𝐆𝐋𝐎𝐑𝐘 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐆𝐎𝐑𝐄 ▸ HUNGER GAMES [ 1 ]

TWENTY EIGHT

TWENTY EIGHT -

I wait, still as the dead atop the cornucopia, until the hovercraft arrives to lift me from the arena. Instinct moves me, rather than thought, one foot after the other across the golden metal until my hands latch on to the silvery ladder and the current freezes me in place. It takes every ounce of focus just to tell myself to breathe. In out, in out. The ladder ascends into the hovercraft, and a group of doctors in white coats and masks bustle forward. I don't fight them as they guide me further into the craft, but I'm desperate to catch a faint glimpse of my fellow victor's form being pulled to safety behind me.

A doctor's hand on my arm attempts to move me but I hold back. I keep hoping that this is all just a terrible dream, and that Cato's grinning face will slide into view. We'll fight off the attendants trying to detain us and fly into each other's arms and never have to truly let go again. But the flicker of braided hair is enough to tell me that it's nothing more than just wishful thinking. That cannon told me everything I needed to know, and more.

This is my year. But it's easy enough to understand now, that it was never going to be his. I had the audacity to believe that the double win announcement could change everything – could mean that we might have a chance to go home. To be celebrated for years to come, to bring honour and glory to 2. But all they want is a show, Cato said that much during his interview on our last day in the Capitol, before we were placed in the arena. At some point, he must have realised. He knew the truth of it all far better than anybody in our District probably ever has.

And what better show could they ask for than two couples ripped apart by the cold hands of death.

The doctors lead me to a sectioned off part of the craft, and a Capitol attendant offers me refreshments. I politely turn down the freshly baked scones, convinced I'll throw up anything that enters my stomach, but I readily gulp down a glass of water. When a second is placed in front of me I drink that too. I try to settle down, lean back in the comfy leather chair and relax but I'm too wired to even stay seated. Cato. Cato. Cato. Cato is dead. Cato shouldn't be dead, but he is dead. I will never see Cato again. I will see Loren tomorrow, but that doesn't change the fact that Cato is still dead.

I pace up and down the tiny space reserved for me, the edges of my sister's pendant digging deep indents into my skin as I clasp the diamond tightly in hand. At least the slight pain gives me something to focus on other than the screams and the snarls and the cannon. Loren. I am going home to my sister. At least there is one promise I managed to keep.

We land on the roof of the training centre, and Katniss and I are led towards a set of glass double doors into the building. In the doorway, Sidonia and Haymitch are waiting for us. The first thing that strikes me as odd is that Sidonia Reyes, a woman who has exclusively worn all black in public for the last six years, is dressed in a fitted pantsuit the colour of winter snowflakes. The second is that both of them are grinning in a way which looks as far from genuine as is humanly possible.

I don't know whether Katniss is as wary as I am, but both of us seem to approach them with caution. Sidonia pulls me into a hug, but her grip is frantic as she whispers something barely audible into my ear. "Follow me. Do not ask questions until we get there."

I'm not sure where we're going. I'm still wearing our clothes from the arena, caked in mud and dirt and blood. But apparently a bath can wait. Sidonia clicks down two nondescript grey panelled hallways, metal doors locked and bolted on either side. This is a part of the training centre none of us tributes ever entered during our time here. I follow blindly at her heels, pulling the pendant back and forth against the chain around my neck. It gives me something to with my hands, and I like the strange rasping sound it makes as it works over the links. It makes me feel calmer. Or perhaps I'm just losing my mind.