When Luck Runs Out

Volunteers Not Needed

There is nothing worse than knowing that your death, or someone you love's death, is approaching quickly and yet there is nothing you can do to stop it. As the week progressed the Reaping got closer and closer, and still there was nothing any of us could do to stop it. We stopped having family hikes in the woods, stopped having decent conversations, and by the time the last night together was on us, we stopped smiling all together. We all sat at Molly's house, since it was the one that felt most homey, with abandoned mugs of hot chocolate on the table, watching the flames in the fire place devour the helpless logs. How telling.
"So, the last night." I muttered. Molly just wiped at her eyes with her sweater sleeves, and didn't answer.
"Are you scared?" John asked.
"Yes." I admitted, not knowing who he was really aiming that question at. He and I were sitting on the same couch, leaning against each other but curled in our own separate blanket. Molly was simply sitting straight up on her own couch, as if too scared to relax. She was still holding her mg, but her hands were shaking and her usually calm face was extremely pale.
"Yes." She agreed.
"When does Mrs. Hudson come?" I asked.
"Tomorrow morning." she muttered. She didn't tell us the times, or what followed, or when the stylists came, which was very odd for Molly, who loved schedules.
"It'll be over soon." John muttered.
"No it won't be. It's long, drawn out, first is the torture and then the war." I muttered.
"A war no one can win." Molly agreed. We all got very poetic when we were upset.
"Well, the only thing we can do now is sleep, at least we can forget about it for a little while." I decided. John just laughed a little bit, and I knew I had said the wrong thing.
"We're victors, since when have we been known to sleep?" Molly pointed out.
"Fair enough. But we might as well try." I shrugged.
"Alright then, I guess we'll be on our way then." John decided.
"No." Molly said very quietly. John, who was in the middle of throwing his blanket off of himself, paused. "Stay?" Molly muttered. She was more scared than I've ever seen her, and I nodded for both me and John.
"Of course." I agreed, grabbing one of the throw pillows from the end of the couch and tossing it to her. Molly smiled thankfully, and curled up on the couch, cuddled in her own blanket and staring at the fire. John sighed, but sat back down, but I knew he wasn't disappointed. Maybe it was good for us all to be together, one last night, before everything changed. I got my own pillow and lay down on the couch, where my feet hung over the end. John lay down next to me, letting me wrap one arm around him to make sure he didn't fall off the somewhat narrow couch. He pulled the blankets over top of us, and just like that, the sleeping arrangements were made. After a while the fire started to die, but since it was Molly's house it was still plenty warm. I heard her soft breathing from the other couch, and felt John's chest rising and falling ever so slightly. He was asleep as well. But never the less, no matter how hard I tried, my eyes wouldn't close, and I couldn't fall asleep. There was too much on my mind, too much coming, I just couldn't live with the idea that soon one of us would be dead. It had to be me. No matter what I told John, no matter what I promised Molly, I knew that I was going to go back to the arena and I was not going to come out. The problem was, all three of us were thinking the same thing, and only two would even have the chance.                                                                    

              When I woke up it was good news. It meant Islept, even the tiniest bit was better than nothing. The bad news was that thesun was up, and when the sun was up it meant it was the next day, it wasReaping. The sun was illuminating the otherwise dark house, but there was a newlayer of frost over the window panes, so it made it almost seem like we wereunderwater. Molly's couch was deserted, but John was still cradled in my arms,still asleep.
"John." I whispered gently, just to get the process of waking started. Johnshifted ever so slightly, but I couldn't see the exact moment his eyes openedbecause he was facing away from me. I felt him take a deep breath, and I knewhe was awake.
"Oh good, you're up." Molly was standing in the kitchen, filling three bowlswith cereal.
"What time is it?" I groaned, rubbing my eyes. John rolled onto his feet,stretching out and shivering.
"About six." Molly sighed.
"Lovely." John muttered, grabbing one of the blankets that had fallen off ofthe couch and wrapping it around himself like a cloak. I was freezing as well,but never the less I got up and toughed it out. This was the day two of us gotdelivered a death sentence, but who exactly got it was beyond all of ourcontrol. Molly was dressed and ready for the day, hiding behind a daisy printsweater and a neat pony tail.
