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chapter twenty-four: does it ever get better?
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𝐀𝐓 𝐋𝐎𝐍𝐆 𝐋𝐀𝐒𝐓, 𝐕𝐈𝐒𝐇𝐀'𝐒 𝐓𝐑𝐀𝐈𝐍 𝐀𝐑𝐑𝐈𝐕𝐄𝐒 𝐀𝐓 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍 𝐈𝐍 𝐃𝐈𝐒𝐓𝐑𝐈𝐂𝐓 𝐓𝐖𝐎. She can hardly contain herself, legs bouncing up and down, as the vehicle braces to a steaming stop and pulls into the station. Before Visha can almost-literally jump out of the train, Hunter wraps an arm around her and holds her back.
She shoots him a questioning glance. "What?"
"Tread carefully," Gideon answers for him. "You may be the Capitol's Victor, but to District 2, Blake was the one who was supposed to win the Crown."
Visha furrows her brows. "Does it really matter?" She tilts her head to the side. An irrational hatred towards Blake grows within her― how infuriating was it to play second fiddle to someone who was dead? "District 2 has another Victor. Who cares if it's Blake or me?"
"It might not be the case," Hunter says, shooting the older man a pointed look. "Just... be careful."
"Fine," she pouts, and slowly makes her way to the doors of the train, both her Mentors trailing behind her. As the doors open with a great heave, Visha's face brightens up with a wide smile as she steps back into her District.
Her home.
There are some of her fellow Trainees from the Academy waiting for her at the station. They greet her with applause, smiles, and hugs― as if they hadn't absolutely hated her guts mere weeks ago. Visha smiles, though, and accepts the praise.
Hunter pushes her to "keep going", and they make their way out of the train station. The crowd disperses, and Visha frowns. "What a welcome," she mutters sarcastically. Her eyes dart around the newly abandoned structure. She turns to Gideon and Hunter, chewing her bottom lip. "Where's Aife? You said I'd see her in District 2. We're in District 2. So... where is she?"
Visha pretends not to see Gideon and Hunter exchange yet another look, tapping her foot impatiently on the concrete ground. "I'm waiting," she mutters crossly, still glancing around to catch a glimpse of the redhead.
"We'll take you to her," Hunter speaks up after a few minutes of silence.
Even though she is suspicious of what is happening, Visha nods. "Let's go, then."
"Don't you want to settle into your new Victor house?" Gideon questions gruffly― like it wasn't a question at all.
Visha doesn't even deign to give that question a response; she settles for shooting him a glare.
As the trio steps out of the station, District 2's smoggy air hits Visha like a slap in the face. It's thick, smells bad, and isn't at all like what she remembered. Or maybe it's perfectly the same, and Visha has forgotten. She stands still for a moment, closing her eyes and simply breathing in. Eventually, the familiarity comes back to her.
She recognizes it.
When Visha opens her eyes again, Hunter and Gideon are staring at her. While Gideon looks impatient, Hunter's expression is a little more sympathetic. He likely remembers the shock of being back in his District after being in the Games and in the Capitol for so long.
Visha doesn't say anything, but starts to walk. Gideon cuts in front of her, so that he is leading the three of them into the town.
They pass through the outskirts of the District, and make their way towards the more town-like area. As they pass through the most populated markets, a furious face stops Visha in her tracks. A tall, slender girl with dark hair and warm, tan skin stomps up to the new Victor, a merciless glare on her face. "You murderer!" She yells at Visha.
Almost immediately, peacekeepers move forwards. They intervene between Visha and the girl― the girl who Visha can somewhat recognize now. She's seen her with Blake and his pseudo-girlfriend many times before. Not Tempest, but her younger sister. Khione Rivers.
"You bitch! You didn't stop at killing him, but you had to kill her too!" Khione spews insults at Visha as she struggles against the peacekeepers' grips.
Stunned, Visha has to take a step back.
"Yes, take a step back, you backstabber! You traitor! You're the reason she's dead― the reason both of them are dead."
And Visha just has to ask. "I'm sorry― who is dead?"
Hunter tries and fails to grab her arm and pull her away.
Khione goes still. The peacekeepers loosen their hold of her. Bad idea. She gets right up in Visha's face. "When you killed Blake in the arena," she spits, "my sister lost it. She lost the will she had to live. We all tried to comfort her but, the next morning, we found her dead. Hanging from the tree outside our house. And it's all your fucking fault!"
