The Capitol's Tribute

It’s eerie how quiet a crowd full of people can become. As my name started to register in my mind, the sea of people seemed to have vanished completely. I felt Madge drop my hand and pull me into a tight hug. She was shaking so she might have been crying, but I couldn’t tell. I couldn’t see. I couldn’t hear. All my sense had shut down except the ability to move my feet. Slowly, they crept me up the pathway as Peacekeepers surrounded me, making sure I didn’t flee. But I doubted I could flee if I wanted to. My brain had completely shut off.

I arrived on the stage feeling as though my legs had weights attached to them as I propped them up on each step. Since when had the stage been this far up? I never remembered there being this many stairs. I guessed I was subconsciously counting down my steps.

Effie grabbed me tenderly and placed me on the center of the stage. She said something into the microphone that was probably my name but my ears had gone temporarily deaf. Only a ringing could be heard. Effie traveled to the glass ball that held the boys’ names. I felt ill, like I could fall over at the slightest touch. The name she was about to announce would not be my ally or tribute mate. He would be my enemy, one more person to kill to survive. But I wasn’t so sure I wanted to survive the Games, even if I could.

My eyes finally focus in on Effie’s face as my senses begin to trickle back. She looked about as sick as I feel. But, then again, maybe I looked awful. All the cameras must surely be on me, but I can’t bear to look at my face, to see the helplessness.

With a rush of wind, my hearing came back, “Brant Hart.” Effie announced regretfully.

I heard someone scream as my knees sank to the ground. Brant Hart. There was no mistaking it. My own brother was the other tribute. The screaming continues. It was heart wrenching and overwhelming. The scream went on and on until I realized it was me. I was the one making a scene.

“Please!” I shrieked, “Someone—anyone—volunteer! Please, help him! Volunteer!” I screamed on and on. My vision was blurred by my falling tears. I couldn’t image how desperate and weak I must look to District 12, the Capitol, and the other tributes. I was begging on my knees for people to volunteer for my brother so that I can kill them and not Brant. How irrational this all was. Who was going to sponsor a blithering wreck?

I felt a pair of strong Peacekeeper arms drag me back. I kept failing my body, begging and crying for volunteers but no one wants to go. No one wants to die for their friends or family. Katniss was the only exception to that rule. She was a rarity in the outer lining districts.

Then, Brant was there, trying to calm me down. Seeing his face—knowing it will be one of the last times I will—only made it worse.

“Rixa, Rixa come on,” He begged, “Let her go!” Brant commanded the Peacekeeper, “I got her, let her go!” Brant ripped me from the Peacekeeper’s unwilling hands. Immediately, he dragged me through the Justice Building doors stationed behind us as I choked on my sobs. They echoed hauntingly as I begged one last time for volunteers.

“Shhh,” Brant whispered, rubbing his hands through my hair, trying to calm me down. “Rixa, please, its okay.” But his words were empty.

“I-Its not o-okay!” I sobbed, grabbing onto Brant tighter as if refusing to let go of him would keep him with me forever. “I-its not o-okay!” Two Peacekeepers roughly wretched me away from my brother. “Brant!” Two Peacekeepers were leading Brant away as well.

He looked lost but he was being strong. He wasn’t screaming and having a fit. I wished I was that strong.

“Be brave, Rixa!” He cried as they carried him off to the room where he would have his final goodbyes. “Be strong. It’ll be okay.” He promised. I whimpered as they dragged my limp body down a hall, shaking from head to toe.

We passed by a few large, wooden doors until they thrust open the one I was supposed to stay in for the next hour. My last hour in District 12, ever. The Peacekeepers slammed the door behind me without saying so much as a word.

I trembled over to the bed in the corner of the room. Why there was a bed in the room I didn’t know. Who was going to sleep for an hour after they’d been Reaped. Sleeping meant next to nothing on a scale of things I’d needed right now. I would say a get out a jail free pass or to have anyone but my brother be a tribute with me would be much more helpful. If it hadn’t been Brant, maybe things would be easier. Maybe I could find some hope that even though I had no skills or talents that would be useful in the Games, maybe I could survive. But with Brant, I had no hope. He could win, I couldn’t. It was as simple as that.

The bed didn’t seem like such a silly idea anymore because all I wanted to do was lie down and cry. Besides the hard bed and a wooden chair next to it, the room was bare. There was a window but it was heavily covered by blood red curtains. Blood. I was going to see a lot of that pretty soon.

