ACT ONE, CHAPTER FOUR
Consequences of Your Actions

     TWO WEEKS HAD PASSED SINCE HAYMITCH WON THE GAMES, and his return was highly anticipated by those of District 12. With Haymitch being their only living victor and second victor overall in all of the Games' fifty years of existence, he was bound to have an extravagant homecoming.

     Rhiannon finally felt that things were beginning to look up. Orville's back, while still with stitches, was healing nicely and he was taking on a more active role in the home. When Rhiannon returned from her shift at the Mercers', dinner was freshly made and already waiting for her and Wai Po at the table. Rhiannon and her father's relationship was also improving somewhat, the tension between them slowly dissolving. After witnessing Haymitch face death on multiple occasions, Rhiannon acquired a new awareness of life's ephemerality that she hadn't had before.

     Orville, frankly, didn't care for the reason behind his daughter's eagerness to rekindle the relationship between them. He was happy to feel appreciated by his own blood in any capacity. Wai Po would always have her reserves about him, but even her otherwise cold demeanor warmed up towards her son-in-law. That's not to say that she suddenly didn't believe in the bad luck cast across the family, because she very much did so. However, she couldn't bear to wipe the happiness from her family members' faces with her pessimistic thoughts.

     Haymitch was due to return in the next few days, but for the time being, Rhiannon and the Abernathys had his frequent television appearances to comfort themselves with. The first week following the Games, Haymitch was being patched up by the Capitol's medical professionals until he was brand new. Now, he's been broadcasted seemingly nonstop. When he wasn't being interviewed by Caesar Flickerman, his highlights from the Games were being played on repeat.

     As reassuring as it was to see Haymitch alive and well, Rhiannon itched to see him in person, to be able to hold him in her arms. While she and Haymitch were previously reserved with their affection for one another, Rhiannon was prepared to throw that belief system out the window. She was ready to stand on the stage of the Justice Building and declare her love for Haymitch Abernathy, loud enough for even those in neighboring districts to hear.

     Currently, Rhiannon was working an extra shift in the Mercers' store to assist with Ione's absence. Since Maysilee's death, she hasn't helped with the family's business. Instead, she's been holed up in her room, burrowed underneath the sheets of her bed. Neither of her parents forced her to resume her previous lifestyle, both having had their fair share of loss due to the Games throughout the years.

     Thankfully, Rhiannon was more than willing to complete Ione's tasks in addition to her own. After all, Rhiannon couldn't help but feel guilty that Haymitch was returning but Maysilee wasn't. She worried that their friendship would never be the same again. It wasn't like Rhiannon could've prevented Maysilee being reaped, or her death — and Haymitch had no control over the fact either. But did Ione see it that way? Rhiannon couldn't tell.

     Mrs. Mercer exited the back room while carrying a cardboard crate, "This is the last one and then you're all set for the day." She set the crate onto the floor near where Rhiannon was organizing the vegetables. Mrs. Mercer shot a genuine smile in Rhiannon's direction, "Thanks again for helping out, Rhiannon." Rhiannon redirected her attention from the shelves to Mrs. Mercer, who was becoming teary-eyed. The woman placed a hand on Rhiannon's shoulder, pressing her lips tightly together, "Thank you."

     Rhiannon nodded, softly smiling in reply, "Of course. Anything I can do to help...I will." Mrs. Mercer dropped her hand, wrapping her arms around herself instead.

     "Ione will come around," Mrs. Mercer reassured Rhiannon. "I lost a good friend to the Games, too, while I was still in school..." She shrugged, "...the grief never completely goes away, but it dulls eventually." She motioned towards Rhiannon, "As I'm sure you know, with your mother."

     Rhiannon inhaled a sharp breath through her nostrils before nodding, "Yeah..." The grief felt for one's mother was arguably one of the worst pains, in Rhiannon's opinion, but she didn't have it in her to express her thoughts to this woman, who was still clearly grieving a past loss.

     Mrs. Mercer glanced down at the last crate and shooed Rhiannon, "Y'know what, Rhiannon, go. I'll handle this."

