Hazel's eyelids flickered as if even her eyes wanted to reject the scene before her. Unfathomable dread flowed through her entire form, making her head spin and knees grow weak. She strained to hold herself upright on the crutches. The familiar sensation of tears burned behind her eyes as she curled her lips together, holding back a sob by sheer force.
"Oh dear," Indira murmured at her side, gripping her arm, but her voice was distant as if she were underwater.
The scent of rich mahogany wafted out into the open. The craftsmanship was impeccable, and Hazel thought it rivaled the handiwork of District Seven's best carpenters.
The caskets were arranged in a neat line, except one.
The final casket sat apart from the others at the far end of the line. A lush forest green flag was folded over it. Hazel bit her lip; the lid was ajar. She squeezed her eyes shut and bit down on her lips.
Murmurs of the crowd began to pick up around her like the wind as peacekeepers flanked her. Hazel shivered and let her head bow forward, hair shielding her face from the cameras, but kept her eyes closed. Don't break. Don't break.
"Give her some space," Festus instructed somewhere behind her.
They were all gone. Really gone. All of them. In her mind, she knew it, but seeing the caskets drilled the fact into her soul. Nothing would ever be the same. The dam she tried to build broke, and tears flowed without restraint down her cheeks.
Festus's voice was at her ear, "Hazel?"
At that moment, if she could run, she would sprint as far and as fast as she could. But running wasn't an option. Hell, I can't even walk. She reopened her eyes, removing herself from Indira's grasp. Her movements were jerky and unsteady as she staggered toward the Grand Train Station doors. She didn't look back, her voice breaking as she whispered, "I need a minute... alone. Please, Festus."
Everything had grown quiet outside of the scratching of her crutches along the ground. It was as if everyone was holding their breath to see how she would react. Festus sighed, turning to Snow, who nodded, watching her with a careful but solemn expression.
She sucked in a breath as she pushed herself over the threshold, keeping her back to the crowd. Maybe tears humanized her, but she didn't want them to see hers. She gripped the crutches' handles until her fingertips were numb and the armrests bruised her armpits.
"Ma'am," Private Drayton called after her, but Hazel did not acknowledge her. Private Drayton strode forward, clearly intending to follow. Senator Snow held up a hand, and she froze as he stepped between the peacekeeper and Hazel's retreating figure. His voice dropped low, his attention flickering between the peacekeepers, the crowd, and then Festus and Indira, "Let her go. I'll watch her myself." A few in the crowd aww'd at his display of concern.
Private Drayton nodded and backed away as Hazel hauled herself further into the train station. Multiple trains waited at the platforms, their doors open, prepared for loading. The station was eerily quiet and empty, devoid of any movement or sound aside from Hazel's footsteps and the crutches. The crystalline chandeliers reflected off the polished surfaces of the caskets. Each waited in silence for their final journey.
Unable to stop herself, she approached the closest one. A flag was draped over it that bore the colors of muted ash gray and coal black. The wood surface itself was engraved with a mining pick crossed with a canary. Hazel sucked in a sharp breath as she made out the engraving, "District 12." Below that, read "Ruby Hart." More tears soaked Hazel's cheeks.
Beside Ruby's casket was a larger, identical one. "District 12. Ethan Black". They are together again. But the thought did little to stop Hazel's quivering lip, "I'm so sorry." Hazel reached her hand out until the coolness of Ruby's casket met her fingers. The chill of the surface sent a shiver through her. Tears soaked into the expensive fabric of her top as she caressed the lid. Her bulky pink bandage caught on the slick surface as she traced the letters with a trembling hand. The wood was polished to perfection, almost silky under her touch, but it did nothing to soften the agony. The engraved symbols seemed to mock her, shining brightly while their occupants lay cold and lifeless.
Memories of Ruby's laughter and Ethan's quiet strength washed over her, making her chest tighten. She hoped they were somewhere beautiful and he was making her laugh along with Tulsi.
"Goodbye," she whispered, her voice breaking. The injustice of their deaths burned through her. Forcing herself to step away felt like tearing out a piece of her heart.
