Death is Patient

On Blood

The travel to the train station goes by in a blur. The district seems quieter than before, like the insight of two twins being reaped has fallen across everyone's minds. Father didn't come to visit me. Maybe he wasn't even aware we'd been reaped. Last night he'd been drenched in spirits and in the morning he'd been gone. Maybe he was still working in the warehouse where they packed the clothes up and shipped them away, too hungover to realize his children were leaving.

It's not until we're left alone in one of the train's cars that we hug. Koltander Créme swaggers away to do something after he's said something I haven't heard. The ringing in my ears is still there, the words he says to me doesn't seem to make sense, like a different language entirely. I recognize the words, yet none of it makes sense. I just give him a stiff smile and a nod, feeling some kind of need not to hurt his feelings. As I watch the automatic door close behind him I look back at Fedya.

He's been crying, I think. Maybe I have, too. His eyes are red around the edges. For a long while we just sit there, on plush, green chairs, our knees lightly touching with the slight rocking of the rain. I try to read the depth of my own despair in his eyes. As we watch each other like you'd stare in a mirror when you've had too much to drink; intensely, curiously, with a lingering sense of surreality. I feel my senses returning to me. The steady thrumming of the train against the tracks, the clinking of the glasses in one of the cabinets. I become aware of the plushness of the room, richer and more lucious than any room I've ever been in before. The chair beneath me is soft, the floor is vibrating.

We reach for each other at the same time. Something in the air snaps and we get up, grabbing blindly until we're in a tight embrace. I sink my face into his shoulder and breathe in. He said it wouldn't be me today. I couldn't bring myself to be angry with him, and he doesn't mention it, either. It's all we can do, forgive what has been done.

"Promise-" We say at the same time.

"- to never hurt each other", I finish.

"To never kill each other", he replies, parting from me. There's a hysterical look in his eyes I can only imagine is mirrored in mine as I reach for a steak knife on the table beside us, already set for supper.

"On blood", I say. If I had a needle I'd use that instead, like we used to as children. Prick our fingers and watch the blood mix. Instead I cut my hand and then his. He only winces for a moment, but doesn't protest. We watch our blood intermingle for a few very long seconds, until a mixed drop lands on the ground between us. It soaks into the rug, the first sacrifice of the 63rd Hunger Games.

"On blood", he replies, our eyes meeting.

The moment is interrupted as the automatic door opens once more and reveals Koltander Créme, followed by a familiar woman with long, brown hair. We step away from each other, then, simultaneously trying to wipe the blood on our hands on the sides of our clothes. The woman is young and beautiful. I try to remember her name. She'd won the games only a few years ago, when Fedya and I were what? Eight? Nine?. She couldn't be over twenty. She looks us over with an unreadable look in her eyes. She looks bitter, I think, and shiver. Maybe she won't like us.

"I'm sorry", she says, instead. For a moment I think she's about to apologize for being late or something, but she remains silent. I'm sorry you two got reaped. She gives a slight wave to the table, asking us to sit. We sit down. I feel calmer now than before. I'd never hurt or kill Fedya, and he'd never do the same to me. We'll stay by each other until the end. Knowing that, I know what I can do. Survive as long as possible. I keep him alive, he does the same to me.

The woman with the brown hair sits down. She's got grace to her, like she walks with books on top of her head. Immaculate posture and serious, blue eyes. "Freya and Fedya, is it?" She asks. We don't reply. "I'm Cecelia. I'll be your mentor this year", she tells us. Before we can ask anything, Koltander pipes up.