     "Are you sure? Because I don't mind — "

     "I'm sure," Mrs. Mercer interrupted. Her faint smile returned, "Really, you've done more than enough around here. Go home, spend time with your family before Haymitch comes home." She quipped an eyebrow, "Then you won't want to keep your hands off of him." Rhiannon awkwardly laughed at the comment, suddenly more than ready to go home for the day.

     She wiped her hands on her pants before walking towards the door, "I'll see you tomorrow, Mrs. Mercer."

     The woman waved goodbye, "Thanks again, hun." Rhiannon exited the building and began making her way back to the Seam. She took the long route, swinging past the vacant Victors' Village that would soon be inhabited by the Abernathys. Rhiannon was curious as to what would happen with their current house; would it remain in their name? Be given to another struggling family?

     Eyeing the graveyard of a street, Rhiannon wondered if the Abernathys would feel lonely by themselves in the Village. Rhiannon would eagerly spend all her free time at the house, most likely getting lost in the maze of the floorplan. While she obviously hadn't been inside any one of the houses, Rhiannon could tell that each house had a multitude of bedrooms — the sizes of which were probably more square footage than that of her entire house.

     Rhiannon continued on her way, about to cut through the Hob. As she entered the black market, the rustle and bustle of the different tables filled her eardrums. With the new influx of foodstuffs and supplies on the horizon, people were eager as ever to trade their belongings for better items. Rhiannon eyed a man trade multiple vintage items for a ring with a small jewel in the center. Soon after, he traded a bag of herbs for a loaf of bread.

     Rhiannon figured the man was preparing for a toasting, the ritual people in 12 perform immediately after getting married. After the short, traditional ceremony, the newly-wed couple cross the threshold into their home, make their first fire, and toast a piece of bread. As she continued making her way through the Hob, Rhiannon suddenly found herself fantasizing about performing a toasting herself.

     With who? She pondered. With Haymitch? A girlish grin forced its way upon her face as heat rose into her cheeks, making Rhiannon glance towards the ground in embarrassment. She lightly shook her head free of the fantasy, only for someone to grab onto her arm as she passed by.

     Rhiannon's head shot up, her body initially tense in panic. Upon realizing that it was just Greasy Sae, she relaxed.

     "Greasy Sae, what — ?"

     "Girl, listen to me." The smile wiped itself clean from Rhiannon's face at Greasy Sae's serious tone. The middle-aged woman gripped Rhiannon's arms, "They're coming."

     Rhiannon's eyebrows pinched together, "...who's coming?"

     Greasy Sae glanced around their surroundings, "Peacekeepers. Coming for you. For the boy's family. You need to leave —"

     "What — ?"

     "— right now. A train should be passing through the station within the next half hour —"

     "Greasy Sae — what?" Rhiannon shook her head in disbelief, "Who told you this?"

     "I overheard it just now," she explained. She turned her head and nodded in the direction Rhiannon was originally walking in, "Look. Over there." Rhiannon followed the woman's line of vision and saw Peacekeepers departing the Hob. "I heard them asking around for where the boy's family lives. Where the boy's girl — " Greasy Sae poked Rhiannon's chest with her index finger " — lives. That's you."

     Rhiannon was too confused to respond. Why would they need to know where we lived?

     "Listen, girl, that little trick your boy played didn't go over too well up there." Rhiannon caught on to "up there" referencing the Capitol, since those residing there believe they're above the districts, naturally. Greasy Sae nodded in the general direction of the train station, "If you want to live, your best bet is to get out of here. Now."

     Rhiannon's mouth went agape, "But — but my dad, Wai Po. Haymitch's family, for God's sake — !" Rhiannon ripped herself free of Greasy's Sae grip and began running in the direction of the Seam, through the very same exit the Peacekeepers went through moments before. Her stride was cut short as the sound of heavy boots clambering against the Seam's dirt paths echoed off of the shacks' shingles. Greasy Sae had caught up next to Rhiannon just in time to grab her arm, preventing her from going further into the Seam.