Behind her, the click of dress shoes approached, and the large train station doors slid shut with a soft but firm command from Snow. Without looking, she could tell they were alone in the station. He seemed to hover, watching, but allowed her to observe her fellow tributes in silence.
With an unsteady, awkward gait, she reached the next set of coffins draped in sunshine yellow flags with the inscription "District 11." Kai and Iris. She closed her eyes. Kai's lifeless face lying among the ferns of the forest floor was the last memory she had of the boy. Hazel moved closer to Kai's casket, "So brave. "You were so brave, and that's how I'll remember you," she mumbled. Hazel's fingers lingered on the flag draped over Kai's casket. Though she didn't spend much time with Iris, the sunflower-colored fabric was soft to the touch but also heavy with the weight of lost potential.
Her golden crutches dug into her sides, but she welcomed the pain as she moved to the next set. These were draped in iron brown flags bearing the symbols of District Ten: a wide set of horns from a steer and a butcher's knife.
She approached Mia's casket first, running her fingers over the name engraved on the smooth wood. "Hey boss...." She ran her hand over the flag, tracing the outline of the knife. "I promise to try those peach kolaches someday."
Turning to Aaron's casket, Hazel chewed on her lips, struggling to find the right words. "Your father should be proud to have had such a son." She was losing the battle of keeping her lips from quivering, "You would have made a fine mayor." Familiar guilt soured her stomach, and her eyes fluttered. Maybe he would have been if it wasn't for her family.
Snow's steady breathing and the clicking of his refined shoes continued to follow her. He said nothing and made no move to hurry her.
Hazel's fingers left the wooden surface of Aaron's casket, and she moved down the line, her body protesting every step. She approached the next set of caskets, draped in dark gold flags adorned with the symbols of District Nine: a stalk of grain and a sickle.
Grace's name caught her eye, etched into the wood in bold, elegant letters. The coin in her pocket burned against her thigh.
She rested her hand on Grace's casket, tracing the engraved letters with her fingers. "I promise to give it to your family," her voice caught in her throat, and the weight of the coin was even heavier.
Hazel took a deep breath, the scent of polished wood and faint, sugary, rose-scented air filling her nostrils. She walked away from District Nine, her legs trembling harder with each slide of the crutches. Each step was agonizing, but she welcomed the distraction from the pain in her heart.
Next was District Eight. The flags draped over the caskets were navy blue, embellished with symbols of a spool of thread and a needle crossed with a pair of scissors. Hazel's eyes softened at Ava's name. She remembered the girl's quiet strength and gentle demeanor. She didn't stand a chance.
Her eyes narrowed as they immediately shifted to Ian's casket. It was much plainer than the others. No embellishments, no flag, just his name scratched into the lid. She ran her hand over the pendant beneath her top. The sickening sounds of her own screams and Ian's beating echoed in her mind. Her pulse raced as his words that night pierced her spirit. What do you think happens when you're a victor of the Hunger Games? Do you think you belong to yourself?
Enjoying the story? Show your support by reading it on the official site.
She cast a glance at Snow over her shoulder. He watched quietly, hands folded behind him. His eyes met hers for a second, and she tore her face away. Ian's voice felt like it was in her ear: Death would be a welcome ally compared to the predators awaiting your victory.
She shuddered, pushing the murderous boy and his ramblings from her mind, no matter how accurate they may be. Moving on to Districts Six and Five, she paid her respects quickly. The memories of their tributes were faint, but it didn't change the fact that each coffin represented a life cut short.
Then, she came to District Four. The flags were vibrant turquoise, with symbols of a trident and a fish. Hazel's guilt bit at her; she had a hand in the deaths of both Marina and Flynn. Not that I could have done much differently. She stared hard at the coffin for Flynn. Had they really recovered him from the eels? She shivered and distanced herself from the coffins as if she could hide from the memories just as easily.
As she dragged herself past District Three, she paused at District Two; the flags were a rich crimson that held the symbols of a sword and a shield. Eve and Caleb's caskets stared back at her. Both were dead because of her, but she couldn't bring herself to regret her actions. All the same, she was certain Caleb's distorted body being hauled away by the falcon would plague her forever, and she would never forget the smell of burning corn. Neither tribute knew it, but they had both been betrayed by their mentor. The unanswered question of why made her nauseous.
