When Luck Runs Out

You Can Never Escape The Arena

    "How are you holding up then?" she asked.
"Terrible." I muttered. It wasn't really an answer, but it fit.
"I'm sorry to hear that. The games, it was just awful, the whole time I felt so bad for you." Sara insisted. I didn't say anything, there didn't seem to be anything to say, so I just stayed silent, staring out the window past Sara's shoulder.
"You look a bit sick Molly, are you alright?" she asked, walking over to where Molly sat and patted her back sympathetically. As if electrified with some sort of horrible energy, Molly shot out of her chair, falling onto the floor with a shriek and scrambling back. Sara screamed as well, out of shock mostly, but I just stared, not comprehending things until after the shock had past.
"It's okay, it's alright, it's just Sara." Sara insisted, taking a couple of steps back anyway, just so that Molly didn't feel as threatened.
"What happened?" Mrs. Hudson asked, rushing over to where Molly lay, cowering, on the floor. Her face looked like someone had covered her with flour; she was so pale, she looked undead. What had happened over night since I had seen her, what she did in those precious few hours to turn her into a twitchy ghost was beyond me.
"Mom?" she muttered absent mindedly, staring up at Mrs. Hudson with glassy eyes.
"No dear, it's Mrs. Hudson." She insisted.
"Help me." Molly shuddered, her eyes not blinking as Mrs. Hudson pulled her shakily to her feet.
"That's what I'm intending on doing, yes." Mrs. Hudson assured. The scene broke what little I had of a heart, seeing Molly, who had previously seemed like the most well put together person I knew, in such a fragile state.
"They're going to kill me. They're going to kill me." Molly muttered, her head rolling on Mrs. Hudson's shoulder as she was dragged away.
"I'll stay with her." Sara decided.
"No, I need you out here to decide on outfits." Anthea insisted.
"Sometimes there are more important things than outfits!" Sara snapped, and Anthea took a shocked step back, looking scandalized even though all of those layers of makeup.
"Sherlock can stay with her." Mrs. Hudson assured, but Sara just shook her head.
"It's alright, no offence Sherlock, but I don't think you're the most affectionate person. Besides, Anthea needs to take more measurements; you were bound to have lost weight since the games." Sara decided, following Mrs. Hudson into Molly's room. Soon after Mrs. Hudson came out, closing the door with a soft snap and walking over to where Anthea stood, still looking hurt, looking at the outfit choices.
"She'll be fine." Mrs. Hudson assured me, but I nodded. I knew she would be fine, Molly was always fine. She was fine. As promised, Anthea tortured me by taking every measurement, even the ones that didn't seem important. She measured my arms, my legs, my hands, my shoulder width, how tall and how thick my neck was, my head, my feet, my stomach and waist. I half expected her to try to measure the brim of my nose before she finally rolled up the tape measure, writing down the last couple of measurements before joining Mrs. Hudson on the couch. They talked in hushed voices and I occupied myself by nibbling on a couple of pieces of bacon, sitting on the counter top and throwing a red apple back and forth between my hands. A couple of times I could tell there was a disagreement, because Mrs. Hudson would throw her hands up in annoyance and Anthea would start to bicker with her, then they'd both be on their feet, pointing and gesturing in the type of nonviolent fights only women were capable of having. I decided that even though this would be considered first class entertainment to the citizens of the Capital, that Molly's health was more important at the moment. So I walked over to Molly's room, pressing my ear to the door and listening intently. There was no noise, so I soundlessly opened the door a crack, peering in. The only light was coming from the window, flooding in morning sunlight. Molly was tucked under the covers of the bed, her eyes closed, she seemed to be asleep, but every once and a while her head jerked fiercely, as if she were having horrible, vivid nightmares. Sara was sitting on the leather chair, looking worried even though she barely knew Molly. And I noticed something, with a pang of remembrance I saw that she was holding one of Molly's hands between both of hers. I shut the door noiselessly and leaned against the wall, trying not to remember how I had sat in the leather chair, holding John's hand for the first time while he had a nightmare. I had been so nervous, so unsure. I didn't know how he'd react if he woke up, I didn't know what he'd do if he found out I was there, but I knew I had to help him. So many days I had bottled up my true feelings for him, and now I had lost him. I should've told him immediately, I should've cherished the time we had together like it was precious gold, which, I knew now, it actually was.
"Sherlock come over here, how do you like this?" Mrs. Hudson asked. I looked at the drawings with mild interest, seeing what seemed to be a simple golden suit.
"Ya, so?" I asked. "Same thing as last time."
"No, you see, this is different. When the light catches it, it turns silver. Like saying that even though you're still you, John is present, and he still shines through." Anthea pointed out. I nodded in approval; it was a brilliant idea, of course. But he should be gold, and I should be coal. He deserved the desire, the riches, I should be hacked at and burned.
"It's good." I decided.
"That's the best out of him you'll get. I would ask for Molly's opinion, but I don't think that's going to happen anytime soon." Mrs. Hudson sighed.
"She'll be better though, for the interview?" I asked hopefully.
"I can only hope so. But the last thing we need is for it to get out that we've got two mentally unstable victors in our caravan." Mrs. Hudson sighed.
"What do you think is wrong?" Anthea asked.
"I think she took a leaf out of Sherlock's book." Mrs. Hudson sighed.
"And what, went crazy?" Anthea asked. I gave her a look of insult, but didn't bother correcting her. I was crazy, after all.
"Drugs." I muttered. Mrs. Hudson hummed in agreement.
"Morphine doesn't do that though, it calms you down." I insisted.
