The Hanging Tree

After: A Victory to Remember

The Victory Tour was nothing but hell. 

Every district was the same story. Poor people, poor place, poor dead tributes faces and their families who seemed too shocked to be angry in their grief. And each time I was forced to stare at their pitiful, hardened eyes as I rattled off line after line about the greatness of the Capitol and the weakness of the districts. 

I used to be one of you! I always wanted to scream. My ancestors fought to free your district! I was never meant to stand here. 

But at least those districts had fight. Worse still were the ones with people who seemed uncaring whether they lived or died, whether their children had been killed by me or not. 

Nightmares were abundant. 

"How did you do it?" I asked Mags at one point. "This is worse than the Games ever were."

She shook her head. "I didn't really, I don't think any victor really does. I've seen others break down into tears, stand there unable to say a word. You're handling it rather well I would say."

"Oh," was all I could say in reply. I was an idiot if it had taken me this long to understand. Of course this Tour was made to denigrate rather than build, to remind everyone how helpless they really were against the Capitol, including the victors themselves. 

I went through my morphling far quicker than I anticipated and by this point, it showed. 

"Jay, I say your face is taking on a very peculiar color," Georgia said to me halfway through the Tour. "And your eyes are huge. Maybe we should take you to a doctor in the next district. It could be a fever of some sort."

"No," I replied quickly. "I'm fine."

But I saw Yondrie's face out of the corner of my eye and I knew she thought I was anything but fine. 

Getting Yondrie on this trip was a piece of work in of itself. Georgia explained such things had never been done, could not ever be done, however much I pushed on the matter. But I saw my opening once she explained that every victor was supposed to develop a talent after the Games. I failed horribly at every endeavor she placed me in and when I quietly said that Yondrie knew how to garden, Georgia threw up her hands and agreed. 

I wasn't lying, either. Yondrie was good with anything to do with plants, be it herbs or weeds or flowers. It was her idea to grow a different plant for each district as a way to remember their fallen, one of the few things I was actually pleased about on the trip. 

Whenever I wasn't giving speeches or making appearances, I was with her gentle hands that taught me how to plant and trim and wake up from this world that chained me in hell. 

And it was better than any morphling hit I had ever taken. 

But then we came to District 3. 

I knew it was going to be rough, even before we set a foot in there, I knew.  

The previous district, District 4, had been rough. They had all hated me there, I saw it in their silence, not even a sound when I spoke and I understood why. 

I wasn't able to save him. I had wanted to say to Danila's parents. I'm so sorry. 

But when I came to District 3, it was rough for a completely different reason. 

They smiled at me when I went out into their square which was rough and torn unlike the technology that surrounded them on all sides, their forcible donation to the Capitol. They looked at me and smiled with pain on their faces and they clapped, every single one, as their mayor announced my name.