The Mentor. (Cato Hadley)

Chapter Four.

Rewritten 03.14.2023

Growing up, my education wasn't held as an importance to the head of the Rivers family. My father was ashamed; his brother perished in the Games, and he, like Augustus, was never deemed good enough to volunteer. Instead of mourning the loss of his brother, my father called him weak. He was absolutely ashamed to the core of being related to such a failure, one who could be so embarrassing as to die in the Games. He never spoke of his brother; he was too much of an embarrassment.

I wouldn't say my childhood had been great. The pressure my father put on his children was often times too much to bare, but thankfully for my siblings, it ended with me. When I volunteered, when I entered the Hunger Games and came out as a winner, it seemed as though he was satisfied. He finally got the fame he felt he deserved, claiming that I effectively erased the embarrassment and shame that stood over this family like a rain cloud. He told me I was the sun that brightened this family, and for once in my life I felt as though I had a father. That didn't last very long, though, because when my tribute last year sacrificed herself for a watered down version of what she thought was love, the shame returned. Today, I have no relationship with my father, no relationship with my family at all really.

I live in a huge mansion, in Victor's Village, all by myself. My father - hardened to the core due to the twenty years he spent as a vile, merciless Peacekeeper in District Eleven - is possibly the most evil man I've ever known. His kids are objects to him, used solely for his own successes in life. My poor mother is locked into a loveless marriage, to a man twenty years her senior. My mother's father is a Capitol citizen, as far as I'm aware the man is still there. During an awards ceremony for the Peacekeepers, where my Capitol mother met my father, their marriage was made official. Of course, I'm not sure if my mother was fully aware that her marriage meant she would be dragged from the Capitol into life in the districts. I'm sure she thought the top ranking Peacekeeper would be granted a wonderful Capitol life; but President Snow decided the Capitol would be better off if my father used his knowledge as a Peacekeeper and from his life of District Two to a high paying job running the Nut.

As of right now, I stare straight forward, my eyes tracing the design on the wallpaper as I down another entire bottle of alcohol by myself.

"You should stop drinking now," Vibiana says excitedly in her high-pitched, chipper voice. "It's going to be quite the amazing day! We have reached the Capitol!"

In response to her absolutely annoying antics, I take another swig from the bottle, drowning my sorrows in the favorable liquid that burns my throat. Cato and Clove enter the dining car, where I'm currently using my substance of choice to hide the pain coursing through my veins.

The two stare out the window in awe, the sight of seeing the Capitol for the first time paralyzing them with amazement. The Capitol never fails to impress me, but I never let that show. They don't deserve to see it, they don't deserve to affect my thoughts and emotions the way they do. I guess in a different world, in a perfect world, I would be one of the Capitol spectators, excited for the Hunger Games each year and making bets on which tribute were to win. I'm not in a perfect world though, my world is far from perfect. Instead of living a luxurious lifestyle, with no fear or guilt in the world, I'm instead littered with trauma. With post traumatic stress, fear, anxiety, and depression. Barely able to make my life something good. As long as I'm tied up in these games, my life will never be anything good.

The Capitol is shocking when it meets the eye; various bright colors making up the sparkling buildings that are built tall into the sky. The sun beats upon brand new cars, the ridiculously dressed culture of the Capitol people dotting every single street. The people who have never had to miss a meal, never had to take a life, never had to have an anxious pit in their stomach as the fear finally takes over.. never had to sell their body and soul for the President.

I took out twelve tributes on my own, one of the highest amounts any one tribute has ever done. Every time I enter the Capitol, their faces flash through my mind, their voices begging for mercy, begging me to spare their lives causing me to almost breakdown. Nobody wins the Games, that much is apparent to me, but of course I had to learn that the hard way. Although I hold resentment for Snow, for the things he forces me to do, I feel as though it's my karma. I took all of those lives, just in the spirit of a sadistic game, and now I'm paying the price. Both tributes from District Ten, the District Twelve male, both from Seven, and Eight. Eleven male, Six female, Three male, Four female, Nine female. All of those lives, all stolen by me. At the start of the Games, it was merely because I wanted to win. I wanted the pride, the fame, the fortune, and the bragging rights that come along with being a Hunger Games Victor.

It was two days into my game that I realized what I know now; it's not honorable winning the Games, it's not something to brag about, and it's most definitely not something to take pride in. The fame and fortune aren't worth the pain and suffering a Victor has to go through after they win their game. And, it's definitely not worth the looming threat of President Snow. As shown in the case of Johanna Mason, the Victor of the 71st Hunger Games, if you don't do what Snow says he makes an example out of you by killing your entire family. So I do everything Snow says, with no fight and no disagreement, because although my family doesn't speak to me, I don't want them dead. Every time I have to endure the things I do, I think about ending it all for myself, but I'm fully aware that even doing that will end my family.

The Capitol citizens around the train station begin to smile and cheer eagerly, recognizing the tribute train pulling into the station. I wonder if we're first to arrive, that wouldn't surprise me. "Smile and wave," I order the still gawking tributes, gesturing to the brightly colored Capitol. "Sponsors are the key if you want to stay alive."

I notice the Remake Center in the backdrop of the train station, silently laughing at what the boy and girl are going to go through over the course of the day. I hope, for their sake, that their stylist has more of a creative mind than mine did. My costume was terrible. The stylists spray painted my district partner and I gold, nothing else on but the gold spray paint. When I inquired about it, they informed me that it was a suggestion from President Snow. As everyone in Panem knows, President Snow doesn't make suggestions; his word is law. If only I thought about what the foreshadowing of my costume really was, a naked fourteen year old presented to the entirety of the Capitol. If I had known what I do now, if I had realized what I as a Victor would be put through, I would've let myself die during the 72nd Hunger Games.

The tributes are led away by their stylists, Brutus and I looking at each other with a small smirk on each of our faces. We clink our bottles - matching bottles of white whiskey - the two of us undoubtedly thinking of our times with our stylists. Of course, different stylists due to our large age gab, but the same routine nonetheless.

"To bringing one home this year!" He laughs, a true look of joy on his face as he raises his bottle. We clink our bottles together as we walk to the car that would bring us to the Tribute Center, Capitol guards escorting us.

"To bringing one home," I raise my own bottle, an array of thoughts rushing through my mind. I didn't exactly know whether I wanted to bring one home. I don't know if I want to subject someone to the same fate I had to endure. I wish the Capitol would be defeated.

A/N: you may have noticed that Marblyn barely refers to Cato and Clove by their names, that's on purpose. She doesn't use their names because she doesn't want to see them as human, it'll just further push her into deep trauma and suffering because of her already immense hatred for the Games and the killing of children. Not only that, but she also holds a certain level of resentment for them both, and is struggling because she knows it's because they've been brainwashed, like she was when she volunteered. Cato and Clove believe being a tribute is an honor, a complete opposite of what Marblyn has learned. And, although knowing that it's not entirely their fault, she hates them for it.

also, even though the line "to bringing one home this year" was written in the original version of this I wrote in 2014, the only thing I could think of while typing that was "bring it on home John B" 😂 with that being said, I also have a JJ Maybank fanfiction on my page if you're interested!