Suffocate

The stunned silence lasted until the doors had closed and the love struck couple from District Twelve had vanished. And I clasped tightly onto Mags. Finnick found us, arm heavy around my shoulders.

The peace keepers had descended on everyone; batons were raised as they scrambled to get away from the growing chaos. I could hear the five who had dared to lift their arms, their yelps of pain. I could imagine the blood hitting the sandy cobbled ground.

I felt it over me, the trickling down my face from where the rock had landed. The tear in my thigh as I clung desperately to his fingers. They were slipping from me, I was going to lose him, let Tyger fall into the abyss. But he gripped back tightly, the screams weren’t ours.

“Elenia... move!” I was wrenched harshly forward, but my arm protested, it didn’t scream in pain.

I wasn’t there. I wasn't in the arena. The blood on my face was tears, rolling down my cheeks.

The hand was Finnick.

I still couldn’t breathe.

“Elenia!” I let the oxygen force its way down my throat and the noise around me erupted. People were scrambling, the peacekeepers everywhere, looking like they were attacking at random, shoving past people, calling hard loud orders. “Here, okay, you need to stay here!” I nodded at him, my eyes felt wide, Mags huddled into his other side.

I probably looked as mad as I truly was.

“I saw your brothers, they’re meeting us at yours okay? But we need to go now, this is getting out of hand.” Mags nodded furiously and I let him pull me along, although my eyes lingered on people crumbling to the floor, batons still flying and bashing against weak skin.

The crowd dispersed, mothers dragging children home in the same manor Finnick was with me.

It was insane, the whole situation but we eventually broke from it. Having to move slower for Mags sake. But they wouldn’t touch us, they’d be stupid too. It would be more trouble than it was worth.
But so little had triggered it, those fools holding their hands up had caused it.

That wasn’t true, the damn berries in the arena had triggered it.

We stopped down a smaller road, doors and homes were slammed shut, people closing wooden shutters. “That was ridiculous.” Finnick panted, and I finally pulled my hand away, he’d held it so tightly that blood flushed to it, making it sting. “Sorry.” He breathed and I nodded, rubbing it gently, more concerned about the growing red patch on Mag’s bare shoulder.

“Bastards.” I grumbled, finally feeling able to speak, although she shook me off. “Where did everyone else go?”

“Naloh dragged Luine away as I got you, that was about all I saw...well other than your brothers.”

“And they’ll be in the village?” He nodded again, tongue dancing over his lips, there was still sounds of shouting, arguing from the square, caught on the wind. They made my stomach churn, people were being beaten, hurt.

A loan gunshot echoed in the air. “We need to go, now.” Finnick demanded, “Quickly.”

“Take Mags.” I replied with as much force as I could manage and they agreed, him slinging her onto his back like a doll as we peeked around a corner. A house went up in flames and I could hear my heartbeat in my ears, only lowered as he again called my name.

There was nothing we could do, I could do. Was this an uprising?

After a while I stopped, tugging the heels off and holding them loosely, although we kept up a good pace, further away from the destruction. “Finnick!” A voice rang out, a bike skidding to a halt close to up, making me jump. He spun and the boy clambered down, almost falling if I hadn’t managed to grab his shoulder and hold him up, he was sweating, pale with nerves.

“You have to come, they’re going to lash the people who put their hands up.” I felt the words catch in my mouth, lash them? I couldn’t remember the last time someone had been publicly lashed whatsoever. “One of them is my brother, please you have to come, they’ll listen to you! Please, Finnick!”

He couldn’t have been much older than fourteen, one of the children who stood each year, praying someone would volunteer so he would definitely be safe for another twelve months.

“Please!” He all but yelped and Finnick met my eyes, I don’t know if it was my nod that made his decision or if he was simply looking at me for assurance, agreement. He lifted Mags off carefully, running off with the boy, the bike left abandoned.

I grabbed it, murmuring to Mags and leaning it against a nearby chunk of rock, a piece of the cliff that had collapsed years ago, become a landmark for girls to meet boys at.

