lost | the hunger games

• viii •

❝man, you are one butt-load of sunshine, let me tell you.❞

minho, the maze runner

☾

Most of my nightmares don't wake me up. That night, after the first day of training, it just hit me hard, I guess. I could feel my hair sticking to my forehead and my neck as I escaped my room. Before I left the floor, I grabbed my robe and wrapped it around myself.

I quietly closed my door, stepping out into the main quarters. Snoring quietly, I found Finnick and Annie wrapped up in each other's arms, sleeping peacefully on the couch. Annie's head rested in the crook of Finnick's neck, and he had an arm draped around her. I swear those two were made for each other.

Smiling slightly, I slipped out to the hallway, pressing the elevator button to go straight to the roof. As I rode up, I let my head rest against the glass, closing my eyes for just the tiniest bit of hope for peace. No such luck. With all the light captured underneath my eyelids, swirling and shooting around, it was more like chaos, really.

The elevator dinged, announcing that I had reached the top of the building. Immediately, the chill of night enveloped me. And I welcomed it with open arms. Every year, I'd come up to the roof of the building at night, and it was my place. No one ever came up here. But this year we were in a different building because of the Quarter Quell. Instead of the small botany garden that was up there, there was a beautiful pool with fluorescent lights on the floor.

One of the reasons why I loved the roof so much was because of the isolation. It wasn't exactly private, due to the cameras, but with the wind howling and the significant lack of people, it was [almost privately] mine. I inhaled and exhaled slowly as I sat at the edge of the pool that overlooked the city. I let my legs drape into the pool, feeling the muscles untense. I rolled my shoulders, feeling the knots in my back.

What the hell am I doing? I thought. I lid back on the smooth stone with a thump, letting it cool my head. I pressed the heel of my palms on my eyes.

"What's that tune?"

I opened my eyes to find a slightly buzzed Haymitch Abernathy, the only District Twelve Victor before the lovebirds. Haymitch still had his clothes on from the parade, an almost empty glass in one hand and a box in the other.

"What are you doing here?" I asked tiredly.

"Finnick told me I'd find you here. I don't know why the hell you'd choose here. But I guess I get it," he waved around his glass lazily. "It's fun to isolate yourself here, isn't it? Nobody but yourself and your peaceful little thoughts."

"Is this about something important you wanted to talk to me about, Haymitch?" I rolled my eyes. "Or did you just come up here hoping to find more booze?"

He feigned a wounded look. "Darling, you offend me. And I come bearing gifts!"

I quirked an eyebrow. Haymitch huffed, placing his glass down. He snapped his fingers and pulled out a wrapped box. "I've already given Finnick his gold bracelet. This is yours."

I caught the box with one hand, curious to see what was inside. A golden chain necklace laid in a bed of velvet. There was a scalloped shell at the center of it, perfectly sculpted. The most interesting was that the shell opened up, revealing a space for something—my pearl, I assumed. It was quite beautiful.

"This is it?" I assumed. I meant the symbol of the Golden Alliance for the rebellion in the arena. Despite the fact that the cameras didn't pick up audio, I didn't trust that nobody was listening.

Haymitch nodded, scratching his ear lazily. "Gold bling equals allies in the arena. Make sure she sees it easily enough. The girl would skewer you at first sight unless you're Peeta Mellark."

I smirked. "I'll be sure to watch out for that firecracker."

"That's probably the most accurate name I've heard for her."

My lip twitched. With a sigh, I lifted my legs out of the pool and walked to the edge of the roof, admiring the Capitol lights in awe and disgust. This was the only type of peaceful silence I got when I came to the Capitol. Every other time I'd be wearing my mask or I'd be tense from fear that I'd end up making the wrong move in front of the president. And then what? It was the Quarter Quell, and I had to be the most careful I had ever been.

"She won't hesitate." I glanced curiously at Haymitch. He looked me dead in the eye. "If she thinks it'll save Peeta, she won't hesitate to kill you or Finnick."

"I have a feeling that would apply to you as well."

"None of us mean as much to her as her family, Peeta included," Haymitch snorted.

"You can expect the same from me too," I deadpanned.

He raised his glass to that, taking a swig of his drink. Once again, a comfortable quiet settled over us. A simple understanding to reach a common goal had put us on the same page after those few years of fighting for our tributes during the Games.

I recalled the question that had brought Haymitch to my attention earlier. "What's that tune?" I didn't even realize I was humming then. A smile drifted to my lips as I picked up where I left off, fondly remembering my brother singing to me at sunset a long time ago.

• • •

THE SECOND DAY

When I reached the training center, I immediately strode towards the scythes. I was about to grab them, but stopped short from a glint at the corner of my eye. On the left side of the weapons rack, were various tridents. Some were four pronged into a square, others three into a triangle, or lined up like a pitchfork. The tridents ranged from two to five prongs, and three to six feet long. They were all perfectly balanced and suitable weapons, but only one captured my interest.

I stood directly in front of it, my fingers grazed the body of the trident slightly, before completely wrapping my hand around it and taking it off the rack. I dipped the the sides back and forth testing it's perfect balance. I wanted to use it, feel the familiarity of the trident again, and I would've.

I almost chose it as my training weapon. But then I saw blood on the handle, on the back of my hand. I saw Ben, his body pierced through the prongs. His eyes were bulging out f his head. I could see the fear in them as his mouth spurted with his blood. My eyes widened and my breaths became labored. My lungs tightened.

Someone placed their hand on my shoulder. "Hey, are you okay?"

I grabbed their wrist and twisted it, taking it off my shoulder. I raised the trident to the attacker's throat, but lowered it when I saw Amos's face.

"Woah, woah, Pallas!"

I blinked several times before my vision focused, finding Peeta's face instead of my old mentor's. I let go of his wrist and backed away. Surprised by my loss of time, I backed away, putting my trident down. I rubbed a hand over my mouth.

"You really need to stop doing that, Peeta."

"Sorry," he apologized, rubbing the back of his neck. "I was only concerned."

"Whatever. I'm fine," I snapped. He flinched at my icy tone, and I sighed, knowing that I was supposed to get him to trust me. I resigned. "Sorry. I just got lost in time, that's all."

"It's alright . . ."

"Did you need anything?"

"Oh! Right! I came over to ask if you wanted to learn how to camouflage quickly, you know, after the sparring lesson yesterday . . ." Peeta trailed awkwardly, obviously regretting the decision and his words. I laughed at his expense.

"I still want that lesson." I put down the trident. I didn't realize how shallow my breaths were while holding it until I inhaled a deep breath of air. I forced all thoughts and visions of Ben out of my mind and walked over to the nature station, gesturing with my head to Peeta. "Come on."

• • •

ick.