Khione moves to attack Visha once more, but Visha ducks and shakes her head as the younger girl is restrained by peacekeepers once more. "Blake was always going to die," Visha snaps back, her face devoid of all emotion. "If not by my hand, then by another's. Don't blame me for your sister's choices and actions."
She then turns around and stalks off with Hunter and Gideon trailing behind. The trio makes their way through the downtown of the District, heading towards the quarry. Gideon takes the lead once more.
Hunter falls into step with Visha. "Don't listen to her," he says quietly. "Tempest Rivers' suicide is not on your hands."
"I know," Visha nods. But her stomach tosses at the idea of someone killing themselves as a result of her actions.
Gideon stops walking, and Visha and Hunter nearly bump into the older man. Looking directly at Hunter, ignoring Visha's presence all-together, he questions, "Are you sure she's ready for this?"
"She has a right to know," Hunter replies.
Visha notices that he doesn't say anything about her being ready. She frowns, and crosses her arms across her chest deftly. "She is right here, you know," Visha says testily. "And Hunter is right― I do have a right to know about whatever the hell it is you two and Aife are being so secretive about."
Gideon shrugs and continues leading them in the direction of the quarry. Hunter is still walking beside Visha, but she doesn't feel like talking to him.
She just wants to know what is going on.
Instead of taking a left to enter the quarry, Gideon takes a sharp right and leads them up a graveled pathway. Visha's breath hitches. No, she thinks to herself. She knows this pathway very well― it's the same road she refused to go near two years ago. It can't be.
But it is.
Gideon enters District 2's graveyard.
Visha's blood runs cold. She turns to face Hunter, jabbing an accusatory finger at his chest. "What kind of a sick joke is this?" She snaps, eyes narrowing as Hunter raises his hands, as if in surrender, and backs away. "Do you think it's funny? Bringing me here? Pretending that this is where Aife is? Answer me! Where is she? Where is Aife?"
She doesn't even realise she is screaming hysterically until Hunter pushes her finger down and envelops her in a tight, tight hug.
Visha pushes him away, and shakes his head. "Tell me this isn't true," she demands.
Hunter looks away. "Can't."
She looks pleadingly at Gideon.
"She's dead, kid."
Tears aren't enough at this point. Visha lets out an enraged scream, and glances around. She finds the biggest rock she can and throws it as hard as she can. It bounces off the trunk of a nearby tree and shatters into pieces.
It doesn't help her.
Her voice is raspy and emotionless as she asks, "How did she die?"
"They say she fell from a hotel balcony while in the Capitol," Hunter replies quietly. His jaw is clenched, like he's trying hard not to get angry.
"They say?" Visha echoes in confusion.
"You know how the Capitol is," Hunter says with a frown.
Her heart drops. Visha sniffles quietly, before questioning, "She just... fell? That's it?"
"As far as we know," Gideon mutters.
Visha's eyebrows furrow. "What do you mean, as far as we know? Aife is a Victor― they should be looking into this! Finding answers about her death! What if―"
"No." Gideon says. "No what-ifs. You can't do that, kid."
"I'm not a kid," Visha retorts sharply, glaring. She runs a hand through her hair, stopping before she says anything else. As the two men stand before her, Visha pushes past them and walks over to Aife's grave. She drops to her knees upon seeing the gorgeous marble headstone. It reads:
Aife O'Donnel
Victor of the 61st Hunger Games.
Beloved daughter, friend, and lover.
There is an engraving of an axe below the words.
Visha's eyes sting with unshed tears. She notices how it says Victor before anything else― even before daughter and friend and lover. She realises that it's a reminder of who they are now, the Victors. More like the prized possessions of the President.
The Capitol owns them, even in death.
She shakily gets to her feet. Her feet stumble over each other as she backs up. She backtracks past Hunter and Gideon, then turns around. Visha doesn't know when or how, but her feet start to move and she begins to run from the cemetery.
Her arms pump at her sides as she races away, trying to put the most distance possible between her and the cemetery. From Aife's grave. Even from Hunter and Gideon― who had been lying to her ever since she'd been back from the arena.
Visha runs away from the cemetery, down the trails leading to the quarry, past the downtown, until she stops, winded, leaning against an old oak. Across from the oak is a run-down home, with boarded-up windows and a rotting wooden door.
