Until Death Do Us Part

CHAPTER 2: Toughen Up

(Song: Runaway-AURORA)

Richie paced back and forth in the room he was escorted to. He inhaled and exhaled shakily, trying to think about anything except for what was about to happen to him. He had been told that his family had exactly 5 minutes to say their "last words" to him. The sound of that made him, yet again, want to vomit.

He swallowed nervously as he paced, wondering if his family even wanted to say bye to him. Probably not. But he waited. 

He flinched when the door swung open and his mom rushed in, pulling him into a tight hug. He immediately hugged back. 

Maggie was the only one he really trusted in his family. After all, she did have three kids to look after, so he didn't blame her for not paying as much attention to him as she did the other kids. After all, he was 16. He could take care of himself just fine. 

He could feel her sobbing into his shoulder as her tears soaked his sleeve. It was hard enough to keep himself from crying, much less be able to keep his family from crying. 

"Mom...don't cry," he said softly, trying his best to calm her down. 

It obviously didn't work, as she pulled back, tears still streaming down her face. Richie could feel his eyes begin to sting, and before he knew it, hot tears began to roll down his cheeks. Maggie quickly wiped them away with her thumbs, looking him in the eyes. She cupped his cheeks in her hands. "You can do this," she whispered to him. 

Maybe he could. But the chances were slim. He imagined every other family in a room just like he was in, saying the exact same reassuring sentence to their children. You can do this.

She then stepped to the side, allowing the rest of the family to say their goodbyes. 

Lilly was first. She ran up, hugging her big brother tighter than she ever had. "You have to win Richie! You have to!" she shouted desperately.

He hugged back, feeling his heart sink. He decided it would be best to keep his mouth shut, out of fear of saying the wrong thing. Instead, he lightly rubbed her back, hoping it would help at least some.

He let go eventually, stepping over to his little brother. He knelt down in front of him so they would be able to make eye contact.

"Richie? Where are you going?" he asked innocently, tilting his head in curiosity. He still didn't understand the full concept of the Games, and Richie didn't want him to either. Too young, too innocent. 

"I'm just going away for awhile. Mom and Dad will take care of you," he replied reassuringly, wiping away his own tears. 

"Promise?"

"Promise," Richie whispered, praying that this wouldn't be the last time he spoke to his younger brother.

He slowly stood up, leaving him face to face with his father. He could see the anger, the...hatred in his eyes. The only reason he wanted Richie alive was for the tesserae and the chores he did in place of his dad. 

Richie was the reason their family hadn't fallen apart yet. And everyone knew it, they just didn't want to admit it. There was no reason his father should hate him. But he did. And nothing Richie even tried to do could change it. It was almost as if he was jealous.

His dad leaned in closer, so their faces were less than an inch apart. "Win the Games," Wentworth said coldly, looking him in the eyes.

Richie stayed quiet, not wanting to move. It felt like everything was in slow motion for a minute, but before he could say anything, his family was being escorted out of the room by Peacekeepers.

Wentworth grabbed the collar of Richie's shirt as the Peacekeepers tried to pry him off. He could hear the rest of his family screaming inaudibly as they were aggressively shoved out of the room.

"You win, do you hear me dumbass?!" his father yelled at him, ignoring the Peacekeepers.

"Yes sir." Richie said calmly out of fear of getting the shit slapped out of him. 

He let out a small sigh of relief once his dad was pried off and the door was shut, thankful that the first batch of emotional pain was over with.

(Song: Flaming Hot Cheetos-Clairo)

It had been almost an hour as Richie sat on the seat of the train, watching gloomily out the window. His elbow rested on the ledge of the window, his chin on his forearm. Every once in awhile, when he was sure she wasn't looking, he would steal a quick glance of Beverly. 

The train was nicer than his house. The seats were lined with gold rims, the windows even bigger than his whole house. The smell of lavender and vanilla hung in the air, and the ceiling was made of pure marble.

There were all types of food plated on a glass table at the back of the car. He would eye the table every once in awhile, but had no desire to eat whatsoever. How could anyone have an appetite at a time like this?

He was startled out of his thoughts when someone tapped him on his shoulder. He turned his head, looking up at the thin, short man who had planted himself in front of him. He was unsure if he was supposed to speak or not. 

The man realized the boy's anxiousness and decided to speak up. "I'm Adrian. Adrian Mellon. Your mentor," he said, offering him a hand to help him up. 

Richie hesitantly took his hand, being pulled up to his feet. The train was so smooth that he didn't even feel it moving when he was yanked up. 

He had heard of this guy before. He won the Hunger Games, what...25 years ago? That was a long time for District 4 to not win the games, and a long time to have to be a mentor and lose so many kids. Richie had remembered seeing recaps of the time Adrian was in the Games. He fell in love with the kid from District 6...Don, was his name. Don Hagarty. But Adrian had lost him three fourths of the way through. They had been so close.

"Richard. Beverly," Adrian began. God, he hated being called 'Richard.' "We're going to get your training out of the way as fast as possible. You both have potential, and I can see that. But I'm not your friend, I'm your mentor."

Richie could see where he was coming from. It must be hard to lose so many people. Especially the one you love the most. 

Adrian continued on, "I'm going to assess you quickly before we move any further. So, say someone is coming at you with a knife. What do you do?" 

"Kiss your mama goodbye-" Richie stated with a chuckle as Bev rolled her eyes.

"Now is not the time for jokes," Adrian replied sternly, folding his hands. 

"Fine," Richie continued. "You could try to negotiate with the person before you ass flies to hell."

Adrian let out a small sigh, thinking for a minute. "Hm. I like the way you think, Richard. But you need to toughen up."