When Luck Runs Out

The Memories That Remain

This time, to my amazement, it wasn't my screams that awoke me. Of course I got to revisit my horrible past when my eyes closed, but when I was jerked awake I heard someone else's screams, his screams. I hated to leave the comfort of my own bed, the warm blankets and soft pillows that the Capital so generously provided to the Victor's Village, but John needed me, and when John needed me there was absolutely nothing I was going to deny him. So, in the darkness, I climbed out of bed and pulled on my thin robe, walking barefoot down the cold wooden steps and out the door. If I had been just a little bit smarter I would've remembered shoes, because there was a small layer of snow covering the gravel road that stretched between the identical white mansions. So I crunched through, the chill making my feet burn, but it wasn't long until I reached the door to John's house. With the key he had given me I unlocked the door, squinting in the darkness to make sure it was in fact the key hole and I wasn't just scratching up the fancy wood. The lock clicked and I slipped inside, the house exactly the same as mine, except it was a lot cleaner. But I knew that it wasn't John's doing, his parents most likely, or even my parents, determined to make his stay in this hell as germ free as possible. I climbed the stairs and opened the door to his bedroom, where I saw a small figure curled up on the bed, the blankets thrown and the pillows laying on the floor.
"John?" I whispered, to see if he was up. There was no answer, and the figure didn't budge, so I had to imagine he was asleep. I closed the door silently, blocking off the small ray of moonlight that was coming in from the picture window above the staircase. I silently crept over, picking up the pillows and setting them back on the bed and pulling the blankets back up over top of him, as if that would be any comfort. He was having the nightmares of course, the nightmares that were the horrible side effects of having your life. John and I were Victors of the Hunger Games, a hellish annual fight to the death on live TV, inflicted upon our world from the dictator President Snow. This was John's first year as a victor, and my first year with a friend. I had been his mentor, helped him through the process and saw him into the games myself. But not only had I taught him how to fight, how to make fires, and how to get sponsors, he had taught me something that I could never have imagined, he taught me that my heart was used for more things than just pumping blood. The two of us, against all odds, had survived our games and ended up as more than mentors, more than friends. John twitched in his sleep; obviously he was revisiting his own games in his mind. But I slipped into the bed with him, wrapping my cold arms around him and holding him close. It was the only defense we knew to the dreams, the only thing that would calm us down when we had to battle our own minds. Immediately his stiff body relaxed, his breathing calmed down and he snored ever so slightly. I smiled slightly to myself, calmed as well, and with the combined effort of each other's presence, I fell asleep as well, and this time I didn't dream.       

