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KILL FOR YOUR LOVE.

act three.

(chapter fifty-seven, the aftermath of the seventy-second)

victor's village, 72 ADD.

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ORION HALE WAS PERHAPS the only person in the entirety of District Ten who did not question Juniper Hale. If she threw a fit and destroyed all of the plates in the house, the man would silently clean the shards up and go buy new dishes. If she collapsed into a heap of tears, he would hold her tight until she stopped. If she ever slept with a knife close to her chest, Orion would quietly slip into her bedroom and take the blade away with the fear of her accidentally slitting her own throat. He poured all of her liquor into the drains whenever he found any. He would throw away any morphling bottles. He was the only one who truly cared in the district. 

But he was riddled with guilt and regret. 

He couldn't look at Juniper without wincing. Every time he looked at her, he felt nauseous. He had to look away whenever he glanced at her eyes. People just thought it was because Juniper Hale looked too much like the late Justice Hale. Or because Juniper Hale looked too much like the late Olsen Hale. But whatever it was, it made the Victor of the Seventy-Second terrified.

And it was because, with every hurt glance away from Orion Hale, it got Juniper petrified that he blamed her. And the Victor didn't think she could stand her father blaming her. She didn't hate him for it, she blamed herself too, but it was her father. He had stood by her when no-one else did. But now, slowly, he was starting to realise what she was. Who she truly was. 

It was well into the night in Victors' Village. There was the occasional hoot from an owl. The moon was high in the sky, stars twinkling brightly. Brent Higgins's lights were extinguished as he had fallen asleep hours ago. Lucy was still awake, though was slightly drifting off. And then Juniper and Orion Hale were sitting in the living room. 

Both of them should have gone to bed ages ago, but they couldn't bear to do it. Both family members were plagued with nightmares. Juniper with the horrors of the Games and Orion with something no-one would dare ask or know. And so, they sat on the couch in the living room, some Capitol rubbish on the television.

And as they watched the TV, silence enveloped them. Orion had his eyes fixated on the screen whilst Juniper kept glancing at him. But he wouldn't look at her. His jaw was clenched and his brows furrowed. He wouldn't look at her. He hadn't glanced at her all night. 

Did he really blame Juniper? Did he blame his daughter for the death of his son? Or was he appalled with what she had become? He didn't let her go the minute she stepped off of the train in Ten those few months ago, but now, with the next Reaping, he wouldn't dare look at her. But Juniper stared at him and she noticed that more wrinkles caressed his skin as grey strands illuminated his hair. Deep, violet patches were drawn underneath his eyes. He looked exhausted. Tired. Destroyed. 

The Hale girl could feel her airways starting to constrict, beginning to pant for air as she choked on nothing. But Orion didn't notice. He was too enthralled with the rubbish on the television. But as Juniper silently begged for oxygen, trying to suck in as much as she could, she began to wonder something. 

Did Orion blame her? He couldn't have. If he blamed her, then why had he slipped the blades away from her chest when she was sleeping? Why did he throw away all her morphling and alcohol? Why had he silently cleaned up whatever mess she had created and held her when she sobbed? If a man despised her, blamed her, he wouldn't do such things. But he couldn't even look at her. He winced whenever he did. He would always blanch. 

She knew the death of him would destroy them. He was always the one that held them together. But Orion Hale must have known. He must have prepared himself for the death of his children. Yes, he didn't intend on one of them to come back, but he must have known he would lose a child. And he had a broken, destroyed, angry daughter on his hands, someone who had endured too much. He had to take care of her. He needed to take care of her. She had no-one else. 

But he couldn't even look at her. 

Not many people could look at her. The people in the districts always cowered whenever she was near, complete fear in their eyes. Brent Higgins, sometimes, would avoid her. The people in the Capitol had mixed reactions. Some loved her, others were petrified of her. Not many people could look at her and she didn't blame them. She was a murderous monster. She had turned into something she wasn't. But Orion was her father. She was a part of him, she was his daughter. He should look at her. He needed to look at her or Juniper was sure she was going to suffocate to death. 

When the choking on thin air got too much, Juniper swiftly got up from the couch and headed to the kitchen. Her throat was sore and scratchy, her body was shaking. Her joints and limbs creaked with every step she took, ears ringing. There was a pounding sensation in her head as her heart thudded and thudded. She needed a glass of water. 

Going into the kitchen, Juniper looked through the cupboards and pulled out a clean-looking glass. They didn't have any fresh water in the fridge, none of the cool, refreshing type, and so, she had to stalk to the sink. Turning the tap on, she put the glass underneath the steady stream of water and turned it off when she was satisfied with how much was in it. And then, in one go, she downed the entire glass and placed it on the counter.

She put her hands on the counter as she leaned over the sink. She had the urge to puke. She needed to puke. The room was too stuffy. It was too warm. Nausea began to fill her up as Juniper looked out of the window. 

