TWO.    THE 68TH HUNGER GAMES.
May We Meet Again.

๑

The escort called her name. She heard it, everyone did. She knows the protocol, she has seen countless tributes walk to the stage, all of them with stiff and controlled movements like they could barely process their body's actions. Still, she couldn't do the same. She couldn't move. There were hundreds of names in that bowl. Hundreds and yet, she was the one chosen by... well, fate, she supposes. She wishes she could've just blamed the escort for it. The world feels distant, like she's watching it through a fogged window.

Someone has to nudge her for her to move and in seconds, Peacekeepers are next to her, making sure to stop her from running away if she was stupid enough to try to. She wishes she could, though she understands how pointless it'd be. She's heard the stories, she knows she'd be caught, even shot if she tried.

She forces herself to climb the steps to the stage, her eyes scanning the crowd, searching for her father and Ace while also trying not to trip and make a fool of herself. The stage feels far too high above the square, like she's standing on the edge of a cliff with the rest of District 10 staring up at her, waiting for her to be sacrificed like a lamb to slaughter. The escort, Tiberia, beams at her, as though her name being drawn is some grand honor. She doesn't even look human up close. Her teeth are too bright and sharp and Kenna feels the irrational fear that the woman could rip out her jugular with only one bite. Hunter, meet prey. But she wouldn't let herself be prey for long.

"Lovely!" Tiberia chirps, guiding Kenna toward the microphone. The crowd is silent, save for a baby crying somewhere near the back. Her hands tremble slightly, and she clasps them tightly behind her back to hide it. "Let's give her a round of applause, shall we?" Tiberia says, clapping enthusiastically. Her Capitol accent is grating to the ears.

Kenna's eyes scan the crowd again, searching for her father. When she finally finds him, his expression is pale, stricken—but his hands are gripping Ace's shoulders, holding him tightly against his side. Ace's face is buried in their father's sleeve. She swallows hard, forcing herself to look away. She can't handle the way her father is looking at her, like he's already grieving. Has he given up on her already? Is she already dead?

"And now," Tiberia continues, "for the boys." Kenna's stomach twists as the escort returns to the glass bowl, her manicured hand dipping inside with the same deliberate, exaggerated motion. She pulls out another slip of paper and unfolds it slowly, savoring the moment. "Shay Lang."

She knows him—or rather, knows of him. He's older than her, a rancher's son not unlike her, often seen working the cattle fields with his siblings. She spots him near the middle of the crowd, his face pale but composed. He doesn't hesitate as he steps forward, weaving through the crowd with steady, measured steps. The people part for him without a word, not a celebratory clap or whistle. She knows that look on his face; he's dissociating. Kenna's not sure how she feels about the thought that maybe they're more similar than they'll ever realize.

She watches him walk to the stage, stand next to her. He's a handsome one, with strong arms that have gone through labor, dark, almond-shaped eyes and short black hair. He's handsome in a rough, maybe even intimidating way if he wasn't currently looking like a deer caught in headlights. Kenna finds herself thinking of Finnick Odair, one of the Victors of the previous Games and how his good looks supposedly got him a bunch of sponsors—or at least that's what she's heard in school. The idea that Shay could already have an advantage over her makes her scowl.

When the time to shake hands comes, he's still in his little zone. Tiberia notices, she clears her throat to get his attention but Kenna rejoices with the fact she can have the upper hand, just once. She grabs his calloused hand and shakes it in a handshake, meeting his eyes. She's not trying to look intimidating but hopes she looks like it and less like she's about to cry her eyes out.

"Good luck," he says quietly, his voice low enough that only she can hear. There's no malice in it, no sarcasm. Just simple, quiet sincerity that is enough to break her.

As the anthem of Panem begins to play, the Peacekeepers step forward, escorting them toward the Justice Building. As they're led through the building's pristine halls, Kenna barely feels conscious enough to look around and take it all in. All she notices is that the air inside is cool and smells faintly of polished wood, a stark contrast to the dust and heat of the square outside, as if the District's richest and the people of the Capitol deserved to even have better air than the rest. The Peacekeepers guide her and Shay to separate rooms and Kenna doesn't resist as one of them places a hand on her shoulder and steers her into a small, sparsely furnished room. The door shuts behind her with a soft click, and just like that, she's alone.