           "Get up John, big day!" the door flew open and sunlight flooded the happily darkened room. Mrs. Watson was in the house, pulling open the heavy curtains and letting yet more light in to burn out our eyes. John groaned loudly, squirming next tome but not getting up.
"What big day?" he groaned.
"Victor's tour." I sighed.
"Ah, Sherlock, what a surprise." Mrs. Watson muttered. It was no mystery that she didn't like me, although she managed to plaster on a smile and a sweet voice when I was around, whenever John and I were close it looked as if someone had placed a large bag of horse poop under her nose. I sat up, stretching my arms out and sliding to my feet.
"Mrs. Hudson will be here any minute, and Molly's already outside making sure the house doesn't look like too much of a wreck." Mrs. Watson pointed out.
"Alright, alright, just get out." John groaned, throwing a pillow with terrible accuracy and hitting his mother straight on the head. She sighed, but obviously this has happened before so she took her cue and left the room.
"Be out in ten minutes." Mrs. Watson decided, slamming the door rather forcefully.
"What the heck do I do for Victor Tours?" John asked, sinking back into his bed with a flop.
"You smile and pretend that your life is great and that you're not suffering. Just laugh a lot and throw in how great the Capital has been treating you since you got back." I shrugged.
"That's pathetic." John decided.
"Yes well, you're pathetic as well, so it'll work perfectly. Now get up, it's a big day." I decided.
"Now you sound like my mother." John groaned.
"If you try to throw a pillow at me, you've got another thing coming." I warned with a teasing smile. John didn't move still.
"Come on, I need to go get dresses as well, and you should probably be up before everyone gets here." I decided.
"Sherlock come on, since when were you such a rule following little..." I cut him off with a violent push off the bed. John fell with a flop, taking a mess of blankets down with him. I couldn't help but laugh, but I knew I was in for a beat down if I stayed any longer.
"Sherlock Holmes I will saw out your kidneys!" John screamed, untangling himself as I laughed, fleeing out the door before he could get me. I was out of the house in an instant, and knew that John was too tired to go chasing me out in the snow. When I got to my own house I saw that the door was unlocked, which either could mean my parents or thieves. Personally, I'd rather thieves. I walked inside silently, just in case I had to bash someone's head in with the decorative vase that sat on the small table next to the stairs.
"Sherlock honey, there you are, we were worried!" my mom swept in from nowhere, giving me a bone crushing hug. Ever since the games, my family had considered it their sole purpose to hug me and treat me like I was just born. They would do all my cooking and cleaning and make sure everything was to my liking, and I hated it. If only I could smash them all in a box and ship them off to District two or something, then maybe they couldn't find their way back.
"I made you waffles for your special day, and I think you've got company..." she pointed out.
"You're my company." I growled.
"Sherlock get dressed!" of course, Molly Hooper, the only person that could make this situation worse.
"Leave me alone!" I groaned.
"No, we've got an hour until the cameras are here, the stylists are on their way and I think Mrs. Hudson's train just arrived!" Molly insisted. She was already in a white dress with all these fake snowflakes glued to the hem. I don't even want to know where she had gotten such an atrocity of a fashion sense, but she was trying to eat the last of her waffles, braid her hair, and bully me at the same time. I didn't even want to ask why she was eating breakfast at my house, but then again I'm sure her breakfast options were only cold cereal or oatmeal; she was never really the cooking type.
"So why do I have to get dressed, no one cares about me; I'm last year's Victor!" I defended.
"Yes, but since you and John are the star crossed lovers of the Capital, I'm sure you'll be televised as well." Molly pointed out.
"Fine." I groaned, pushing my mother away and running up the stairs to my room. I threw on my favorite purple shirt, slacks and a jacket, my normal outfit, but it passed the stylist's exams, so it was good enough for me. I didn't bother trying to brush my hair, because I knew that Sara and Anthea would do that, the two district stylists. I went back downstairs and tried to slip out the door, but Molly appeared once again, pulling out note cards from her little white purse that was dangling off one shoulder.
"Well don't you look like Kristen Kringle." I muttered, but Molly didn't have time for my sarcastic jokes.
"Here is what you are to say, if you are on camera." She pointed out, thrusting the cards in my hands. I flipped through them, seeing all of this rubbish that she had put down about how lovely it was that John had made it out and how generous the Capital was being by supporting our relationship and our houses.
"This is crap." I pointed out, but nevertheless I pocketed the cards, even though it would be humiliating to read it would be even worse to face Molly's wrath. When it came to the capital and live television, she freaked out, probably because she wanted District Twelve to not live up to its reputation, as a sloppy, poor, and insane district.It was true of course, I'm pretty sure the entire district couldn't afford one hotel room in the Capital, and the rats thrived more than the humans, but that was in the actual district, not the Victor's Village. Here it was supposed to be luxurious, it was supposed to make up for the hell the Capital put you through, but if anything I thought the houses were worse. They only reminded you that once your name is called; there is no going back to regular life.There was a knock at the door, and Molly's face light up. Before I could run for my life the door opened and there were two very girlish squeals, Mrs. Hudson had arrived.
"Oh my god, why must everyone be in my house?" I groaned, but accepted Mrs.Hudson's bone breaking hug. She was one of the select three people I cared about, and even though she was from the Capital she was one of the kindest people I knew.
"It's so nice to see you too." Mrs. Hudson said with a smile, but she looked generally thrilled to see us. It had been about six months since she had dropped us off here, the Victor's tour was always right in between the two games, and she lived in the Capital year round. Mrs. Hudson was our escort, she picked names from the bowls to be reaped, she brought us to the Capital and herded us around while we were there, and she also kind of helped our mentors out when the tributes (me for example) were out of hand.
"Where's John?" she asked, looking around as if he had managed to hide from her hawk eyes.
"In his house, where he should be. And Molly should be in her house, and my family should be in their house, and I don't even know where you should be, bu tnot in my bloody house!" I groaned, hating all of the company. I loved to be alone, the only person I actually enjoyed being around was John, and he was seemingly the only person who was absent.
"Always the positive attitude Sherlock." Mrs. Holmes decided.
"Have you eaten anything yet?" Mrs. Hudson asked me.
"No." I snapped.
"You should eat something." Mrs. Hudson decided.
"There are some extra waffles, and I bought your favorite syrup." Mrs. Holmes pointed out.
"They're really good." Molly added. All three mothers were here, telling me to eat my bloody waffles, I really felt like screaming right now, if only I had some of my trusty morphine to get me through this experience. But of course, Molly confiscated all of that and transformed my basement into a panic room for me when I was going through withdrawal. So I pushed past Mrs. Hudson and ran out the door before either mother could stop me, running to John's house and locking the door, pushing the small table in front of it in case one of them happened to have a key.
"Mrs. Hudson arrived I'm guessing?" he asked. I nodded, leaning against the wall and catching my breath.
"How could you tell?" I muttered.
"Because you were actually running. Usually when it's Molly you speed walk, and when it's your mother she's the one walking, not you." John pointed out.
"They won't leave." I growled. John was in the kitchen, sitting at the white marble counter and pushing around his cereal without actually eating anything.I walked in and went through his cabinets, not really hungry but settling with a couple of almonds his mother left him.
"Nervous?" I asked, sitting on the stool next to him and watching him.
"It's been a while since I was on camera, do you really think people care about me still?" John asked.
"300 million people still care." I assured.
"Not this again." he groaned. Last year, when John had been crowned Victor, there was a little incident. John and I had shared a very overdue kiss on the balcony of the Capital building, and some stupid fan had taken a picture of it. Anyway, it was posted on some website and since then more than 300 million people had either liked or shared that stupid thing. It was humiliating of course, we didn't intend for these stupid people to know about our love life, and I especially didn't want my family knowing, but now, of course, here we are, the number one couple of the Capital, we were like a soap opera over here in District Twelve.