Song inspiration for this chapter: It's Alright (The Guvnor Mix) – East 17

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It's Really Alright

I run down the street. The sun is high above the horizon. My heart is racing but I'm not stopping. Luckily, I'm wearing comfortable sneakers, which cushion my feet with every step. When I wear them to gym class, I'm always one of the fastest.

But right now, I just want to go home. She was not there. And she's always there. No matter how long my lessons last. If she's not there, then something is wrong. After all, she went to school with me this morning.

Most people on the street automatically make room to me, but some of them I have to push aside to get through. I just ignore their angry shouts. I turn the corner and keep running. The twinge in my side goes unnoticed. The road begins to blur before my eyes, but I still force myself to keep going. I have my priorities.

Our house is just outside the center, a few blocks away from the outer part of the city. It takes us twenty minutes to walk in the morning. Sprinting, I manage the distance in less than ten minutes. Our house looks the same as ever. White with a red roof. Red window frames. Blue flowers in the front yard surrounded by green box trees. Idyllic. Sometimes a little boring. But I like it anyway. My father's car is parked in front of the driveway. Shouldn't he be at work?

I stop abruptly and fall to my knees. The panting of my body is loud, but the blood pounding through my ears is even louder. Why did I stop? I didn't want to stop. I stare across the street at the black car parked in front of our house. With trembling fingers, I find stability in the trunk of a beech tree. They stand every few meters in the street. Much nicer than in the center.

As my body settles and exhaustion sets in, I take off my backpack, but without taking my eyes off the black car. I sometimes see them driving around town. But they don't really belong here. If it was up to me, they wouldn't drive anywhere at all. I always get the feeling that people tense up when a car like this drives by.

At this moment our front door opens. I flinch from the sound, even though I shouldn't have anything to worry about. Two Peacekeepers step outside and my heart sinks automatically. What are they doing here? I hope they aren't here because of our stupid mall action last week. Panic grips me. That was just a silly prank for children anyway! All the same. I pray they are here for something else. Whatever it is, it's better than getting in trouble with my parents.

Then my father steps outside. No, he's not stepping outside, he's being pulled outside. One of the Peacekeepers has his neck in an iron grip and is dragging him to the front yard.

I just watch the whole thing from a distance. My fear is gone. What are they doing there? I'm perched next to the road, possibly in someone else's front yard, but that doesn't interest me. I am fascinated by the strange spectacle that is taking place in front of our house. Somehow it looks ridiculous.

At that moment, a third Peacekeeper comes out the door. He's holding his helmet in one hand and my sister's arm in the other. He looks like an idiot. Blonde hair shaved to the skin, tall build and hard facial features. A rifle hangs from his belt. It shines in the setting sun. Since when do Peacekeepers carry guns in the Capitol?

Aurelia doesn't look scared at all. Her face is soft and her green eyes sparkle like diamonds. For a moment I forget that the Peacekeeper is still roughly grabbing her arm.

Only the sight of my mother, who is suddenly standing at the door, her hands crossed in front of her chest, brings me back to reality. She mumbles something, I can't make it out, but it sounds like a plea. But what worries me a lot more are her clothes. She wears a floor-length robe, her face is bare and free of cosmetic products. Her natural blonde hair is pulled up in a messy bun.

The exhaustion from just now is gone. I sit bolt upright next to the tree and silently watch the scenery on the other side. The distance suddenly seems like infinity to me. The Peacekeeper turns and laughs. "It's out of question. I have my orders." His voice cuts through my bones.

"But she's still a child," I hear my mother cry. I no longer see her, for my eyes cling to him. Out of the corner of my eye I see them pushing my father to his knees. The barrel of a pistol to his left temple.

I don't flinch when he pulls the trigger. I pay no attention to the lifeless body sinking in on itself. My eyes are fixed on Aurelia, who returns my gaze with a smile on her lips. Suddenly, time seems to run out in slow motion. She smiles while being pinned to the floor.

"The law is harsh, but it is the law."

Then she suddenly stretches out her hand to me. Her eyes shine. Her blond hair blows in the breeze. She smiles at me. Suddenly I'm lying on the floor. A sob shatters the silence. It's not from me.

I widen my eyes and suddenly the ground beneath my hands is brown dirty earth. The sky is dark. The mansion houses are gone. My mother stands in front a small wooden house, hardly bigger than our actual living room. My father and Lia are lying dead on the ground.

This isn't the Capitol. It's District 12. I'm screaming their names. I'm screaming my heart out.

oOo

The scream is followed by flight. Not a second after waking up I'm on the floor. My whole body trembles from the effort. It's hard for me to breathe, it only goes in fits and starts. And instead of pulling myself together like I always do, I just let myself go. I curl up and rock back and forth. The shaking won't stop, just like the tears and the sobbing. At least the revolting screams have stopped.

I'm starting to realize they're not dead. Neither of them. They are alive and well because we are not in District 12, we are in the Capitol and everyone is fine here. I try to get up with trembling legs, but my body won't cooperate. So I lie down. The only thing breaking the silence is my gasping.

I can't see my alarm clock, but it must be the middle of the night because the moon is shining into my room from outside. I reach out and grab one of my shoes. With an angry sob, I throw it across the room. With a loud crack, it sweeps something off the dresser.