“Let’s head back, okay?” She was worried about Finnick, she managed his name, eyes desperately searching that direction. “I’m sure he’ll be able to do something, you know how much influence he has.” I was saying it more for myself than her, lashes, in the square.

It was barbaric.

I just prayed it was nothing more.

It took a while for us to get back, I wasn’t strong enough to sling her onto my back as he had, so we walked slowly, and I kept my sight out desperately for my brothers. They’d be there before us, waiting in my living room, perfectly fine.

But I was still struggling to comprehend what had just happened.

How it had spiralled out of control so easily from just the position of fingers, a raised arm. And Finnick’s face, I knew he was aware of something I wasn’t, he received enough phone calls from the Capitol, arranging his next ‘visit’ to influential people. Charming them over the phone to find anything for his advantage. He had to know something, it was written all over his face.

“This is bad.”

I glanced at her, “Yeah Mags, it is.” She was the oldest person I knew, grandparents weren’t that common unless you were a young child, I didn’t know what exactly the average lifespan was, but a lifetime of hard work definitely look a few years off what you would expect.

I didn’t like to think about it, like so many other things the idea of death, nothingness petrified me.

And yet I had killed people. Sent them to that black eternity, been forced to smile about it, stutter my way through interview after interview like it was fine.

I hated it, I hated the Capitol. I hated the games, I hated it all.

I’d just never comprehended that others had, at least not in the way to visually show it like this, knowing the risks. A brisk wind danced across my arms and I shivered, we were almost back, away from all of the other houses but most doors we had walked past had been closed, one only opening to offer Mags a coat.

Everyone loved Mags, she’d become a District wide celebrity, a darling that people flocked too, our eldest Victor. I’d never heard a bad word said against her and doubted I ever would.

“There you are!” Luka jogged over, own cheeks still flushed red, wide green eyes scared, “Are you both okay? Where’s Finnick, he was supposed to be with you?!”

“He went off to help.” I informed him quickly, not liking the way his voice had lifted, “Let’s just get inside alright? Is everyone okay?”

“Some bastard knocked Rita over but yeah, we’re fine...I...what the fuck happened?”

I didn’t really have an answer for him.


A few hours passed, the children were tucked asleep in the third bedroom, the five of them in the large bed. It was the biggest room in the house, obviously meant as the master bedroom. I preferred the smallest, I didn’t need so much room, it only emphasised how alone I was.

We turned on the hologram in the hopes they would cover it but nothing, they showed the speeches, the glimmer of us former victors. Thankfully it almost looked like I was clapping, so I couldn’t be accused of that.

Drinks were passed around, both of my brothers in low, hard and hurried conversation. Mags was dozing on an armchair, a thick blanket drawled over her by Rita and Phillus.

“I’m going to go and check on the kids.” The latter proclaimed, trying to break through the awkward feeling in the room but failing, her feet padding on the stairs as she vanished.

Finnick should be back by now.
What if he had gotten too involved and gotten hurt? Taken to the few cells under the town hall?
No, they couldn't. I was right, he held too much influence, he was too well loved and known...

I huffed at myself, trying to clear my head.

My fingers were tapping a random rhythm close to my knee. I was growing agitated, I could feel it, my legs felt too tensed, like I should be moving, not sitting here unable to do anything.

“Do you agree with what they did?” I barely heard my own voice, just the heads twitching in my direction.

“If you’re asking us if we want an uprising that’s a very tricky topic.” Luka pressed carefully.

I smirked a little, eyes holding the flickering fire easily. “I don’t think we’re going to have much of a choice. Something else had already happened.”

“How do you know that?” Thom leant forward, elbow resting on his knee, chin on his hand, “Have you heard something from the Capitol?” I shook my head.

“The security, we’ve never had all those peacekeepers before. Something must have happened in another district to warrant it.”

“Well there’s no way they’d show any of that.” Luka chipped in, “But it makes sense...you...you think it would do anything? If all the districts did revolt? If we tried...”