"Mrs. Hudson should be here soon." She decided, sliding both of us bowls ofLucky Charms. None of us ate, we just absentmindedly sipped our orange juiceand anticipated the day before us.
"What time is it?" I asked.
"I already told you..." Molly started.
"What time is the Reaping." I corrected.
"Nine." Molly muttered. Three more hours of happiness, if you could call itthat. It was the very opposite of happiness, but there was still that spark ofhope that I couldn't help feeling. Maybe I'll get picked, maybe there's anotherVictor out there I was unaware of, and he gets called. Then maybe he could dieinstead of any of us... The possibilities in this world were endless, but I knewthat in this particular situation there was no changing what is going tohappen. This is where my story begins to end. After about ten minutes there wasa knock on the door, which could either be my parents, John's parents, Molly'sparents back from the dead (most unlikely) or Mrs. Hudson. I really preferredthe latter. Molly went to answer it, since she was the most presentable, andwhen I heard a shriek I knew it had to be Mrs. Hudson. But this wasn't theshriek of happiness I had heard before the Victor's tour, when we still hadhope, happiness, and the will to live on life. This shriek was of grief,because Mrs. Hudson knows that Molly might be Reaped again today. John and Iwalked to the door to see both women in tears, hugging each other and rockingback and forth, the first time I've ever seen Molly properly cry. The stylistswere wiping their eyes desperately, as if not to smear their makeup with tears,but they were fighting a losing battle, because streaks already appeared. Mrs.Hudson noticed the two of us and, if possible, cried even harder running overthe best she could in the heels she was wearing and strangling us both in atear filled group hug. I didn't allow myself to cry, but still tears fellinvoluntarily from my eyes.
"I can't believe it, I just can't believe it!" Mrs. Hudson exclaimed, releasingJohn and I so that we could breathe a bit easier.
"It's okay Mrs. Hudson, we've got it all sorted out." Molly assured, wiping hereyes with a lacy handkerchief.
"What do you mean?" Mrs. Hudson whispered in fear.
"John and I are going in, and, if all goes well, he'll win." Molly decided.
"Wait, I thought you were going to win!" John yelled, but this only made Mrs.Hudson pull John into yet another bone breaking hug. I stood off to the side,not being able to process the absolute cruelty of this scene. The three peopleI loved most in the world, reduced to tears, hugging each other like they wereall going to die, which was likely. It was inhumane, it was sickening, and fora moment I was seriously considering skipping out on the pain, pressing a gunto my forehead, taking the easy road out. But I knew that wouldn't helpanything, if possible it would make everything worse, then my family would haveto move out of the village, John and Molly would have nothing to fight foranymore, it would be a mess. For the Reaping we were decked out in all black,John and I wore black suits, Molly wore a raven like black dress, and Mrs.Hudson even had black lace over her eyes. They weren't Reaping outfits, theywere funeral wear. We were attending our very own funeral, and we got to pickwho it was for. It seemed like the time flew, because, in no time, they werepushing us out the door, crying silently as they did. We were escorted byumbrella carrying stylists because, evidently, it had started to rain. Largefat drops of water fell from the cold sky, as if the very world were crying forus. We were escorted to the Village Square but, instead of being led backstage,we all walked onto the stage, the three of us stood off to the side as Mrs.Hudson walked up to microphone, dabbing her eyes as she went. The crowd wassilent, all wearing black as well, as if they knew exactly how saddening thiswas. It was a mass of black umbrellas, the rain bouncing off, the waterpuddling in the hole filled shoes, the best some could afford. The Districtlooked sad, sadder then it usually was, because it was losing two of itsproudest accomplishments, the Victors of District Twelve. We had given thisplace somewhat of a good name, us three Victors, we meant something, but now wewere going to that arena to be butchered like the animals in District Ten. Isaw my parents and brother standing next to the Watsons, all of which lookedterribly somber. The wives were in tears, the fathers comforting them andMycroft just stared right back at me, with a glassy eyed stare I couldn'tinterpret. Maybe it was grief, maybe it was hope, maybe it was just morejealously as I got all the attention. But I'd be perfectly happy to tradeplaces, because I'd barley bat an eyelash as I offered my brother up as a pieceof meat, willing to be sacrificed to save the true members of my family, theones who actually cared about me, the ones who made impacts on my life. ThingsMycroft had never provided. I grabbed John's hand as Mrs. Hudson tapped themicrophone, making sure it was on, and his fingers squeezed the life out ofmine. We were terrified, absolutely terrified, and so I took Molly's hand aswell, making sure she felt protected as well. Here we were, standing as one,facing our death nobly, as John would say. I felt my stomach twist in terror;this was it, wasn't it?
