Hunt and Chase

Watching the Clock

What was the only thing on my mind for the next few mornings as I worked, Chase Free. Of all people, of all things, she was the only thing I could seem to focus on.

The sound of her name being called by Effie Trinket's voice resonates in my ears. My eyes can only see the calm, resilient expression she wore as she stepped up the stairs of the mansion, instead of the bright, clear water below the dock in front of me. She's a distraction. She must be eliminated.

I haphazardly sling a net of grey flopping fish over my shoulder and trudge along through the white stone streets to hand them off to a butcher's hand. "Atta' boy," he says as I toss the fish off my shoulder onto a pile with the rest. "All in a good day's work. Help ya' strengthen up for those Games," the man said as he clapped me on the shoulder with his cold hand. I quickly turned around and thrust his hand off my shoulder, nearly breaking his fingers in the process. "Keep your filthy hands off me, you animal," I say in an attempt to stand my ground. The man backed off and went to attending his fish. I marched my way back out to the dock, nearly ready to quit my shift.

Then, Chase Free came back to my mind. The way her cinnamon eyes watched the crowd with a calm, roaming expression, looking for something to interest her. The way her ears never perked, as if she had no friends in the crowd that were called.

The crowd stared at her as if she was an outsider. None of us had ever seen her before. She was new, something odd, something else to focus on, a distraction. She had to go.

The first few days of work and being distracted were long and difficult but, it quickly became routine. I would work in peace for a few hours, humming a Capitol dancing tune to myself and then my mind would wander for a few hours and snap right back for the end of my shift.

Living with Amaris was, interesting, to say the least. She had changed since the war but, then again so had I. She became finicky and obsessed with trying to keep part of her old life. She'd spend hours finding ways to add glamour to her standard clothes and screwing about with her mess of fiery red locks. She did most of the cooking and cleaning for the home seeing as she was home more often than I was.

Calling this house, home, was foreign. It didn't feel, sound, look, anything, it wasn't right. I may as well appreciate it, in a few weeks, a death trap would be my home.

I'm actually glad I wasn't able to train, it gave me more time to read and figure out survival tactics. There was a small library on the inland side of District Four that I chose to spend my minimal free time in. I would find a book or two and engross myself in them for a few good hours. I'd learned all sorts of things, how to check a water source for poison, about plants and their harm or help.

I couldn't understand why I had a change of heart in waiting to live through the Games. There was nothing for me back home, it somehow felt like the final showdown was supposed to come back to me and Chase Free. We were connected, somehow, like we had been chosen on purpose. Maybe I'm crazy, being around these district folk has made me go a bit mental. I just know she's capturing my waking thoughts. I have to get rid of her.

Uoy pleh nac ehs ebyam tub