I took a deep breath, trying to calm myself down when the doors burst open and I began to cry again. It was Gale. The look on his face, the devastation, the anger. It was enough to make anyone scream. He looked like he was about to kill someone.

He glanced around the room, desperate for something to ease his pain. Gale grabbed a hold of the curtain and yanked them down. A loud rip echoed in the quiet room. He was breathing heavily, trying to calm himself down. I sat up and reached out my hand, beckoning him. Gale plopped down next to me and propped my head gently in his lap, his quick fingers messing with my hair.

“What are you doing?” I croaked. Gale seemed determined to not look me in the eye until he calmed himself down.

“I’ve seen Brant do this when you get upset. He told me your dad used to it to make you feel better. Besides, it gives me something to do so I don’t go outside and kill every last Peacekeeper in the city.” Gale growled, breathing in deeply through his nostrils. I wiped the dripping snot on my sleeve.

“I’m so sorry, Gale,” I whispered, suppressing a sob. I gazed up into his hardened eyes. One of his calloused hands was placed on my cheek.

“For what, Rix?”

“I promised I’d stay.” I murmured. “Now, you’re going to be alone again.”

His grey eyes swirled, softening with wetness. “I won’t be when you get back.”

I reached up and grazed his recently shaved face, “I wont be coming back, Gale.”

He grabbed my hand, squeezing it tightly in his, “Don’t talk like that! You will come back. I know it.” Gale said fiercely. His voice was so sure that I almost wanted to believe him.

I shook my head, my hair getting tangled in his hand, “I won’t. But Brant could.”

Gale’s eyes widened in new found rage. He wanted me to come back but how could he voice such an opinion? My victory means his friends death. “Whatever happens, nothing good will come of it.” I whispered. “My death means Brant’s life, and visa versa. There’s no guaranteeing Brant will win but he’s strong, he’s got skills. I have no chance. You have to let me go, Gale.”

He shook his head as a warm tear came down on my face. Gale sniffed, looking away, not wanting me to see him like this. “Remember what I said, Gale? No crying.” I muttered lightly. The expression on his face was a mixture of pain and laughter.

“So, what do we do now?” Gale asked gruffly, his fingers going back to work.

I blinked, the tears had dried. I wouldn’t spend my last minutes with Gale crying and miserable. It would only make things worse for him. “We say our goodbyes.” I answered.

He nodded regretfully, “You will at least try to win, Rix. For me?”

“Yes,” I lied. “I’d do anything for you. If only we had more time.”

He knew I was lying but didn’t argue. We sat in silence for a few moments before I opened my mouth again. “Do you think we would have ended up together?”

Gale stopped, looking into my eyes again, “Maybe. Maybe in a different time, a different place.”

“Maybe if we had more time.” I finished. He nodded, his Adams apple quivering.

“I’ll think about you,” Gale promised, “I’ll think about you everyday. I’ll even pray for you to return.”

“Pray? That seems a little extreme.” I chuckled, playing with my hands. “I’ll think about you until I die.”

“Rixa,” Gale sighed sadly but I cut him off.

“Don’t watch, okay?” I begged, sitting up abruptly. “I don’t want you to watch.”

Gale hesitated. It was such an unfair thing to ask him, to stay in the dark and hear about my death or Brant’s from the grape vine. But, I couldn’t bear the thought of Gale watching me die. Would I suffer? How could I live the last week of my life knowing Gale would be watching, hurting for me? If I died, would a piece of Gale die with me? Or would Katniss finally go back to him to fix him?

“Promise me you won’t watch, Gale.” I pleaded, grabbing his hand again, “Lie to me at least!” I cried when he stayed silent. “Tell me you won’t! I don’t want you to see me die or what I’ll become in the arena.”

Gale sniffed, nodding, “I won’t watch.” He was a liar, but I had no authority to stop him. I would be hundreds of miles away, incapacitated, most likely dead.

The door to my room burst open. “Time.” A tall Peacekeeper barked.

The false sense of security Gale’s presence had given me vanished. Fresh terror filled my core. The look on Gale’s face told me I was showing my weakness again. He pulled me into a tight hug.

“I love you, Rix,” He mumbled urgently into my hair, “Please, please try and win. I can’t lose you, too.” He placed a gentle kiss on my forehead.

I nodded, not being able to speak anymore. But, he knew I loved him as well. Grudgingly, Gale picked himself off the bed, slowly making his way to the door. As he looked back at my rigid frame, my voice returned.

“Goodbye, Gale.”