Suffocate

I ended up on my back, the sounds of the world were muted, crashing back into reality whenever the waves grew lower and my ears broke the barrier. I moved my legs down, my dress was heavy, the water lifting it up so it flowed around my waist as I trod water. I glanced around for Finnick; he was closer to the shore, staring in my direction, the waves breaking around his torso.

“The tide is coming in.” He offered loudly, noticing I was finally releasing myself from yet another stupid daze, “And it’s getting late.” I glanced up, the sky was streaked with orange hitting dark clouds I hadn’t even noticed had formed.

“I didn’t even realise.” I said lowly, paddling over, feeling guilty that I must have kept him, “You should have gone.”

“And let you drift away?” He countered, smirking a little and wading until his legs were free and his feet met sand. I trailed after him, wringing out my hair tightly, my fingers stiff with cold and wrinkling from the water. “You really went into another world there.”

His voice wasn’t malicious as others could be at my oddness, it was casual, soft. I apologised quickly but he pressed a finger to my mouth, hushing me.

“Stop apologising, let’s just get back. I’ll head to my sisters in the morning, she won't mind.” He lifted his finger again as my mouth opened, pulling his shirt back over his torso as I struggled to pull my sandals on, the sand already rubbing between my toes. It wasn’t cold, but there was a slight chill in the oncoming wind, the waves growing almost fierce.

“Think we’re due a storm.” I said, almost perfectly timed as large raindrops began to fall. It was usual, with how hot it got for there to be hard, fast thunderstorms. I still felt uneasy every time, hoping there weren’t many boats too far out. It just made me think of my father and I was stabbed right in the stomach.

I came back onto the pathway once again. I had to stop it, this drifting off, spacing out. It wasn’t healthy, I knew that. I needed to stay in reality. But reality was just so twisted sometimes. I always got slightly better over the winter, the longer I was away, but all too soon summer came around, and the games again.

Since Mags last stroke she couldn’t take my place as mentor, and I’d feel cruel letting her. That, and the fact Andromeda never would, far too busy and happy. I was jealous about that, her husband, her baby. I don’t get why she got to move on normally when I felt like I was trapped.

Again I’d got lost in my thoughts. I opened my mouth, that so sickeningly familiar word on my tongue that I swallowed. At least I hadn’t frozen this time, I was still walking, wincing at my feet. “I’m just going to take them off.” I said more to myself than him, although he questioned what I had murmured before he realised.

I pulled them off, instantly my feet felt a little better, the sandy cement below my feet was rough but not painful. “Do you want my shirt?” I glanced up at him and shook my head, “Sure? You’re absolutely soaked.”

“So are you, but then I wanted to take off the dress beforehand.” I pulled a face at him and he withdrew although we started moving quicker, an odd little smirk gracing his features as the rain grew heavier with every minute. The clouds had formed fast, molding into a large blanket that stretched as far as I could see.

Even with the thick windows on my house the rain was always loud, it was going to be a thunderous night. “We should check on Mags either way, I said I’d cook so...”

“Dinner's on you then.” He grinned, “I’ll go grab Mags now.” We were close to the high white wire entrance, the words ‘Victors Village’ curled in the metal, shells stuck on random places. It was lucky I liked shells, living on the coast meant everything related to Four was coated in them. “That’s fine.” I told him, picking up my steps again, “Just come in.”

“Will do!” He darted across the road and to her house as I entered mine, shivering as the warmth hit me properly, as I suspected all I could hear walking into the living room was the hit of the rain on the flat roof. I hadn’t seen any of the other Victors Villages but I assumed all were different depending on where they were.

Ours were reminiscent of wooden huts that used to adorn here when the Districts were first formed after the uprising had failed. I had three bedrooms, a large bathroom and a smaller en-suite on the main room. A study finished off upstairs. Downstairs you entered almost onto the wide curving stairway, the floor all a polished wood, there was the living room, a separate dining room, the kitchen and the basement.

It was far too big for one person.

But I was glad it had a hint of colour, the walls were warm yellows or light orange, not stark white like I had expected when I first moved in. Some rooms were empty as I never went in them but I did my best for the rest to make it homely, adorn it with pretty little things you could buy from the West Port, there was an odd little lane of shops that made beautiful decorations and ornaments, anything from wind chimes and models to chairs and blankets.