She next glanced at District One, the flags a shimmering silver. Elara and Julian. The sight of them made her stomach churn even more. Two more tributes whose blood she had on her hands; if she let herself, she could nearly feel it dripping down her skin. She squeezed her injured palm harder against the crutches.
Snow had gotten closer with each district until she could feel his breathing playing with her hair.
She coughed, "Are they really in there?"
He leaned in closer, voice hollow, "For the most part."
"Hm." Hazel didn't look at Snow as she wiped her eyes. They were all gone, but she was still here. It was unreal. Why me? Swallowing down a lump in her throat, she turned to the last casket. He is why. Her feet pulled her closer while Snow watched but didn't follow.
Her breaths grew shallow, and her crutches shook as she approached the casket. She bit her lip, trying to steady herself. A forest green flag was draped over the coffin. Symbols of a towering pine tree and an axe crossed with a saw adorned it. The glossy surface mirrored her tear-streaked face. She blinked rapidly, how different she looked from the night she had stared at herself in the pond of the Pantheon's garden. She had grieved her future then, now, her brother's.
Her fingers trembled as they brushed over the intricate letters: District Seven, Silus Starling. Each letter was like a dagger plunged into her heart. Perhaps it was just her imagination, but his casket seemed to be the most elegant one, with the finest details and best sealants used. While it warmed her heart, the thought of District Seven carpenters, who she suspected had prepared it, cut to her heart.
Inside, Silus lay clean, his eyes closed with his hands folded over his chest. His face was calm, as if he were taking a relaxing nap. Long sleeves covered his arms to the wrists. The golden crutches fell from her hands. They clattered against the hard flooring as she gripped onto the casket for support. Her knees wobbled, and a soft whimper escaped her lips as she reached out to touch the casket.
"Oh, Silus..." Tears flowed down her face, dripping off her nose and lips, marking his green shirt with dark splotches. Before she could think better of it, she reached in and ran a hand over his forehead, shivering at the unnatural temperature of his skin. Several errant curls covered his forehead. She tried to push the strands out of his face, but they continued to rebel against her efforts. Her fingers stroked his soft hair over and over as tears now flowed down her face in heavy streams. She half expected him to open his chocolate eyes and tease her for blubbering over him, but he remained as he was. Hazel's body shook, and a strangled sob escaped her. He is really gone. She bent, resting her forehead on the wood surface. "I miss you...."
More sobs shook her as she wept against the surface, breathing in the burning scent of fresh varnish. "It should have been me, damn it," she whispered, lips brushing the woodgrain.
The sound of dress shoes clicked closer, and she felt heat work up her neck as a hand landed on her shoulder. If Silus were alive, he would have glared at the figure looming next to her. You were right all along.
After a while, Snow's deep voice broke through the suffocating, murky depths of her grief. "Miss Marlowe... it's time."
Hazel wiped her eyes, gripping the casket until her knuckles turned white. She didn't answer, and Snow exhaled.
"We aren't going to have a repeat of last time, are we?"
Hazel forced her eyes shut again. "No, Senator." She straightened and pulled the flower from her hair. Snow watched in quiet curiosity as she brought the rose to her lips, laying a soft kiss against the petals. Tears graced the refined petals like the morning dew before she bent forward, placing the golden rose on top of his folded hands.
"Even if I still don't forgive you," she whispered, "You will always be my victor, little brother."
Snow watched her for a moment longer before he gathered her crutches from the ground and held them out. She took them while keeping her eyes glued to her brother's still face. Hissing as the handles pressed against the now tender skin under her arms.
Snow called an echoing command she didn't quite comprehend. On the far side of the station, the doors slid open again. Peacekeepers, Festus, and Indira filtered in before the doors closed once more, blocking the view of people straining to see what was happening. A few of the peacekeepers eyed Snow and Hazel as if she were some threat. She almost scoffed at the idea out loud. What am I going to do, take on the Capitol with a pair of absurd golden crutches?