“Tried what?” Rita cut her husband off, “Another rebellion, you want Four to end up like Thirteen? Don’t be ridiculous. By all accounts from what Elenia has said we have it good here compared!”

“We send children off to die every year, they sent my sister off for their own sick entertainment!”

Suddenly I was nameless, as if I wasn’t in the room.

“She came back.” Rita grabbed his hand softly, “She’s here.”

“Yes, but she’s...” He trailed off and I left the room, he didn’t have to say it, not when it was in my hearing range but I knew it would be, “She’s not the same is she? The games did something to her! To all of them.”

I had no idea he felt so passionately. It was too dangerous and I took a long sip of the water, glaring out of the window when I noticed a light flicker on in Finnick’s kitchen. Although the shutters were drawn, I could see it through the gaps in-between the wood. Why hadn’t he come over?

I didn’t bother with shoes, slipping out of the back door and treading softly over the damaged grass, patches of dying yellow making designs. I stopped, knocking, which was something I did rarely when I came around. I heard the noise of a chair scraping across the ground before the door swung open. I inhaled sharply, not managing to force the air back out of my lungs.

“It looks worse than it is.”

I couldn’t speak, I couldn’t even think enough to form any words at all.

I gaped on broken syllables and he moved aside, closing the door gently behind me. It was cool his kitchen, cooler than mine ever was, it was probably due to the slight difference in a layout. I don’t know why my mind clicked onto that, maybe it wanted to ignore the blooded and bruised man I adored in front of me.

“Wha...” I still couldn’t.

“They shot someone.” He sounded so unlike himself, all warmth and cockiness that resonated in his voice had fallen, his words had so much meaning but felt so empty. “They’ve set up the stocks, the pole for lashes...” His damaged hand clenched into a fist, “A shooting squad.” His kitchen twisted in my view and I groped for the counter to remain upright. “And I couldn’t fucking do anything.”

The creak in his voice sent a physical pain through my chest and all I could do was slam into his. He was shaking but his arms easily wrapped around me, chin resting on top of my head.

It wasn’t just the shot, although that was horrific enough. The death before him would have transported it back to what we all tried hard to forget. The sight of blood, the act of seeing someone die was the arena, it was the games.

I found my voice for him.

“We need to get you cleaned up first, okay?” I was aware of him nodding but have to move his arms myself, “Sit down.” My voice would have sounded firm if it wasn’t for the slight quaver but he did as I said, still looking downtrodden, fury glimmering every few seconds. He had already gotten a large bowl of cold water, a bloodied rag.

His face wasn’t as bad as I had feared originally, there was a small cut by his eyebrow and his lower lip was swollen. I wanted to ask him but didn’t dare, the look on his face was enough to render me silent once again.

His hands were the issue, he’d obviously swung a lot of punches, tried to pull people back.

His knuckles were already covered in specks of drying blood and there were scrapes all over his palms and elbows. I needed to disinfect it but all I could think of was spirits, some clear alcohol. I knew he had some so left him, although I kept glancing back, he barely moved even as I gathered the bottle, nearly dropping it and swearing loudly.

He only flinched a little as I pressed a cloth soaked in it against his fingers, the smell stinging my nose and the sore patches where I had torn off too much nail with the building panic.

“I’m sorry.”

He didn’t shush me.


Fishing and production completely shut down over the next month. No ships left port, no factories were open. Not only did it affect the deliveries to the Capitol, it affected everyone. So much food came off the ships that people began to go hungry, something that never happened in Four. A strict curfew was set, boundaries were formed that breaking would earn you five lashes.

But it was more than that, five groups of people, some families, were found guilty of plotting, encouraging rebellion. Their homes were burnt to the ground.

At least one hundred people were lashed.

And five men were killed by the firing squad over the time the lock-down continued. Each discovered to have been plotting an underground revolution, a way to overthrow the peace keepers.

One of those men was Luka Volute.