I can’t imagine they made too much, but they had quite high prices, aiming directly at the richest in the District.

Sometimes I still found it hard to believe that included me.

I stalked to the kitchen, quickly grabbing a large pot and filling it with water, setting it to boil whilst I prepared the meat. I glanced at a cook book, memorising the basic instructions easily but muttering them to myself as I worked. Season it with certain herbs, a pinch, a dash.

What was the difference?

I heard the door go but didn’t call out, I was already on to chopping carrots and potatoes. They were an odd thing, potatoes, I wasn’t entirely sure which District grew them but I was thankful. Mags walked up to me, pulling my hands away and gripping them tightly, indicating to Finnick who placed a weaved bag down, I pursed my lip and opened it, smiling at the sight of the cakes, all adorned with icing shells and dolphins.

“Thank you Mags, they look delicious.” The icing was sloppy, but that gave it away that she had made them and that meant more than anything. Her hands were almost claws with arthritis and I was touched she’d obviously been in pain but had still done them just for one silly little meal.

I adored her just as much as I did Finnick.

I placed them aside, holding her hand softly again before I turned, continuing to prepare it. “You need a hand?” Finnick asked, Mags settling on a chair. I shook my head, “Sure?” I made the same movement again, chopping the onions and pepper before removing the boiling meat and browning it off.

Finnick kept up conversation, although he had to find it difficult, Mags struggled to do little more than gargle although after a couple of years of it I didn’t struggle to understand her now. The hands gestures and her facial expressions were enough. But then there was me, I spoke more around him than anyone else but even so, holding so many practically one sided conversations must grow irritating.

“I have to leave it to simmer, maybe about half an hour?” I wasn’t sure why I seemed to be asking permission. Mags smiled, indicating it smelt good. I thanked her again. I spent the time arranging the cakes onto an expensive china plate, fiddling with them. I couldn’t get them to lay exactly how I wanted, the patterns too contrasting, the size of the cakes all slightly differed so they wouldn’t lay correctly without one side looking top heavy. I was growing irate with it, my teeth grating against each other.

Mags warbled my name and I realised I was getting into a bad place quickly, tugging myself away from it and pushing the plate of my reach, linking my fingers together like they were chains.

“Okay?” Finnick asked, looking a little concerned. I nodded, this time managing to slip an apology in before he could stop me.

I did that when I was bad, got obsessed with little things to the point where I didn’t sleep, I couldn’t stop thinking about how everything should be exactly. I knew it wasn’t healthy, and I didn’t remember doing it before the games. Like a lot of things with me, that seemed to have triggered them. I needed control, I lacked it so much, about too many aspects in my life.

But Finnick saved me from the worst of it, and his advice at the beginning had saved my life, both of them had. It wasn’t a bond you could have with anybody else, I knew that. Nobody could ever understand that hadn’t been through it, had to live with that guilt that lingered everywhere and always.

“I think it’s done.” I blurted randomly, needing to focus on something else again and stirring it, adding a little flour to thicken it before being satisfied and grabbing three bowls. “I’ll do drinks then.” Finnick offered, vanishing below into the cold cellar and reappearing with orange juice. My favourite, and it was in season so I was currently hoarding a lot of glass bottles full of the sweet liquid.

Mags gave a little chuckle, and I knew she was a fan. Just a few minutes later we were sat in a comfortable silence, all eating, the only sound the forks in the bowl, the glass chinking as it was placed back on the table. It was good and I felt relieved, having a talent such as cooking. However unimportant it seemed it had to be perfect, especially when it was for others and I was glad of the assurance it was tasty.

They stayed as I washed up, Mags insisting I keep the rest of the cakes, aware of my sweet tooth and helped to wash up. I think it was more for the warm water, it soothed her hands. Finnick took over and I massaged them gently, not really sure what I was doing, but hoping it helped a little bit. She kept grinning at me so I assumed I was.

But then they made their excuses, left. Finnick with the money for my brothers, the wind lifting outside causing him to make a few ill jokes about blowing away the next day.