The Village was completely dark. She could barely see anything except the cascading lights that came from Lucy's house that reflected onto a nearby statue. The woman was still awake, then. Juniper looked over at Brent's. He was fast asleep. Juniper sighed as she ran a hand down her face, pulling it back to see it damp with sweat. 

Did Orion Hale really blame her? If he didn't, then why couldn't he look at her? Was he that disgusted by her? Juniper did not know and she didn't want to know. She didn't want her father being terrified of her. Or being disappointed. Or appalled. 

She would never dream of disappointing him. It wasn't like she wanted to be Reaped and especially not with him. How was that even possible? It had never happened before except for the Sixty-Sixth and even then, Juniper wasn't quite sure they were twins. Twins had never been Reaped. It was impossible. Yes, there were siblings in the Games, but they were chosen in different ones. Won different arenas. Juniper could vaguely remember a brother and sister duo in One. But she couldn't remember their names or what Games they won. They were Careers'. 

But it shouldn't have happened. It couldn't have happened. Juniper felt her airways restricting much too tight. How could this happen? Why did it happen? What did Juniper Hale do to deserve this? Yes, she was a rebellious child, but nothing severe. Why her? Why him?

"June?"

Spinning around, Juniper looked to see her father standing in the doorway of the kitchen. Concern was etched into his eyes as he leaned against the frame. He looked just as weak as Juniper was.

"Yeah?" Juniper asked. She swore he was looking out of the window. He couldn't look at her. 

"I'm going upstairs now..." Orion muttered. He looked and sounded exhausted. "It's late so..."

"Yeah, okay." Juniper nodded. She could feel her fingertips shaking and as Orion went to walk away from the kitchen, aiming to go to his room, she added, "Pa?"

Orion turned around.

"I love you... by the way," she said. And it was true. She did love her father and she just wished he would look at her. "I just... don't tell you enough sometimes."

The Hale man was frozen in his tracks and clenched his jaw before saying, whispering nearly, "I love you too, June... goodnight." 

As Orion left, Juniper could hear his heavy footsteps going up the stairs and into his bedroom. And as the door shut close, the Hale girl could feel herself trembling. He couldn't even look at her. He didn't look at her. 

He blamed her. Juniper knew it. She could see it in his eyes. It was written all over his face. It reeked off of him and it nearly made Juniper tumble to the ground as she felt her airways constricting once more. 

She knew he wouldn't leave his bedroom until tomorrow. If she knocked on the door and begged for him to let her in, he wouldn't. Whenever he was in that room, it was like he didn't exist. Juniper felt herself sigh as she looked back out of the window. 

In. Out. 

In. Out. 

In. Out. 

Ash. Cedar. Leona. Rayon. Dallas. Wing. Hermes. Justice. 

They were all dead because of her. She had killed them. She probably did deserve this. No. She did deserve this. There was no wonder why Orion Hale couldn't look at her. He would have been watching the Games in the Milking Station. All eyes would be on him. He would be disappointed. Disgusted. Appalled. He probably couldn't look his fellow coworkers in the eye considering his daughter had slaughtered his son and seven others. 

Juniper looked out of the window and continued surveying the area. She tried to ignore the tears brimming in her eyes. She didn't want to cry. She couldn't cry. She hated strong emotions. Strong emotions were what had gotten her there in the first place. Juniper Hale should have just died in that arena. It would have saved a lot of people pain. It would have saved herself and it would have saved Orion Hale. He could probably stand two children dead than one murdered and the other the murderer. 

But as Juniper thought this, she realised her legs were moving faster than her brain and by the time it caught up, she was halfway out of the door, the cold breeze lapping at her skin. She needed some fresh air. She couldn't stand that stuffy, warm kitchen. It was like she was dying in there. 

Taking deep breaths, wiping away tears with a trembling hand, Juniper bit her lip as she stood in the 'greenery' of the Village. Everyone in the district would be asleep. Brent would be passed out drunk. But Lucy was still awake. Her lights were on still and some of her windows were open in order to let in fresh air. Her kitchen and living room lights were still on and Juniper could see the flashing of the TV. And so, she began to set off. 

She didn't know why she was going to Lucy Stevens. The woman couldn't help her. Juniper didn't even know what she needed help with, but she still made her way over. 

Lucy Stevens, the Victor of the Sixty-First, had changed and no-one knew why. The distant, faint person that had mentored Juniper months ago had disappeared. She was smiling more now. She was cracking more jokes. She had the sarcastic personality that seemed to mirror Haymitch Abernathy. Lucy Stevens was starting to become the girl she was before her Games, not that anyone remembered them, but there was certainly a difference. She was more alive, more alive than Juniper could ever be. 

"Lucy!" Juniper shouted as she rammed her knuckles against the wood of her front door. She could see the figure of the woman getting up from her couch in the living room and it wasn't long before the front door opened. 

"How are you still awake?" Lucy questioned. She looked tired and seemed to be on the brink of falling asleep with her red hair a wild mess. 