At that moment the door opens. I just lie there, it's too dark to see anything anyway. "Must be weird to see Effie Trinket lying on the floor in the middle of the night, right?"

"A little," Haymitch replies, kneeling down next to me. My subconscious must have known it was him.

"You can go, I'll be fine on my own," I say. My voice betrays me.

Haymitch nods in agreement. "I see that." In the next moment he's picking me up and carrying me back onto the bed. "I heard you in my room."

My cheeks flare with shame. "Sorry," I mumble and sob.

"It's all good," Haymitch promises, smiling gently at me.

"Nothing is good." A moment later I fling my arms around his neck. I feel his arms behind my back as he pulls me closer. I rest my head on his chest.

"It's all right, princess. Just a dream."

Upset, I shake my head against his chest and clench my teeth. I'm less concerned about the dream, but he doesn't need to know that. I don't know if Haymitch understands my headshake. He's gone silent and just rocks me back and forth. My body is shaking so badly that I'm afraid of falling apart. Haymitch seems to fear the same thing, as he wraps his arms even tighter around me and pulls me onto his lap.

"You have to face them to get them under control," he whispers in my ear. His voice is hoarse and sounds way too far away. Painful.

Every time I close my eyes I see her. Hear their screams "Why is it so hard?" I'm a Capitol woman, many think of me as a cold and unpredictable doll, but I'm not. I would not be trusted to have the ability to love, any of us Capitols. And yet I love my family, no matter how mean and selfish they may be at times.

"Love makes us blind," he replies, as if quoting something. "It dazzles us, pretends to us. And then when it goes away, you're blinded and unable to ever see things the way they were before." Haymitch is no optimist. To understand this, one need only look at the bottle in his hand.

Suddenly, I'm worried about him. My vision blurry, I lean back to look into his eyes. I rub my trembling fingers across my face to hold back the tears. It's still dark, but the moon sheds some light so I can see his eyes in the dark. He looks down at me and for a second I see something flash inside them. But it vanished so quickly that it might as well have been a reflection of the light. He averts his gaze and carefully breaks away from the hug, carefully avoiding my gaze. Gently, he pushes me away and suddenly I feel incredibly stupid.

What was I thinking? That Haymitch would comfort me? That he'd hold me while I cry out my heart? He just wanted to make sure I was okay. Nothing more. And yet I thought so. For a moment I feel the pang in my chest and in the next I wonder why I feel this way at all. I don't understand myself anymore.

I think back to when we first met, all those years ago. I brutally bite my lip to keep from bursting into tears again. Without saying a word, Haymitch walks to the door and for a moment I consider asking him to stay. But before I can open my mouth, he turns on the light and silently pushes the door shut.

I just sit there and watch him do it. "Maybe it will help to talk about it," he ponders skeptically. But I just keep staring at him, too overcome with my emotions. That he didn't go like I thought. He questioningly raises an eyebrow and I shake my head.

"Didn't we already talk?" I say cautiously and direct my gaze to the bed covers. He sits back on the bed and seems to be thinking. His face is helplessly distorted. I don't want him to worry about me. I don't want him to worry about me. Suddenly I wish he had gone. Then at least he would have made it clear that he just wanted to see what was going on with me. Now I have no idea what to do. I want to go.

A second later, I'm jumping off the bed. My trembling legs give me little support, so I have to hold on to the door. Haymitch quickly extends his hand, but then lowers it. "I'm going out," I announce in a firm voice.

"It's the middle of the night, sweetheart," Haymitch says, glancing at my watch. "Half past, to be exact."

Shrugging my shoulders, I stagger to the closet and almost tear it open. "It's still relatively early."

Even though my back is turned to him, I know he's shaking his head. "You can't go out like that -" Haymitch knows that he said something wrong because he falls silent before he has even finished the sentence. I turn and glare at him with an irritated expression on my face, tears streaming down my cheeks.

Haymitch bites his lower lip and gets off the bed. "I didn't mean it like that, sweetheart," he assures quickly and smirks. "But maybe you're just not in the right state to go out." I catch my breath as he wipes the tears from my cheek. His fingers are gentle and barely seem to touch my skin. The shadow of a touch, no more than the wisp of a touch.

"I'll fix that," I murmur, breaking away from him before I get any stupid ideas.

"You're a real stubborn one," he sighs.

I glance at Haymitch while studying the clothes in my closet. "I think I'll wear this," I murmur, more to myself than to him, running trembling fingers over the heavy fabric of the black dress. In contrast to the other pieces in my closet, it is still downright simple. The dress is floor length and falls in multiple velvety, black layers but is completely off shoulder. The velvet fabric widens a little at hip height and from there a heavy black fabric, embroidered with golden details, starts up to the chest. It doesn't offer much protection for my cleavage, but that's not in my interest right now. I carefully pull it out and want to go towards the bathroom.

At the door, I turn to Haymitch one last time. His face is soft and a sad smile plays on his lips. "What is?", I ask.

"You haven't changed a bit, you know?"

I look at him, perplexed, unable to say anything.

"Back then, when she died, you did exactly the same as you do now."

Silence. My throat is constricted.

"You went out, stayed up all night. You're still the same." He turns and leaves. The door clicks shut behind him.

You're still the same. His sentence doesn't make any sense to me, but it probably does to him. My feet are glued to the ground as if frozen. Of course I've changed. I'm not the Effie I was back then. I just can't be.

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Skyllen