Into The Wilderness: A Hunger Games Story

3: Everyone I've Ever Loved

I don't know why I did it. Wait a second, maybe I do. I think...I think that the urge to thank him for what he's done was just so  overwhelming that I just couldn't stand it or figure out how to put it into words. Maybe it was that we'd all be going to fight to our death, and I don't think it'd be just as sincere if I'm watching him die. So, I did it, and I acted on impulse, something I rarely did. But it was worth it. "Let me explain," I said, before he could question me. 

I begin to explain to him everything he's done for us, whether he knows it or not. I told him everything my family's gone through, which seems crazy because we're going to die, maybe at the hands of the other, but I think in this moment, he seems pretty trustworthy. Besides, it's not like he's going to broadcast my family's situation to all of Panem, right? 

Somewhere in the middle of all this, his arm finds its way around my shoulders. I immediately recognize that it's his way of comforting me, because I know who he loves and it's not me. I realize that it's my sister. For whatever reason, I feel like he can't know that I know - somehow, it feels like I'm intruding on a secret.

I don't realize I'm crying until I feel his calloused fingers brushing the tears off my skin. Instead of continuing, I turn into his shoulder and weep. I weep for my family who'll probably never see me again, I weep for my pets, for my friends, for everything I've ever known, for everyone I've ever loved.

When I finally stop crying, I wipe my tears from my bloodshot eyes, and I turn towards the entrance. There stand Effie Trinket and Haymitch Abernathy. They're staring at us open mouthed as their eyes drift from my tear stained face to his tear-soaked shirt. For just an instant, I could've sworn I saw Effie's eyes glisten with tears, but it happened so quickly I was sure I'd imagined it. She clears her throat and blinks furiously before saying in a clear voice, "Be ready for dinner in an hour, okay?" We both nod, unable to say anything more. She turns on her heel and exits the room.

Haymitch, however, shows no sign of emotion. He steps forward and circles us like a pair of hungry vultures. I wonder how he perceives us...to him, I'm just a sniveling, cowardly fool who knows something or other about healing, and I am a decent shot when it comes to knives and a bows and arrows. Peeta, on the other hand, is brave and kind, and is incredibly strong. I've seen him throw around hundred-pound bags of flower as if they were nothing more than a rag doll.

He doesn't say anything for another few minutes before Peeta finally says, "So?" He heaves a heavy sigh and runs his hand through his dirty blonde hair before taking another swig from his glass of clear liquid which definitely doesn't seem to be water. Peeta and I both continue to penetrate him with our gazes prodding him to say something before he finally says, "Well, you're not too bad...get you to the stylists and you'll be good enough, I suppose. Not much more we can ask for."

After one of many pointless conversations, me and Peeta hug and head off to our separate compartments. It's so much nicer than I've ever used to: it has a shower, a bedroom, a walk in closet filled with practical clothes, and an adjoining hallway to the dining room. It's ironic that they waste all of these resources on a majority of people that they've just sentenced to death.

As I'm taking the first shower I've ever had, I finally feel at ease with myself. I realize that this is odd, considering my circumstances. Let's face it: I'll probably never see District 12 again, I'll never have a chance at love, at marriage, at living, at breathing...

Before I know it I'm sitting on the shower floor in tears - again. I feel the water wash around me, but instead of the feeling of drowning, I feel oddly comforted. Eventually, I regain my bearings and stand, sniffle, and step out of the shower and am greeted by the warm, fluffy towel that dries me off.

I go to the walk-in closet and grab a pair of sweatpants and a nice-fitting t-shirt. I braid my hair back and realize I'm just about late for dinner. Luckily my tear-stained face is fresh as a daily. I suddenly remember my Mockingjay pin and pin it to my shirt.

When I get there, everybody seems to be waiting for me. I blush and apologize profusely for being late. I am seated, and suddenly these servants appear with an endless array of food that my mouth waters at the sight of.

Evidently in the Capitol, food comes in courses. It's all just so amazingly mouthwatering I just can't help but ask for more. So I do, and I'm rejected; multiple times might I add. I can feel myself start to fill up, and eventually am too full to eat another thing. I tell Effie this, and she tells me that I should go to bed, that we're arriving at the Capitol tomorrow.

My stomach churns uneasily at the mention of the Capitol. The Capitol means Training Center. And the Training Center means...well, training. And that means only one thing: The Hunger Games.