"Can I come in?" Juniper asked, shivering. She seemed to underestimate the coldness of the nights in District Ten. "It's freezing out here." 

"Um — sure?" Lucy hummed, opening the door more to let the eighteen-year-old in. "Why are you awake? It's the middle of the night." 

"Why are you awake?" Juniper rolled her eyes as she began to move into the woman's living room. Sitting down on an armchair, she looked at the television. It was the same Capitol rubbish that she and her father were watching before. "I... have a... problem." 

"You have a problem?" Lucy questioned as she resumed her state of laying on the couch. She closed her eyes momentarily and the Hale girl feared she was asleep before she added, "What's your problem?"

"My father..." Juniper grumbled. "He won't... he won't look at me, Lucy." 

The Victor of the Sixty-First sat up for a moment, opening her eyes as she studied at Juniper. She then laid back down as she muttered, "Give him time. Something is probably bothering him—" 

"Yeah, I'm bothering him," Juniper said as she brought her knees up to her chest. "He won't look at me at all... and I think he... well—" 

"And you think what?" Lucy asked. 

"That he blames me." 

At this, the Stevens woman sat up properly and did not lay down again. She studied Juniper and seemed to have a war raging on in her head. There was a moment of silence before she asked, timidly, "Forgive my insensitivity... but blames you for what?" 

"Everything." Juniper sighed. "All of it... it's just... I think he blames me for everything that happened." 

"Juniper." Lucy groaned as she ran a hand down her face. "He, in no way, blames you for anything that happened." 

"And how do you know that?" 

"Because I just do," she said. "Orion Hale does not blame you for anything, Juniper. He has no reason to—" 

"I killed—" 

"It's the Hunger Games," Lucy reminded her. She interrupted the girl to save her the pain of muttering the boy's name. "And he knows that. Juniper... he doesn't blame you for anything... it's just—"

"It's just what?" Juniper questioned. She looked away from the woman and focused her attention on the Capitol rubbish that was on the television. 

"He lost his son, Juniper..." Lucy said quietly in case one misspoken word could set her off.  "And your lives were extremely different months ago. He's grieving and mourning as are you... but he doesn't blame you." 

Juniper clenched her jaw as she processed the woman's words. Orion Hale was mourning and grieving him. He was his son. But he was Juniper's brother, her twin. Orion Hale wasn't the one who had to kill him. Juniper could feel herself getting worked up, but she knew Lucy's words were true. The man was mourning the loss of his son. How could he bring himself to blame Juniper?

"But he won't look at me..." Juniper muttered. "I... need him and he won't look at me." 

"He will." Lucy shook her head. "Give it time, Juniper. Give him time as well as yourself... the aftermath of someone's Games is never easy." 

Juniper nodded as she said, "Thanks, Lucy... and I'm sorry for coming so late." 

"Ah, I can never sleep so it's fine," Lucy replied as she ran a hand down her face. "Anyway, I'm pretty invested in this Capitol rubbish." 

Juniper tried to laugh and for the rest of the night, she sat in the armchair watching the television with Lucy. She didn't sleep that night and not the next one because she kept thinking about her father. Lucy assured her he didn't blame her. She said the aftermath of someone's Games are never easy. She said to give it time. But Juniper just wanted her father. After everything that happened, she just wanted Orion Hale. 

But then she thought back to everything her father had done since she got home. He had poured all of her liquor down the drain. He had thrown all of her drugs and morphling into the bin. Whenever she slept with a knife close to her chest when her paranoia was high, he would creep into her room and slip it away in the fear she would accidentally slit her throat. Whenever she had a fit, he would remain silent and clean up after her. And whenever she went tumbling to the ground, sobbing, he would hold her. 

So, Orion Hale didn't blame her. Lucy just said he was in mourning, grieving the loss of him. And maybe Orion didn't look at Juniper because she did, indeed, look too much like her late twin. It made sense. Despite being the opposite genders, the two had moments where they looked too much like each other. And some, in the Milking Station, would whisper that she looked too much like Olsen Hale, someone Juniper never knew and wouldn't ask her father about. She gathered that, whoever it was, had been part of the family and was the cause of Orion's nightmares. 

But Juniper tried to dispel any thoughts about that and kept thinking of what Lucy had said. The aftermath of anyone's Games were not easy. It was filled with mourning, grieving, sorrow, and anger. It affected not only the Victor, but the Victor's family, if they had any. But Lucy had assured her, the next day, that it would eventually get better. That the pain would numb. Not disappear, but numb. She gave herself as an example. Eleven-years had passed since her survival and yet, her blood was still pumping. She had mentored two tributes to victory. Lucy Stevens assured her that everything would be all right even if it wasn't now. And Juniper persuaded herself to believe her, even if it was for a short period of time. 

That next week, President Snow visited her. 

⇢ ˗ˏˋ matz 🎧 !

— yet again, this book is written third-person limited (i think). juniper doesn't know everything that is going on !