"Obviously it wasn't morphine then." Mrs. Hudson sighed. I nodded, but still felt a bit bad. I always thought Molly had run on smiles and hot chocolate, not drugs and hidden depression. I sat on the couch while Anthea and Mrs. Hudson made a few changes, like collar length for one, the continuous issue around here. As time went on the Avoxes came in and switched the leftover breakfast for the lunch spread, complete with sandwiches, pasta salad, and potato chips. We all took a break, going over and loading some plates up before the fitting.
"I'll go get Sara." I decided, bringing my small plate with only half of a ham sandwich on it (which I intended to dump into the trash) and knocked lightly on the door.
"Lunch time." I announced.
"Okay." Sara agreed, I could hear her mutter something and then walk over to the door. "She's up, but she's delusional, she thinks her mother is here for some reason."
"Her mother is dead." I pointed out. Sara's face fell even more, and she nodded, slipping past me and leaving the door open.
"Sherlock?" Molly asked.
"Yes, it's me." I agreed, walking into the room and shutting the door. Molly was sitting up in the bed, the blankets all pulled out from under the mattress, and she was in a small ball, covering herself with them. She seemed to have a bit more color in her face, but that might just be the bad lighting.
"How are you feeling?" I asked with worry, coming over and taking the chair once occupied by Sara.
"Not good." She muttered. She seemed fine to me, she was talking normally and wasn't jumping away when I got closer. Maybe she just didn't think of me as a threat.
"What do you think happened?" I asked.
"Life, I think. All through the games I hadn't been taking care of myself, it caught up to me." Molly shrugged.
"Well, I brought you some food." I muttered hastily, handing her the half of the sandwich. She obviously needed it more than me right now.
"This is crazy, usually it's you that we have to carry out from public." She muttered.
"My turn is coming, like you said last night, it takes a little bit." I shrugged.
"You're holding up better than I thought." she admitted, nibbling on the sandwich crust like a little squirrel.
"Well, there's been some other things on my mind lately." I admitted.
"Sorry." She muttered.
"It's not your fault, I've done this one too many times. But please tell me drugs didn't have play a roll in this." I begged.
"Sherlock, honestly, if I wanted drugs I wouldn't even know where to get them." Molly insisted. I breathed a sigh of relief.
"Except my room." I laughed. Molly agreed with a small, timid smile.
"True, true, and you better share if the time comes." Molly insisted.
"But I thought drugs were only horrible mess makers that ruin your life and empty your bank account?" I asked, using her own words against her.
"Oh shut up Sherlock." Molly laughed, taking another bite of her sandwich, seeming ravenous, but too polite to show it. I sighed, tapping my foot a little bit in the silence.
"You know, I don't blame you for what happened in the games." Molly pointed out.
"What do you mean?" I asked. There was a lot of things that had happened in the games, and a lot of them were actually my fault.
"That Jeanette girl, she deserved what was coming." Molly insisted. "I saw the whole thing, it showed John and her, but it flipped to you watching a couple of times, to add suspense. I can assure you; things were said and thrown around here." Molly admitted.
"If I hadn't killed her, then maybe John wouldn't be dead." I insisted.
"There was no preventing that Sherlock. If they hadn't gotten John when they did they could've taken you, or they could've taken all of you. Then you wouldn't have the Greg guy to come and save you." Molly insisted.
"It should've been me, he didn't nothing wrong. John didn't kill anyone throughout those games, and I killed one of our allies and one of our enemies." I muttered.
"You killed the enemy." Molly pointed out.
"Still, I don't feel right." I insisted.
"Well you're not going to feel right, you know what killing someone..." Molly started.
"It's not that. I don't feel remorse, I don't feel...damaged, I liked it." I whispered, so quietly that I doubted Molly could hear me. "It made me feel powerful, it made me feel like someone was paying for these games, even though they were just pawns as well."
"No one except President Snow has to suffer anymore." Molly muttered.
"And what, we're going to take him down? The three of us? And honestly, between the three of us, only one is mentally stable." I pointed out.
"It won't just be the three of us; you know how you always talked about rebellion?" Molly asked, her eyes alight with enthusiasm.
"Molly, I was half joking, there's no way we could spark something!" I insisted.
"All we have to do is spark it, the people will do the rest." Molly pointed out.
"There's nothing we can do Molly, nothing will change their minds, whatever we say won't wipe the fear of the Capital out of their heads." I insisted.
"Think about it Sherlock, the districts converging, taking on the Capital, it would be beautiful." Molly muttered.
"Maybe you still are a little bit crazy." I guessed. Molly cracked a smile.
"Maybe I am." She agreed. She finished the rest of her sandwich and sat against the head board, some color returning to her face.
"Please tell me you'll be able to come to the interview." I asked.
"I think so. I don't actually get interviewed, so it'll be fine." She assured.
"Good, because I don't think Mrs. Hudson understands all of this, the chaos of all of this." I sighed.
"Of being a victor?" Molly asked.
"You don't see her having breakdowns, she never has nightmares, she's probably never seen blood in her life. And she tries to make it off like everything will be okay." I sighed.
"That's her job, she's not paid to be our friend and to pretend like she knows what we're going through. She's an escort, and she has to herd us around the Capital and make sure we look good. Just be thankful we don't have some wack-job that's obsessed with public image." Molly insisted.
"Like Anthea?" I asked. Molly nodded with a small smile, but we both knew we could have it much worse than her. There was a knock, and Mrs. Hudson poked her head in.
"Ah, you're up!" Mrs. Hudson said with a smile. "Sherlock, they need you for a fitting." I groaned, but got up, passing her with a scowl on the way out.
"You just rest up, this won't take long." Mrs. Hudson assured to Molly, closing the door and following me out to the living room.