He was only gone for a while, but it felt like too long before he was back in his house and we fell into the little routine we always had. Check on Mags each morning, spend a couple of hours down at either the private pool of water near our houses or the beach. Usually a walk into town to stretch the day out and dinner, sometimes all in our own houses, sometimes together.

He was worried Mags got lonely but I saw past that, we were all just as lonely as each other. I missed him even when I wasn’t alone, it was sad, that I’d grown so clingy. But I trusted hardly anyone, felt comfortable with few more than my brothers and their families.

Before the games I was just quiet.
Now I fought each day to stop me from becoming a mute.

The days spread out in this routine we had, excusing the odd times one of us was elsewhere. I spent a couple of weeks over winter with my brothers, a trip to my mother’s which proved as awkward as ever. She barely spoke to any of us now, but she still accepted money happily from me.

I think she had expected me to die, I knew that was it. She had expected me not to return so when I did, different, a little warped she had already grieved, lost her troublesome daughter.

It was hard to take that back.

It was to a degree with my brothers, the games were never mentioned, we never spoke about my mentoring, anything about the Capitol. Just their work, their children’s schooling, and other less vital silly things.

I had to try around them, try and keep my stutter down, keep the smile on my face and my words fluent and strong. I still had nightmares, and it was harder to keep it secret, in their smaller house, the walls thinner. But they never said anything against me, whomever I was staying with.

My eldest brother preferred to act as if they didn’t happen, of as if he simply didn’t hear them. My other, whom I had always been closer to due to age, Thom. I think he wanted to talk about it, all of it but Luka had always talked him out of approaching it.

One night, when the air was as chilly as it got down here he finally asked. We were sat around, Phillus had gone to bed claiming a headache, and my nieces were fast asleep, excited that they were to go on a small fishing boat tomorrow, test their knots and play with miniature spears.

We’d come across it quite easily, talking about being tired. Although it was for very different reasons.

“When you have nightmares...it’s about being back there isn’t it?” He was quiet himself, one of the most well thought and spoken people I knew. He could have done so much more than a trawler on a large boat, although it brought a decent income. Phillus on the other hand was a canner, working in one of the several small factories scattered on the outskirts, she made selected produce suitable for shipping, exactly what it says on the tin.

It was his favourite bad pun.

“W...what bit, I mean...is the worst bit?” He seemed to stumble over his tongue unusually, he was as nervous to break into it as I was.

“None of it was good Thom.” I said a little sharply, regretting it, “It’s normally Tyger...”

“From One.” He finished, everyone knew about that moment, although they liked to skip over it when it was shown, they were still furious they had no idea what we said. Too far from the mountain slide to a camera, and in their rush to end the games they had damaged their own equipment.

We’d removed our tops in place of bandages for the deep wounds that coated us, the microphones too far from our mouths, and my words too muffled from our position and hair.

I could remember it word for word.

And I was determined to never forget, to keep it between us. “Sorry, I shouldn’t be...”

“No,” I shook my head slightly, shrugging further into the soft downy jumper I was wearing, “We never talk about anything, we never have.”

“I’m sorry. I think we thought it would be better if you forgot.”

“It’s not something you forget.” My tone ended the conversation.


Luine was here to ensure everyone was suitably dressed for the Victory Tour. It was pointless really, a conversation could have been had over the phone to decide clothing but she had apparently insisted on coming, dragging Naloh with her, the back of his hair another extravagant design and a new colour of eyeliner over his lids.

“Gold,” He explained, “After Cinna, you know, Katniss Everdeen’s stylist? Everyone is in love with him, they all wear him.”

“Are you wearing him?” Luine giggled, showing me her shoes. I pretended to be impressed.

“Honestly,” Naloh complained, checking his watch, “Where are Mags and Andromeda? Can’t stand tardiness...” As if on cue there was a knock and the two appeared, ready to be barked at by Luine until she had tried at least two dresses on each of us.

“I have the baby to get back to,” Andromeda moaned to me, “I don’t want to leave her with my mother too long, by the time I get back they’ll both be sick of each other.” I giggled a little, forced into one dress after another, Luine always said she found it easier to design for me.

I was younger, that was her only reasoning, she could get away with baring my legs or breasts. That and I was far more in the Capitols sights, it was better advertising for her, a better chance to show off her skill set. “That one,” She decided, “Leave your hair down but put some light eye-makeup on.” She sighed, “I should have brought the prep team.”