Snow's breath was warm on her neck as a sweet aroma mixed with rose battled the woody scent in her lungs. She turned to face him, her eyes red and swollen, as she struggled to clear her watery vision. "What now?" she asked, her voice hoarse.
"Now, we send you home. And we move forward." His voice had dipped lower.
"Move forward." Hazel bit back under her breath. The glinting rose on his chest caught her eye, and she nearly snorted. Her eyes turned as hard as emeralds, "New beginnings."
"For both of us, Miss Marlowe." His voice was as soft as cotton, and his blue eyes shone a bright cerulean in the lights of the chandeliers.
She turned away from him and wiped her eyes with her sleeve. Snow stepped back as Festus and Indira were soon within earshot; each wore a look of concern as their gazes flicked from her to the casket behind her. Indira approached the ornate coffin. She stared down at Silus in silence, dabbing at her eyes with a tissue she had pulled from her sleeve.
Festus's eyes were downcast as he stopped next to Hazel. "He looks..."
"Peaceful," Indira finished as she backed away, moving closer to Hazel and rubbing a hand over her back. Hazel leaned into the comforting touch, closing her eyes again, and shook her head. Maybe death was the only way to find peace, to find freedom. The thought was little comfort but she prayed Silus had found both.
The sound of boots shuffling and hushed murmurs filled the station. More Peacekeepers filtered in, surrounding the various caskets. They began to pick up and transport them onto separate trains. The flags draped over the bottom of each fluttered as they were lifted, carried away, never to be seen again.
Hazel strained to catch one last glimpse of the caskets from District Twelve as they were loaded onto a separate train on the far side of the station. The dark flags were barely visible through the crowd of Peacekeepers. We arrived here together, and now we will all leave together. She might be alive, but she was the only one of twenty-four who was still captive.
Next, the Peacekeepers approached Silus's casket, pulling Hazel's attention away. Hazel's heart pounded in her chest, and her muscles tensed. One of them began to close the lid for transport, covering Silus's face. She couldn't bear the thought. "Wait."
Festus leaned in. "It's only temporary," he murmured. "You'll be with him on the ride home."
She took a deep breath and willed herself to calm. A couple of peacekeepers watched her carefully. The last thing I need is another round with a sedation dart. The Peacekeepers continued their work, lifting Silus's casket slowly and carrying it to a waiting train. Hazel followed it with her eyes until it disappeared from view.
Snow cleared his throat. "Believe it or not, I have a surprise for you."
"I've had my fill of surprises for one day," she replied, scrunching her nose. "Do I even want to know?"
"This time," Snow started, a soft smile gracing his lips, "I think you will. Now that you are a victor, you will need protection."
She scowled at him. Protection?
He seemed to read her thoughts through her expression. "While overall, you are a popular victor, both in the districts and the Capitol, in many ways, you have aligned yourself with the Capitol ..." He tilted his head, "... with me."
Her heart rejected the idea, but in the back of her mind, there was some truth in his words. She pushed away that line of reasoning. "I'm not afraid of District Seven. I'm not afraid of my people."
He studied her. "Nor should you be. But you cannot be too careful. We cannot take the risk. I do hope to gain more favor with those in the Districts someday. However, there are still those who would rebel against order and peace. And they may consider you on the wrong side."
Hazel pondered his words while nearly choking on the irony that the only individuals she had ever feared in District Seven were the peacekeepers and the Gamemakers. "You have a peculiar definition of surprise, Senator."
He smiled wider at that but continued, "I have gone ahead and hand-selected your security detail."
She tried to keep her face neutral. Of course, he had. Is he going to pick out my dentist next?
"That is definitely not a surprise, Senator."
He smiled a hair wider as he turned to the peacekeepers. "Send in Private Drayton."
Hazel let out a puff of air. "She seems like a capable peacekeeper, but I'm not sure I would call that a surprise either."
Snow looked back at her, eyes alight with secrets, "She?"
Hazel's heart leaped into her throat as she whirled her head toward the train station doors as they began to reopen.