Her home.
Cautiously, Visha looks both ways before crossing the yard― if you could even call it that― and pushing open the door of the home. She steps inside, and the door swings shut behind her. The floor is covered in a thin layer of dust. The floorboards creak as she steps into the kitchen. A forlorn smile rests on Visha's face as her eyes catch the mouldy sandwich she had made prior to the reaping. It was supposed to be her lunch but, instead she snacked on Capitol delicacies. She moves into the sitting room next. The lamp on the wall is flickering― Visha wonders how it hasn't gone out yet. The television crackles on and off, static. Against a side table, are wrinkled, faded photographs.
Visha picks one up.
It's an image of Visha and Mayan, grinning up with their arms around each other. Mayan is missing a tooth or two. Visha's hair is straggly and tied in a messy knot. Still, the siblings are happy.
A tear traces down Visha's cheek. Oh, what she would give to be truly happy again.
She puts the photograph back down.
Walking down the hallway to the bedrooms, Visha's eyes linger on the paintings hung up on the walls. The neighbourhood cat. An array of rocks found at the quarry. A (horrid) self-portrait that looked more like a monkey than a human. The bonfire that took place when Aife won the Games. What nine year-old Visha thought a beach looked like. A black clematis.
Visha stops in front of the final painting; her last one in a while. Mayan, in his arena tracksuit, smiling, mere moments away from his death.
A sob escapes her lips. Visha places a shaking hand over her mouth, stopping the cries from becoming too loud. Wet tears splatter on her cheeks. She wipes them away furiously, sniffling. Her hands are still shaking.
Loud, stomping footsteps from outside make the walls shake.
Visha's breath catches in her throat. She lifts a shaking hand to her mouth and covers it, waiting. Her feet move automatically, until she is backed up against the wall. The other hand clenches into a fist at her side.
The door swings open; the creaking is ghastly.
More footsteps.
They are rapid, running, almost.
Visha lifts her arm, ready to swing.
Someone rounds the corner into the hallway, and her fist connects with a face. A man stumbles backwards with a familiar groan.
Visha squints her eyes, then takes a closer look.
Hunter.
And her jaw drops. Her hands stop shaking. She rushes forward, biting her bottom lip. "Oh my― I'm so sorry. Hunter, are you okay?"
He clutches his nose, eyebrows crinkling up in pain, but nods. "'M fine," he mutters, and Visha knows he's lying.
"I'd get you some ice, but it's probably all melted by now," she frowns.
"My nose is fine," Hunter insists, and stops holding it. It's red, but not bleeding. That's a good sign― for both his sake and Visha's. She doesn't know what she would do if there was blood again, because of her.
"Are you okay?" He asks, and she can't tell whether he's asking to change the subject, or to be polite, or because he's genuinely concerned. The hesitation on her face must be evident, because Hunter takes a step forward, and wraps a tentative arm around her in a one-sided hug. "I'm asking because I care," he whispers. "I promise."
A tear slips down Visha's face. "I don't think I can do this," she admits. A sniffle escapes her lips. She is torn between guilt and mortification.
"Do what?"
"This," she mumbles, resisting the urge to break down crying again. "Being a Victor. I can't― I can't... Is it always like this? Friends and mentors dropping dead and the Capitol not giving a damn? And all of the hate and the fame and the fans and the glory and the guilt of being the reason someone else is no longer alive?" What Visha truly wants to ask is, does it ever get better?
And it's like Hunter has read her mind. "It does get better," he says. "A little bit. Sometimes. Being a Victor has it's ups and downs. But you have us now. We all rely on each other. We're the only ones we can trust."
She nods slowly. Tilts her head up to meet Hunter's eyes. Visha swallows roughly before saying her next words, "I trust you." And there is raw honesty in her words; she does trust him.
𝐆𝐈𝐆𝐈'𝐒 𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐄!
teehee. y'all this act is truly the saddest of them all. probably. i'm so looking forward to destroying y'all's sanity & making y'all cry. so excited!!!
anyways tho. what was ur fav part of this chapter? least fav? any predictions? i loveeeeeeeeee comments so please please please comment!!!! aLSO TYSM FOR 2K READS!!!!! this is so unreal i'm so happy y'all like this. <333
anyways i'm gonna continue working on the next few chappies, bye for now :)