I assured her very quickly there was no need, leaving the others in her clutches and going to my bedroom, putting the mascara and eyeliner on, patting powder over my face and applying perfume as I brushed my hair into the thick waves it sat in.

It was enough, I wasn’t going to be on camera long, it would linger on us before they did the speech. We’d then meet them quickly on their way out, perhaps join them at the meal, view a dance. It was awkward every year, but I’d heard less this year than ever and wondered if it would be different as there was two of them.

By the time I walked downstairs the other two were done, probably with strict instructions. “We leave in half an hour.” Luine confirmed, “Marck is here for the boys.” In the months I’d been back I had almost forgotten the ring of the Capitol accent again. The clipped high pitched tone, the lift at the end of every sentence. It was irritating, although Luine was one of the only people I could bare from there. Even Naloh had his moments under his stern demeanour but they were rare and growing evermore so.

“It will do,” Luine decided, “Although I do wish you would use more conditioner, your hair always feels dreadful after what the salt water does to it.” I smiled, although she couldn’t tell it was ironic and grinned, her long blue eyelashes brushing her cheeks easily.

I would never understand why they dressed like that, why they did all the modifications to their bodies and skin that turned them odd colours, gave them strange proportions.

I stood awkwardly, letting her scuttle off to select shoes. I liked the dress, it came just above my knees and the fabric was light and luxurious, a shade of blue as she loved to make me wear to represent the District as she always did the interview nights of every game.

Blue for the ocean, genius.

I don’t think she had much going on in there, behind the bright hair and tinged skin.
Maybe that was why I couldn’t really dislike her, she was too simple.

The dress fit snugly around my small waist, tied tighter with a bow and the sleeves were styled as netting, again to represent the district no doubt. I kept silent, I would have to have been really irritated to ever say anything negative to her.

She was as harmless as anyone who shipped of children to be murdered every year could be.

“I think heels and more jewellery.” She pottered back down, shoving some into my hands, “After all, we’re driving to the Justice Hall, so walking isn’t an issue.” She tucked back a section of my hair and I tried to shrug away.

“Just put them off so we can rally everyone.” Naloh sighed again, for the escort he never seemed that happy to be here. I think it took more of a toll on him than many of the others. That, or he was just bored of it all. I had no idea what he did in-between the games, probably floundered around not too differently from myself.

I slipped the shoes on, let Luine undo and redo the bow even tighter so it hurt a little before she was satisfied, letting me slip the earrings through.

“I’m just popping over to Mags and Andromeda... poor Mags might not be able to do the zipper up in what I put her in!”

I went to offer but she was gone, Mags would not want her hands all over her but there was no point arguing, so I stood still, feeling more and more awkward, aware I hadn’t shaved or waxed my legs in a while. Thankfully you couldn’t tell, my skin was too tanned and my hair pale, and it was hardly like anyone was going to be touching them. I sighed, heading into the kitchen, feet already stinging in the stupid shoes as I took a long drink of the cold water.

I hated it, going up there, smiling for the victors and the cameras. It just brought the games back again.

Everything seemed too, and I hoped it would wear off after a few years...but yet I never escaped them.

“Alright, the cars are here. Let’s get out.” Naloh practically demanded, his heavily tattooed arms crossed over his broad chest. “Spend my life trying to get people to be in the right place at the right time.” I walked slowly after him, trying hard not trip on the steep steps and halting my a car.

It was weird to see the other victors. It wasn’t like we hung out. I didn’t speak to any of them more to say hello other than Finnick, Mags and Andromeda. The four men were still strangers to me, I suppose not having them as a mentor or partner kept them that way.

Finnick spotted me, walking over. He looked handsome as always, my eyes accepting the sight eagerly, dark well fitting trousers and a light shirt, clinging to the tops of his arms. I had to pull my eyes away. “Fun as always isn’t it?” I rolled my eyes at him, fiddling with my earrings. “Naloh looks like he’s about to explode.”

“W...We can dream.” I stuttered bitterly, earning a loud boom of laughter that made me jump against the vehicle and only encouraged more.

