could Be Lethal Act I Re-Write

Act I: The Long Game

The song for this chapter is "Sign of the Times," by Harry Styles.

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Even though the long and winding hallways of the Presidential Palace are filled with beautiful paintings, sculptures, stained glass windows, and elegant wood paneling, I still somehow find the concrete underground of the Tribute Tower to be much more welcoming.

We pass the occasional pair of Peacekeepers on patrol in the halls who pay us no mind, Plutarch is very clearly a constant feature here in the mansion, but other than that, we don't see a single soul. We must have entered one of the other wings of the giant mansion because after what feels like hours of walking, we start to hear the faint sounds of chatter getting closer and closer. But what puzzles me more is the fact that I hear the sound of children's laughter as well.

A door bursts open, startling me, only for a little girl and boy chasing a tiny fluffy puppy to cut across the hallway followed by a woman I can only assume is a nanny murmuring apologies as she follows after them. Plutarch assures me we're almost there, wherever there is, and we finally come round to a room with a giant table in the middle of it. Several Capitolians, some I recognize as Ministers or people high up in the Gamemaker's office, and some much younger people I don't recognize, are all drinking and laughing. Including the one and only Coriolanus Snow himself.

I suddenly feel jaw-droppingly stupid. The Capitol's elite aren't truly at the party, not most of them anyway, they are instead here, tucked away in their own untouchable and unreachable world. Snow's own inner circle. I suddenly wish I was like Beetee, the winner from over a decade ago now, who was able to fashion a bomb out of the tribute podiums. I could put an end to so much misery, or at the very least give the people in the districts a chance to feel what revenge truly tastes like. Or even better, maybe I could finally feel something as satisfying as vengeance.

The party comes to a screeching halt as they realize that Plutarch and I are standing in the doorway. I feel them all eating me up with their eyes, and I feel grateful to Gloriana for putting me in the puffy dress—it acts as a buffer making it harder for them to devour me completely, more so than any form-fitting or exposing outfit would have anyway.

"It seems my guest is here," says Snow, handing his glass off to someone beside him. "If you'll all excuse me."

Snow motions for me and Plutarch to follow him into an offshoot room that must be his office or at least one of them. He pulls out his red velvet chair and once he's seated, he motions for me to sit across from him. As I lower myself warily into the seat, Plutarch sits down beside me.

A tense moment goes by and I try to quell my nerves. But it's hard to do when the most powerful man alive sits across from you and you don't know what he wants. "Do you know why you're here Miss Jones?"

I can feel Plutarch beside me, looking at me expectantly to answer. I swallow hard and shelf nervously under the weight of his gaze. "Well sir," I try to decide between being blunt or being feigning ignorance. I choose to play down the middle, a half lie. "I assume it has something to do with my fight with Brutus."

Snow looks disappointed with my answer. "Wrong. I could care less about a little interpersonal squabble between victors."

"I'm afraid I have some sad news to deliver to you. I've been told your grandmother is in critical condition." It's her. Of course it had to be her. The only thing left I love, is probably gasping for air, or calling out wondering where I am because she doesn't have the mind to remember I'm in the Capitol. "The usual protocol with Victors is to transfer them to one of the hospitals here in the Capitol due to the superior facilities. But unfortunately, the doctor in 2 has informed me that she's not stable enough to be transferred." She's going to die scared and alone. I let my eyes wander over to Plutarch, and he gives me the tiniest squint of the eyes, telling me that Snow is telling me the truth.