The room is suffocatingly quiet. There's a single wooden chair and a table in the middle, a vase with wilted flowers perched on top like someone thought it might brighten the space. It does the opposite. Kenna feels like she can't breathe as a knot tightens in her stomach. She knows her father and Ace will come see her, after all they're all she has, but she has no idea what to say to them. She can't help thinking back to the way her father was looking at her when her name was announced.

The door creaks open before she can think any further, Ace runs to her first, his small arms wrapping around her waist before she even has a chance to speak. She stumbles slightly, caught off guard by the force of his hug, but she doesn't hesitate to pull him tightly against her. "I don't want them to take you," he chokes out, his voice muffled against her. "Please? Anyone but you."

Her throat tightens, and she has to fight to keep her voice from being shaky. "I know," she whispers, running a hand through his messy hair. "It'll be okay, buddy. I'll make it out and come find you."

"Ace, let her go," he says, his tone rougher than usual. "We don't have much time."

Kenna looks up and sees her father standing in the doorway, his face drawn and pale, his broad shoulders hunched like the weight of the world has finally broken him down. He struggles to make his way to her, but doesn't do it with any less determination, even with his hands shaking. His usual composure is gone, replaced by something raw and desperate. "Ace," he says again, more firmly this time, though his voice wavers slightly. "Go sit by the door. I need to talk to Kenna."

Ace hesitates, his grip on her tightening like he can keep her with him if he holds on hard enough. "But—"

"Now," their father snaps, his tone making Ace flinch. The boy sniffles, nodding reluctantly, and shuffles to the door, sitting down and hugging his knees. Kenna watches him go, her heart twisting, but before she can say anything, her father steps forward and grabs her shoulders. "Kenna," he says, his voice low but trembling with urgency, "I need you to listen to me. Really listen, alright?"

She nods. She's never seen him like this before, so unsteady and frantic.

"All of the things I taught you to butchering those animals back home, the anatomy, the weak points, all of it—it's your one advantage. Listen to me, Kenna. People aren't so different. The same rules apply." He pauses, his breathing uneven as he searches her face. "The throat. Do you hear me? The throat is the fastest way if you have something sharp enough. Aim for the jugular vein or the carotid artery—right here." He releases her shoulder with one hand and presses his calloused fingers to the side of her neck. "You cut here, and it's over fast. They'll bleed out in seconds."

Her stomach churns, and she shakes her head, pulling away slightly. "Dad, I—"

"You can," he says sharply, his voice trembling. "You have to. If it's them or you, you choose you every single time."

Her breath catches, but he barrels on, his desperation spilling out in a rush. "If you can't get to their throat, go for the heart. Do you understand? Just below the sternum, slightly to the left. It's harder, and you'll have to get close, but it's effective. If you're too far away or they're moving too much, aim for their legs—the inner thigh." He grabs her hand and presses it against her own thigh. "The femoral artery runs through here. If you cut deep enough, they'll bleed out fast."

She's not sure why but she finds herself shaking her head, her big eyes meeting his in a way that's pleading with him. Please, we don't have much time. I need to say goodbye. Let me say goodbye. None of this comes out, tears sting her eyes instead. "I don't want to do this," she whispers. "I want to go home with you, dad."

He steps closer, his voice trembling as he speaks. "I know, sweetheart. I know you do." He wraps his arms around her, pulling her close and letting her cry against his chest. "You have to fight and come home. You're all I have left, baby. You need to make it; if not for Ace or me, you have to fight for yourself. You're strong, stronger than you know."

"Just like you, dad," she whispers and she feels his arms around her tighten as if he can swallow her into his body to keep her safe. She can't find the words to tell him she's not only worried for herself, but also for him. "Take care of yourself while I'm gone."

When she pulls away, Ace is next to her once more. "I want to come with you," he says, his cheeks red from all the crying he's been doing. "Why can't I come with you? We do everything together."