A few more minutes passed and although the storm had long passed it was cooler than usual and my arms pricked as the hairs rose. “Alright, come on.” Naloh demanded, “Split into the three cars everyone.” He forced a smile, his teeth were extraordinarily white, even more so than his eyes and it made me a little nervous. Finnick ignored him and clambered in beside me, Mags getting the seat in the front. Andromeda sighed again, fiddling with the ends of her short chestnut coloured bob.

Her skin wasn't as tanned as Finnick's and mine was but that was because she went outside far less, her husband didn’t have to work due to her wealth and I completely understood why and how she had made her house into a safe place, away from it all. A place to grow her family.

The drive didn’t take too long but we were instantly met by peacekeepers, Naloh frowning as he emerged from the car in front. “Sorry, we don’t need assisting.”

“Orders.” A female one barked, “With me please.” We were led like dogs to the roped off area, to the left of the stage. Again we were stood in-between rows of them, “What on Earth is going on?” Andromeda hissed to me, looking concerned, “We don’t need peacekeepers to say hello.”

The level of security had increased dramatically and I tried for several minutes to catch Finnick’s eyes, they were squinted a little, lines created that didn’t yet exist on his smooth skin. He was worried.

I swallowed, my mouth growing dry.

The mass of people were squashed as well, not allowed in a mass as they usually would, but instead they were in columns, split into sections, all held apart with Peacekeepers. Something must have happened, not here, we’d know about it. Another District, something must have happened related to the two young victors on the train hurtling this way.

And that something definitely hadn’t been good.

They arrived not long afterwards, although Naloh returned, having to lift his voice over the chatter and informing us we weren’t meeting them, we were just to stand here and wave as the camera trailed past. We were to say nothing to the victors, there would be no celebratory dinner, they would do the speeches, thank the families of the dead tributes and leave. I glanced at them as they clambered up, Shim's father had a deep black bruise over one cheek.

This wasn’t good. It really really wasn’t any fucking good.

I had to try and work it out, ring others.

It was one of the higher districts, they worked downwarda until the Capitol. I tried to think hard, which were the angriest, which had the least, or indeed, most to lose?

I heard the bell chime loudly, a small group of school children arranged by the front to give Katniss some flowers, dressed up to the nines.

I wasn’t aware I was shaking until I felt that small tight hand catch mine and I took a deep breath, earning a glare from a close by Luine who mimicked for me to smile. They walked out slowly, but the applause was loud, hands hitting against each other hard and fast.

The others around me did it gently, no Victor ever felt like they deserved applause.

At least not the half decent ones, Mags had said to me once.

I let my hands rest in the right position but made no sound, eyes travelling over the crowd. It was there again, over a lot of faces, that mood, that expression of quiet building rage I was so accustomed to. The peacekeepers had to yell for the large space to grow silent and they stepped up to the mic, Katniss looking nervous, tight faced.

I hadn’t spoken to her the year before, I had no reason to. In truth I hardly spoke to Haymitch, he was too drunk, too loud in his words whilst slurring others. He made me uncomfortable.

But he was a natural, Peeta, perfect for the crowds.

The Capitol would eat him up if they had the chance. If he’d been the lone Victor.

But she still stood there, it had hit me with the clapping that far more people than Finnick had believed saw her act as one of defiance, a hint of rebellion. It was so dangerous. She struggled through it, there was nothing personal, glaring at the words as if they were physically hurting her, her voice stifled.

It was sickening, the Victory Tour, no amount of parties and meals could make up for constantly being faced with the families of people who had to die for you to live.

She seemed to struggle with that more than him. But, he had excelled since his first interview with Ceaser. The couple of girls moved forward, exchanging a few words with Katniss before they stepped off and her face turned, shock grabbing it.

I followed her eyes, a group of about five people were stood tall, arms stretched towards the sky, fingers creating that symbol from Twelve, of respect, trust.

It was more than that now, it was a rebels sign, a sign against the Capitol, the games.

The peacekeepers near us shifted, one barging me into Mags and earning several cruel words as they forced their way through the crowds, grabbing the offenders roughly, screams loud as the couple vanished into the back of the hall.

I caught Katniss’s gaze for a split second.

She looked terrified.

What had she started?