Songs & Seas | Hunger Games

XVII.

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AS SOON AS RHETT LEARNED WHERE MARIA HAD GONE, HE RAN. He scoured every corner of the room and all of the hallways until he eventually found her, leaning against a wall, her head hung low, one hand placed over her stomach, and the other clutching onto the stem of a white rose. No tears fell from her eyes, but her chest was heaving up and down.

The man didn't say anything when he approached her. He only took his rightful place at her side and put his arm around her shoulder. Maria didn't need to look to know who it was; she didn't say anything either; she simply leaned into him as she'd done many times before.

Rhett checked his watch. "Let's go find Cecelia, hm?" he rubbed her shoulder gently, taking the white rose out of her grasp.

She was so numb she didn't even feel herself nod. Rhett grabbed a hold of her hand, and he walked her back towards the ballroom. In an instant, she felt like a toddler again, getting brought from place to place by the loving hand of her Gram. She can recall how'd she'd see something shiny at the market and try to pull away and run to the dazzling trinket, but Lucia would hold tight to her.

Now she understands why. Just because something is shiny doesn't make it worth anything. It doesn't make it real, no matter how dazzling it may look.

She hardly noticed when they re-entered the ballroom. The mixture of noises of conversation, loud music, and bottles opening muffled together in her ears like she was underwater. She knew she was standing beside Rhett, and she knew Cecelia had joined them, but she wasn't listening to anything they were saying. Her head was pounding, and suddenly every sound was irritating to her.

"Hey."

She felt a hand brush her arm, looking over to see Cecelia looking at her with a sympathetic smile. "Let's go for a walk, hm?"

Once again, Maria nodded without thinking, just letting her autonomy go and placing her well-being into the hands of her mentors. Cecelia held onto the younger girl's hand and led her through the crowd into the back garden, where there were more quiet areas. It was a miracle either of them could make it out of that room without being stopped by some Capitolite wanting to discuss their victories or how pretty their dresses are.

The blonde found a private corner off to the side where the lavish and borderline gaudy plants would hide them from view. Maria's elbows hit the stone of the balcony, and she shut her eyes, letting the cool air take the edge off as she took her deep breaths. Cecelia had her back facing the view, her arms crossed as she looked at the younger girl worriedly.

Maria took in a breath, "He wants to control me," she said finally, her eyes still remaining shut like she couldn't bear the sight of the home where her personal demon resided.

"He wants to control all of us," Cecelia replied, bluntly. "And he does," she shrugged. "As long as you have something he can take away from you, you are his to puppeteer."

Maria let out a bitter chuckle, "Wow, thanks for putting it lightly."

Cecelia turned to her, her blue eyes gravely serious. "There's nothing light about any of this, Maria." She hung her head low, her eyes shut, trying to work out how to vocalize the complexities of being a victor to the fourteen-year-old. "When I won my games," she began quietly, "I thought it meant freedom. Freedom from the reapings, the games, the death. I thought...I fought, I starved, I killed, and now I'm finally free," she shook her head. "But it's been nearly seven years since my games, and I'm still here."

Maria opened her eyes, just barely. Cecelia's voice had softened—not gentle, exactly, but stripped of its usual armor.

"They don't let us live," Cecelia continued. "They... put us up for sale. Move us around like we're objects," She lifted her chin toward the mansion behind them. "Like we're something to be bought and sold."