"Not this time, buddy," she says quietly, wiping off her tears to give him another hug. He's an angel, she's about to become a devil. She'd rather keep it this way if it means Ace remains her pure little boy. "Don't cry, okay? This isn't a goodbye."

The door creaks open behind them, and Kenna pulls back, her heart leaping into her throat. A Peacekeeper stands in the doorway, his expression unreadable. "It's time," he says flatly.

Kenna's father stiffens, his jaw clenching, but he nods. "We'll be out in a minute." But the Peacekeeper stands there, making it clear there was no more time for them. The man looks like he's about to start an argument, but bites his tongue and turns back around to look at his daughter. It's different to how he looked at her before, more determined, more hopeful. She supposes that's his way of agreeing to fight too until she's back home.

"Remember what I said," he tells her, blinking back his last tears. "And remember what you're fighting for... who you're fighting for."

The Peacekeeper comes to her side and touches her shoulder, ready to lead her out of the room, but for one last time before she goes, she shakes the guard's hand off and runs to hug her father again. The rush of it knocks him back, but he doesn't hesitate to wrap his arms around her again.

"I'll do everything I need, dad," she cries. "I love you and I'll win and make everything right. I promise we'll see each other again."

Neither of them wants to ever let go. "I love you more, sweetheart."

When the Peacekeeper forces her to pull away, she shoots her family one last good look. All she has ever wanted and needed was in this small room that she would now walk away from. She breathes them in and she doesn't exhale until she's led outside of the room.

During the ride to the train station, Kenna repeats it all in her head. All the things she's ever been taught in her life—from the most useful, like how to hold a knife to the simplest, like how to start a fire. Most importantly, she thinks about her father's advice. She had killed before; she thinks animals can't be that different to people. For her sake, she decides they're not.

The station is swarming with reporters and Kenna feels thankful for the way her thoughts remaining practical instead of emotional has stopped her crying until she looks mostly presentable for the people with the cameras. Shay, like her, has decided to play it safe; giving them nothing to focus on but a neutral expression, even though she's sure he's as nervous as she is. Kids like them never got a lot of attention.

Tiberia gives them a quick tour of the tribute train, but appears mostly disinterested while doing so. Now there are no cameras around, she acts cold and unapproachable, like she's almost offended at having to handle her and Shay. Kenna doesn't dwell on it, more than interested in taking all of it in. The train is unlike anything she's ever seen in her life, so luxurious that she finds herself wishing she could live in it forever. She certainly doesn't mind having a bedroom with its own private bathroom with limitless hot water, even if she knows it won't last more than a day.

Before supper, she washes herself with water so hot it momentarily feels like being burnt alive—and if she spent most of it crying, no one was around to see or hear it. She changes back into her old dress and forces herself to walk to the dining room, despite having no appetite whatsoever. She's hoping that if someone's missing from the supper, it'll be Tiberia; she's actually kind of intrigued to meet their mentor.

The infamous Oscar Torres, the man that is many different things to many different people. To Panem, he is the winner of the 31st Hunger Games, an ex-commentator of the Games alongside Flickerman himself, previously beloved by all as the person that redefined what meant to be a Victor. For a few years, it was impossible to not see his face plastered in every Capitol product, hear his voice discuss the latest news in entertainment or on everything Games-related. To District 10, he was the man who flew too close to the sun and when burnt, dragged everyone else along with him to drown together. A fuck-up, if you will.

He is, after all, the reason why District 10 is allowed only one mentor for both its tributes and why, consequently, there hasn't been a victor from their District ever since.

The details of how exactly this came to be, Kenna doesn't know. But she can assume it has something to do with the incident in which Oscar Torres was seen escorted out of a Capitol party with bruised, bloody knuckles and the Head Gamemaker didn't make any public appearances for a while.

She's not sure what exactly she expects to see when she enters the dining room. Everyone but Shay is already there, sitting around a table full of drool-worthy food that makes Kenna's stomach growl in excitement. Tiberia has changed into a new nauseatingly colorful outfit and her hair has now gone from teal to bright red with what she can only assume is a wig. She waves at Kenna with a bored look on her face that screams she'd rather be anywhere but there.

