Take Care of Yourself

Then-Part 1

Eight people. I had killed eight people. The voice overhead was singing my praises, announcing  my victory, my survival. But, I had killed eight people. Eight living breathing people. I had killed them.
      The person below me was Maxxe. A girl from district eleven. She was good, really good. She had killed a couple people, and I had killed her. I slit her throat, and her blood covered my hands. I had ended her life, before she had even tried to end mine.
    And her eyes, frozen with fear. Her body tense and rigid. She was so afraid, her scream so piercing  and loud. I could still hear it. It echoed around in my head, twisting its way through my body and settling in my stomach. I felt like I was going to throw up, or start breathing fire, or freeze to death.
     The voice above me was mute. I only felt it through the sound waves around me, prickling my skin, standing my hairs on end. I felt them, the eyes, the hundreds of thousand's prying eyes watching me as I fell apart at the seems. My blank stare, my ragged clothes, my hair matted with blood and spit and sweat. I felt them dig into me, cut me open, rip me apart.
     And for a moment, I looked at the artificial sky above me. There was a subtle line that ran across the top, where the two panels had been sealed together. The pictures seemed to line up perfectly, but if you watched the clouds close enough, one would pass through one side without ever touching the other. Those were the little things I noticed.
    And the trees, how real they seemed. Usually they would grow them, nurture them, plant them in the arena and then use their wood for paper and fuel. This year, the trees were all huge, hulking. Giant stores of life shooting up through the ground, ripping through the soil, digging deep into the earth. But this year, when a tree fell, you could see it was hollow and fake. Some people hid in them, others hid supplies and weapons. Either way, I didn't  think they'd ever use these trees again.
    Then I felt it. That overwhelming sense of fear.
I was a victor. I was done. I had survived. I was the only one left. I should have celebrated, cried at the thought of seeing my brother again, a thought that was once so foreign and far away. But now, as I felt the weight of myself upon my shoulders, I wish I had let myself succumb to the arena instead.
     My limbs tingled, my skin crawling, my veins burning  and bursting underneath my skin. Finally, the sky seemed to crack right open, and I floated up into the clouds.

~

Snow fell gently to the ground, covering the frozen lake in a soft, white blanket. If you listened hard enough, and the house was quiet enough, you could hear the snow falling onto itself, slowly rising, layer by layer.
    I always liked snow, it was like rain yet more forgiving. It clearnsed you just the same, but cushioned your falls and added blush to your cheeks. Finnick used to make snow men, my mother had so many  pictures of him. All that stopped after his games, I didn't understand why, until I won mine and suddenly lost the desire to play in the snow too.
    Now, I just liked to  watch it. When the house was dark and empty, and I was still waiting for Finnick to get home from his official duties as a capitol favorite, I would wait and watch the snow.
    Of course, this only happened during the winter, when the excitement from the games had worn off and Finnick spent longer hours away from home. Annie would visit sometimes, often with cookies or bread with her, but mostly I was left alone.
     I heard my name called out, and I jerked my head away from the window. Finnick stood in the doorway, kicking off his boots and cupping his hand to his mouth.
    "Hello Finny" I said, happy to see him. He had been gone all day, he had left by time I had woken up. He flashed me a half smile, which indicated he had better things to do then talk to me.
    His heavy footsteps carried him up the stairs and to his room. I heard his old dresser squeak, the one he refused to replace. He said it reminded him of home, our old home. He said he could still smell the sea-salt on it. I thought he was full of it.
    "Did you cook any dinner?" He asked, hands still rummaging through his drawers. I knew what he was looking for, but I'd decided I'd let him look in vain for a little while longer.
    "Yeah, your plates on the counter..." I hated yelling across the house at him, especially when I knew he wasn't listening. Soon enough he came thumping down the stairs again, eyes locked on locating his now cold dinner plate.
     "Thanks."
I flashed him a half smile, akin to the one he had given me upon his arrival.
    "Mags stopped by today, she knit you and Annie mittens." I informed him. Finnick looked up from his dinner, which he was now eating cold and with his bare hands.
    "What color are mine?" He said, with a shit eating grin on his face.
    "Blue. They are on your bed."
He only nodded in response, and returned to his dinner.
    "The ring is in my room. You left it out again."
Finnick had bought Annie a ring, a particularly nice one. One that truly says "I want to be with you forever" not that a ring mattered in that sense. it wasn't popular in district four to buy rings, but Finnick had adopted some odd practices during his extended time in the capitol. What's important is that Annie would love him, fancy ring or not.
     But in true Finnick fashion, he couldn't stop taking it out to look at it. He would sit there, grinning at his purchase. Sometimes he'd ask me if she'd like it, and I'd always tell him that she would, and his grin would only widen.
     "It's probably safer there." He said, half chuckling. I smiled at him.
    "I haven't seen that in a while!" He said, more excited than he should have been. He was referring to my smile.
    "Well, isn't it your lucky day then?" I responded.
For a moment we looked at each other. Every time we did, I was reminded we had  the same eyes, the same hair, the same face. We even talk the same, to be fair, it's not a bad thing. It makes me feel close to him, and sometimes I think it's the only thing that kept me alive during my games.
     It especially helps Annie when he's away mentoring. Some years, they have us mentor together, but when it's just him, Annie becomes frantic, depressed, withdrawn. I think it helps when I come stay with her for that time, I think I remind her of him, and she becomes a little less sad.
     "Don't think I have forgotten about Tommorow..." he said, followed by my name. I rolled my eyes, my body stiffening at the reminder that tomorrow was my birthday. Every year he insisted on having a "family" dinner, even though our family consisted exclusively of Mags, Annie and us.
    "Yeah, we'll see if you get home in time." I joke.
    "I will, I will."
We're only teasing, but there's a hint of sincerity in his voice, as if he feels bad about not being here. I don't want to make him feel bad, the work itself is bad enough. That's why I cook, and clean. I want him to come home to something good.
    "I'm going to bed." I said mid fake-yawn to sell the whole I'm tired thing.
In reality, I was bored, and when I was bored I slept.
  "Alright well, goodnight, good fish by the way."
I was up the stairs before he could finish. Thank god for our paper thin walls, or else I wouldn't be able to hear him half the time.
    I slipped out of my clothes and into one of my father's old shirts. It still smelt of wild grass and shaving cream. My father always smelled nice, nice and strong.
    Finnick needed lavender to sleep. He'd crush dry peices and put it into his pillow case. I called it a waste, I just didn't like how much he used, I used it for tea after all. But all I needed, was my father's shirts.
    It took me right back to dream filled sleep. Now I didnt dream at all. Not even nightmares. Just black. I never dreamed after my games.
    I turned the light off and undid the braid my hair was in, placing the tie on my bed stand. Quietly, I listened for Finnick footsteps, making sure he made it to bed. As soon as I heard his door hit the strike plate, I closed my eyes, and let my world go dark.

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