"Good afternoon, citizens of District Twelve." Mrs. Hudson started, her voicecracking with emotion. It was difficult to hear over the pouring rain, but thespeakers were plenty loud. "Today, we are sending two of our three belovedVictors back into the Games, as a message to the people of Panem. No one fromthe Districts is forgiven for the rebellion you had created, even if you docome out Victorious of the games. Our beloved President Snow reminds us thistoday, and to prove this message, we select our Tributes from our existing poolof Victors. They stand before you, as I'm sure you already know, Molly Hooper,Sherlock Holmes, and the new John Watson." Mrs. Hudson wiped her eyes onceagain. Obviously that entire speech had been written by the Capital for her tosay, because I knew full well Snow wasn't 'beloved' by anyone, and Mrs. Hudsonwould never resist to put a bullet in his head the first chance he got.
"So, for our first Tribute." Mrs. Hudson decided. My stomach turned and I feltlike I was about to throw up, but tightened the grips on both John's andMolly's hands as Mrs. Hudson reached into the bowl of names. There were onlythree folded pieces of white paper. Three Victors. Two Tributes. One death.Mrs. Hudson picked one up and I was sure the hand holding Molly's lostcirculation, but I felt exactly that way too. This was it. Mrs. Hudson unfoldedthe piece of paper and held in a sob as she went up to the microphone.
"John Watson." She said in a muffled voice. Mrs. Watson's cries were heard overthe pouring rain, Mr. Watson tried to comfort her, but it was pointless. Mrs.Hudson, Molly, they both started sobbing again. John let go of my hand,standing up straight, looking so white he might have crawled out of his grave....
"I VOLUNTEER AS TRIBUTE!" I screamed, in case no one heard me. The sobbingstopped, and there was a silence that filled only with the pouring rain.
"Sherlock no!" John cried, the only sound. But I was determined, and Mrs.Hudson started to cry once more. I let go of Molly's hand and walked up to themicrophone, looking down on my family as my mom collapsed in tears. I couldn'tfeel my legs, but Mrs. Hudson hugged me once more, crying as she did, and ledme to the other side of the stage. I watched Molly and John on the other side,both with tears mixing in with the spray of rainwater that made it past thecanopy that should be protecting them. John was staring at me with suchsadness, but also accusing, and Molly was staring at the ground, graspingJohn's hand in horror. This must be so hard on her, I couldn't even imagine. Iknew I had broken my promise, but I had downright told him that I was going toanyway, there was nothing he could've done.
"And, for the next tribute." Mrs. Hudson decided, plunging her hand in thebowl, where only two names remained. She unfolded the second tribute and timeseemed to stop. This was it, who was to accompany me on my journey to Hell? ButJohn and I agreed, it couldn't be him, so I knew it was to be Molly. I may goback on my promises, but John certainly didn't. Molly seemed to know it washer; she was trying her best to straighten out her hair, look somewhatpresentable...
"Molly Hooper." Mrs. Hudson read. I couldn't help but feel tears start pouringout of my eyes, so it was to be Molly. The poor girl, who lost her family, wasgoing to lose her...
"I volunteer!" John announced.
"NO!" I screamed, abandoning all civilized behavior and running to him. Ididn't make it far, two peacekeepers appeared out of nowhere and dragged meback to the other end, but I fought tooth and nail and John walked up to themicrophone. Molly was now hiding her face with her hands, I could tell she wasa mess, and Mrs. Hudson obviously wanted nothing more than to go comfort her.There was nothing this District could do anymore, everyone had been reduced tothe tears, even the sky was crying, this was the funeral for Sherlock Holmesand John Watson. I never got to see him as we both were thrown into the visitingrooms. It was exactly as I remembered, the lush velvet rugs, the shining woodwalls; it was the first elegance I had ever seen in my life. Now it lookeddownright cheap.