Oscar Torres stands up when she comes in, a charming smile on his face as he extends his hand. She supposes he still carries some of the celebrity glow that once made him so irresistible to the Capitol; the sunlight catching on the fine, tailored cut of his dark suit. It wasn't flashy—District 10 didn't do flashy and she supposed he'd carry his home with him even if he didn't want to—but it was well-fitted, the kind of suit that whispered money. His hair, a deep brown that was starting to salt at the temples, was neatly combed, but in an almost natural, casual way and he seems to have avoided any Capitol trends in the way he kept his face devoid of added surgical features. It was only the neatly groomed mustache framing his upper lip that made him look slightly rugged, seasoned for his age.

"Well, you must be the girl. Kenna, right?"

She feels a little uncomfortable under his scrutinizing gaze, like he's already making plans for her. She nods and shakes his hand anyway, trying to look less like a nervous farm-girl and more like someone he should count on to survive. "Where's Shay?" she asks.

"He probably needs a moment," the man says, sitting back down on his chair and motioning for her to do the same. She sits afar from both adults. "I was overwhelmed when I first went aboard this train too. I'm sure he'll come when he can no longer ignore his stomach." He notices how she's staring at the food in front of her; stuffed turkey and mashed potatoes, vegetable soup and a salad with all kinds of greens and cheeses on a big bowl. "You can start eating," he reassures her.

By the time she's finished her first plate, Shay makes his way into the dining room as well. He looks just as awestruck as she probably did when she saw how much food was on the table. While the two of them eat like it's their last day on earth (might as well be), Tiberia and Oscar barely touch theirs, the latter more occupied with the bottle of wine.

"You want a glass?" he asks Shay, who got caught looking at him and now goes through all shades of red.

Tiberia groans. "Torres—"

"What? He's, uh, seventeen. Aren't you, son?" Shay sheepishly nods. "Hell, that's when I started. He'll be fine, Tibby."

The woman seethes. "Don't call me that, you glorified alc—"

He shakes his head with a mock disappointed frown. "Not in front of the children, Tibby, please."

Shay shyly accepts the glass of wine Oscar poured for him and that's about the time Tiberia gives up, standing up and throwing her hands up dramatically. "You're impossible. I'll be in my chambers, I'm sure you can deal with them yourself." She stomps out of the roof and even though her bedroom is nowhere near them, they all hear the slamming of her door.

Oscar shrugs like this was a common occurrence. "You know how ex lovers' quarrels go," he says and her and Shay exchange a look.

Kenna's face scrunches up in disgust. "You and her...?"

"Oh, yeah," he says amusedly. "She can't stand me."

She's starting to think all of this is a joke to him, because he's grinning way too much for a guy who's supposed to help them not get killed and who's success rate has been pretty shit ever since he became a mentor in the first place. "C'mon." He passes her a glass of wine as well, though admittedly, he has poured a lot less than he did for Shay. "Takes the edge off and pairs well with meat."

She shoots him a distrustful look while taking the glass but doesn't drink it. "Shouldn't you be teaching us how to fight, how to survive, rather than giving us alcohol?"

Oscar rolls his eyes. "Honey, unless you're planning on murdering him right now, I can assure you that you can have a moment of peace before we start discussing the grim stuff."

She looks at Shay, who's drinking his wine but raises an eyebrow at her the moment he feels his eyes on her. "You can't murder me before the Games start," he says, but his tone is lighthearted enough that she can tell he knows she wasn't even thinking about it. "It's against the rules."

Kenna can't help but wonder if him accepting the drink was something he did because he actually wanted to or if he just used it as a way to get their mentor to like him. She knows she has to make Oscar like her, or at least give enough of a care for her that he actually tries to get her out of the Games alive.

And as she watches him, seeing all the money his victory provided on the clothes he's wearing, she can't help but think of her father back home and how much her family could use it. She'd be able to cover all of her father's medical costs and get him to the best doctors of the Capitol. She would hire enough farmhands to take care of her entire neighborhood, enough to make sure her father and Ace would never have to worry about work again. Their house would be so big that she'd finally be able to adopt all the stray dogs of the District and Ace would never feel bored again.

