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Hey guys, so for the rest of the chapters you're going to have to forgive my 'tense' errors. In the story before the books i wrote in past tense and wanted to switch to present for the events in the books to reflect more of Susan Collins in there. But it results in some awkward accidental sentences which i may or may not fix. enjoy anyway, happy reading!
33
A Promise...and a Really Bad Poem
"You have our word,' I say, putting my arm around Mags' shoulders, "We're ready to fight"
"Do we really have to do everything to keep her alive? Can't we just focus on the boy?" Johanna complains, crossing her arms over her chest. "She's just so...I don't even know."
"Yes." Haymitch responds firmly, "She's the weapon in this. She's the face of the revolution. We can't let her die. At all costs. Are you with us, Johanna?"
She shuffles her feet and then begrudgingly and then says, "You got it." Blight, her district partner, smiles and slaps her shoulder affectionately.
Chaff, Seeder, Beetee, Wiress, all confirmed their allegiance as well. Cecelia, poor Cecelia, shook her head. "I'm sorry," she says, "But it's too much danger for me. I'm not in this to make a statement, I don't want...my children to see me fight on that screen. I want to be at peace."
Haymitch kisses her cheek and looks at her through clearing blood-shot eyes, "If we can, we'll get you out and home to your family. I promise."
She smiles and pats his cheek before taking the stairs down from the roof. I watch her go sadly. It was all too depressing, all these great, glorified warriors I've grown to know all pitted against each other. But if Haymitch is right, if there's a plan, I'll follow.
Tristan, Gerome, and the other mentors that accompanied their tributes to the meeting swore to help as well, even if it meant death. It made me feel good that Tristan joined. I don't know what it was about him that constantly made me crave to see him succeed, but I did. I always wanted the best for him ever since he returned with me after Marina's death. I realize now that his agreeing to the plan also meant he could die, and then the happy life he built up with his Molly would all be destroyed.
As we were all leaving, Chaff came up behind my shoulder and whispered, "Mind if I borrow that little rope number sometime, hm Casanova?"
I chuckled and pushed him away, "You can keep it."
That night I sit with Mags on the couch and Tristan in the residing chair, studying the techniques of the other tributes and trying to form a game plan. I've kept in shape. I can still fight. I'm probably better off than the vast majority of the other tributes. Good, yes. For Katniss and Peeta. For me? It meant I had a lot of weight falling on my shoulders. Johanna and Blight would help...Mags...well, Mags, I love her very much, but she could only help to a certain extent. And it's not a very far extent. But she saved Annie's life, so I owe her my every effort to keep her alive until I no longer can or until we are rescued. Hopefully the latter.
There is something else inside me and I think it's excitement. My life for the past four years has found a purpose in protecting Annie. And while that is a wonderful purpose and not one I'm willing to trade out, I want more. I need something in my life that has to do with me, what I need to do and feel. And what I want is to fight. To change something about how this damn world works. To wrap my hands around Snow's throat and watch the light leave his eyes. He broke me first, then he broke my family and then he broke Annie. It's time for justice.
Mags garbles something while tugging on my arm that I make out to be, "What's on your mind?"
I shrug and squint at the lights outside our window. "It just feels really good to be taking..." I remember where we are and change the course of my sentence. An avox is watching me from across the room. "To finally be doing something. Life at home was growing stagnant."
