He meant everything to her. Three years later and she'd still do anything to keep him safe, sacrifice everything to protect him- even if that meant keeping him at an arm's length.
She was the one person who truly knew him. The one person he'd choos...
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———
Harsh white lights reigned down from every corner, garishly flooding onto the stage. It was quiet, at least for the moment. Only the soft buzz of electricity and whispers penetrated her eardrums. Maybe that's why she was having trouble focusing. Or maybe it was the fact that there were hundreds of thousands of people watching her every movement.
Whatever the root may have been, didn't matter. Not to anyone there anyway.
"Ladies and gentleman," Caesar paused, glancing over at her. "Let's give one more warm welcome to our victor of the 68th Hunger Games, Cassiopeia Winterton!"
Deafening cheers and claps instantly broke out amongst the Capitol. Cass's gaze shifted between various opulently dressed citizens, their lavish attire entirely too much. All of it— it was just too much.
"How about that?" Caesar flashed a smile to the camera before turning to her. "Now tell us...how does it feel to be a victor?"
The corners of her lips drew up in a smile, her eyes flickering up to Caesar's. "It couldn't be better."
Caesar let out a laugh, letting his eyes trail over her sea-green gown. "That's right. And my, my. Doesn't she look fabulous?" He asked, turning to the crowd. Another chorus of cheers followed, the smile remaining painstakingly plastered to her face. "Now, Cass," Caesar wavered as the crowd promptly fell silent. "Tell me about surviving in this year's arena."
Cass swallowed hard and let out a breath. "Well, Caesar, I can confidently tell you that I never ran out of water."
As soon as the words had fallen from her lips, laughter broke out. Caesar chuckled, shaking his head. "You don't say? I mean, you were on a rig anchored and surrounded by almost one-thousand meters of water. That's crazy enough, not to mention the lack of food and resources. I mean, how did you survive?"
Cass smiled. "A great mentor and immense support from the Capitol."
"That'll do it." Caesar turned to the audience. "Won't it, folks?" More applause filled the space, quickly dying out as quickly as it'd started. He cleared his throat, once again facing her. "And, Cass, you managed to take out five other tributes on a fixed platform in the middle of the ocean. That's quite remarkable." He expressed, leaning forward. "How does it feel to know that you not only outsmarted, but outfought this year's tributes at just sixteen years old?"
Cass dropped her gaze, all of the oxygen subsequently leaving her lungs. She could no longer inhale or do anything of the sort. Her dark eyes trailed over her fingertips, then her palms, only crimson appearing in her line of sight.
Fresh blood coated her hands, sticking to her skin like wet cement. That's all she saw and it's all she felt as panic seized her. Her heart palpitated in her chest as she rapidly flipped her hands over, roughly wiping her palms on the material of her dress. Anything to get it off of her; anything to strip away the guilt eating away at her chest.
Cass abruptly sat up, eyes shifting around her dark room. She tried to regain control of her breathing, her chest heaving up and down as a result. Sweat coated her scalp and the back of her neck as her gaze fell down to her hands. Nothing was there. Her hands appeared to be clean, despite being utterly tainted.
Morning light was attempting to shine through her closed curtains, a strip of the covers illuminated in front of her. Cass closed her eyes, willing the memories to stop. For her heart to stop thumping inside her chest. She just needed all of it to stop.
But it never would.
Cass reluctantly slid her legs off the side of her bed, dropping her feet down to the cold wood below. She stood and made her way to her closet, picking out an outfit. She pulled it on before forcing herself to open her door.
Not every day was like this, but the bad outnumbered the good by far. She'd learned to live with it though— the nightmares and the guilt. Those were two things she didn't think would ever leave her. Not after seven years and not after the last four. No, those were things she'd have to bear for the rest of her life, however long that number happened to be.
As Cass stepped into the kitchen, a tall figure appeared around the other connecting corner. Rhett met her gaze, a small smile lifting the corners of his mouth. "Hey, Cass. You sleep okay?"
"Great." She responded, letting out a breath and turning back to the cabinets.
Without another word, her older brother stepped around the counter separating them and wrapped his arms around her. "Hey, come here. I know you don't wanna go back. I know."
As much as she wanted to feel comforted by his words, she wasn't. Rhett may have been one of her best friends, but he'd never experienced The Games. He'd never experienced being a mentor or watching fellow tributes die in front of him without being able to do a damn thing. He'd never had to kill his way through other teenagers just to survive.
"I love you, Cass." He murmured, pulling away to look down at her.
She locked onto his eyes, forcing a smile onto her face. "Love you, too."
"Dad's in the other room. It's about to start." Rhett voiced, nodding towards the living room.
Cass followed him, staying silent. Another reaping meant another two tributes she and Finnick would have to mentor. And should their luck happen to run out, another two deaths for District 4.
As the two siblings entered the living room, Sawyer's head perked up. "Just came on." Their dad explained, patting the space next to him on the couch.
Cass sat down next to her father, Rhett taking a seat on her other side. President Snow's voice filled the room, speaking clearly to the people of Panem. And it was all total bullshit.
"Ladies and Gentleman, this is the 75th year of The Hunger Games." He announced, pausing momentarily for the applause following his statement. "And it was written in the charter of The Games that every 25 years, there would be a Quarter Quell to keep fresh for each new generation the memory of those who died in the uprising against The Capitol. Each Quarter Quell is distinguished by Games of a special significance. And now on this, the 75th anniversary of our defeat of the rebellion, we celebrate the 3rd Quarter Quell—"
Snow paused as the crowd cheered, their claps echoing into the living room. Sawyer glanced over at his two children, his eyes ultimately landing on his daughter. Her gaze was captivated by the hologram, her chest beginning to lean forward as their president continued.
"As a reminder that even the strongest cannot overcome the power of The Capitol." Snow reassured them, lifting a card to read from. "On this, the 3rd Quarter Quell Games, the male and female tributes are to be reaped from the existing pool of victors in each district."
Shock washed over Cass, the feeling quickly overpowered by the anger coursing through her veins. She didn't hesitate to leave, attempting to bound from the living room.
"Cass!" Her dad shouted just as she opened the front door. "Dammit."
"No, no, no—"
The sound of her older brother's voice was abruptly cut off as she slammed the door shut and broke out into a sprint down the street. She felt like she could barely breathe, like she was drowning in her own oxygen.
Mags.
Annie.
Cassiopeia.
Those were the names that could possibly be chosen for the female tributes.
Finnick.
He was the only male tribute. He was going back in The Games. There was no one to take his place or to volunteer for him. He was going by default and that absolutely terrified her.