And if all that can be achieved by just making sure Oscar Torres likes her, so be it. Kenna downs the wine in one gulp.

The man chuckles. "Yeah, okay, easy there," he says, but his expression softens; even if it's only for a second, she catches it and she names it a fighting chance.

After dinner is over, Oscar leads them to a different compartment to watch the recap of the reapings across Panem and get a first impression of their soon-to-be opponents. Kenna sits next to Shay and for a moment, she finds something comfortable about being around him, before she corrects herself. This will not be a team game; If it's them or you, you choose you every single time. Her father's words make the remnants of wine on her lips taste sour.

The faces of the other tributes blur into each other after a while and it's very few that stand out in her mind. The oldest tribute for this year's Games is, disturbingly enough, the male tribute from District 1; a Career. She can't keep her eyes off him as she watches him volunteer and walk to the stage with a proud smile on his face. He has a face full of moles and bruises, a head of curly dark hair and eyebags that definitely make him look older than eighteen. She glances at Shay next to her, who writes his name down. Kaiser; She'll have to keep an eye on him.

The District 2 duo also looks pretty excited to be part of the games, with the blonde boy way more outwardly joyful than the dark-skinned girl next to him. They're also Careers and Oscar tells them all about how kids like them train to compete in the Hunger Games, seeing it as the highest honor for them.

Shay listens to him with a clenched jaw, not unlike Kenna, who's mind already going to all the worst-case scenarios. "Are they so confident they'll win that they don't care about what happens if they don't?" he asks.

"I don't think they care," Oscar says. "But really, it doesn't matter. Tributes from Districts 1, 2 and 4 often band together, make a temporary alliance. Sometimes they'll take in other tributes in their alliance if they think they're strong enough—but don't even think about it." It's a bitter realization for Kenna to see he's looking at Shay when he says that. "Careers are backstabbing little shits, can't trust them with your back turned. You'd rather be alone than with them around."

When the male tribute of the District 5 is announced, Kenna's stomach drops and she feels all the food she previously ate threatening to spill over. For a second, she thinks it's Ace; the little boy has the same blonde hair and big eyes, he even cries and holds onto his father the same way as her little brother did. Only this one's name is Chip and instead of protecting him, Kenna will have to put an end to his life if she wants to make it back to actual Ace.

"Fuck," Shay says, burying his face into his hands. "Fucking hell, this is- he doesn't even look old enough to have his name in there." Oscar says nothing, but he looks away from the screen as well. It feels like somehow, they're all to blame for this, for allowing it to happen. But then again, aren't they also children? Wasn't Oscar Torres a child too when he had to slaughter his way out of the Games?

Kenna gets up. "I'm done watching."

"It's important that you do," Oscar starts, but she cuts him off.

"I said I'm done watching." Her gaze must have been intense enough for him to give up on trying to convince her.

She goes to her room and closes the door behind her. She puts on music loud enough to drown out the noise of her throwing up, takes another hot shower and climbs onto her bed. The stress and exhaustion of the day catches up to her quick and she's soon drifted to sleep, holding the other pillow of her bed in her arms for a sense of comfort she's not sure if she'll even deserve soon. The last thought in her mind is that maybe, this was all a bad dream after all and when she opened her eyes again, she'd be sleeping in her bed back home.

Alas, when she wakes up, she's still on a train making its way to the Capitol. 

๑

AUTHOR'S NOTE!   this past few weeks i have been sick, i've missed a whole ass trip abroad and have avoided anything uni-related to preserve my own sanity (consequently making things worse for future thena).... but the good news is, i have been writing :D

introduction to shay and much more importantly, to oscar! he's the secondary main character, i guess you could say and he's my favorite manfailure ever. i could write (and have written for like, myself) so many essays on oscar and his relationship with kenna that i think it has turned into an actual hyperfixation. i hope you get to enjoy his character as much as i do! 

plus, yk... pedro pascal.

thank you for reading and i'll (hopefully) see you soon in the next chapter! <3