     A squadron of Peacekeepers were walking through the Seam, in the direction of the Si and Abernathy residences.

     The woman, obviously agitated that Rhiannon wasn't listening to her, instructed her again, "Rhiannon Si — " Greasy Sae didn't even have the chance to continue her thought before, even from their spot right outside the Hob, they could hear Peacekeepers barging into homes. Once again, Rhiannon broke herself free of Greasy Sae's grip to run towards the commotion. She ignored the woman's yells after her, "Girl — !"

     Rhiannon desperately wanted to intervene before she was too late, but it seemed that this wish of hers wouldn't be granted. As she neared her own house, Rhiannon heard incoherent yelling.

     Then, finally, gunshots.

     Rhiannon skidded to a stop so abruptly that she fell onto all fours. She watched with wide eyes, gasping for air, as Peacekeepers exited her house, dragging along two limp bodies out the front door. One belonging to a middle-aged man, and the other an elderly woman. Further down the path, Rhiannon watched as a similar scene played out. A set of Peacekeepers dragging out another pair of bodies. A woman's.

     A child's.

     Rhiannon sat back on her heels, digging her fingers into her hair. She dragged her nails along her scalp as she shook her head, "No, no, no..."

     Greasy Sae had caught up to Rhiannon once more, this time, grabbing onto Rhiannon's arms with an iron-clad grip.

     The woman kneeled in front of Rhiannon, shielding the girl from the Peacekeeper's view, hissing, "Girl, you need to leave District 12 — now!" At the onset of Rhiannon's sobs, Greasy Sae shook the girl hard enough for her to focus on the woman. Greasy Sae's tone became disturbingly calm, "Rhiannon, I am truly sorry about this. But you need to leave if you want to live. If you want any chance at seeing your boy again."

     Rhiannon looked into the woman's Seam eyes, able to see the resemblance of Haymitch's within them. Haymitch, she remembered. What's going to happen to Haymitch?

     Greasy Sae raised her eyebrows, "You understand?" Rhiannon hesitantly nodded. "Okay," Greasy Sae replied. She pointed off to the distance, "Train station." Rhiannon nodded again. "You're a smart girl. You'll figure it out," the woman reassured her. Unable to muster up the strength to speak words, Rhiannon wordlessly nodded once again. "Now, go."

    Rhiannon moved past Greasy Sae in the direction of the train station, but turned on her heel to ask Greasy Sae a favor, "My friends —"

     "Will be fine," Greasy Sae reassured her.

     "And Haymitch —"

     "It'll be alright, girl, I promise." Greasy Sae swallowed the build-up of saliva in her mouth. Using her word to her advantage was in the name of the game as a merchant in the Hob, but it didn't make lying to this poor girl any easier. But, right now, Rhiannon needed to hear empty promises.

     She shooed her, "Be selfish for once and go!" Rhiannon nodded one last time, slightly disoriented from the rapid succession of events, and took off in the direction of the train station as fast as her legs would carry her. The humidity in the air clung to her skin, creating a sticky sensation that only intensified with the sweat produced through exertion.

     Rhiannon slowed down once she neared the train station, panic beginning to sink in at its vacancy. She looked in both directions, hoping to see a train appearing around the corner. At nothing, Rhiannon felt her heart began to palpitate as the day's most recent events came flooding back.

     Rather than chewing on her nails or counting along her fingers, Rhiannon felt an unbearable sensation crawl up her skin. She began scratching at every place she could: her arms, her neck, her face. Her skin burned as it became raw but Rhiannon didn't stop.

     She couldn't stop.

     Rhiannon could hear the characteristic chug of a train in the distance and perked up at the sound, waiting to see the cars round the corner of the train tracks. She exhaled a sigh of relief when she saw it coming her way — but it wasn't slowing down. At all. Panic began to set back in as Rhiannon wondered how she was going to board it. Time for contemplation was running low as the train neared her, and once she caught sight of a train car with an opening, she figured she only had one option: jump on.

     Rhiannon stood directly next to the train track and, once its front neared the platform, began sprinting alongside it. Her arms and legs were burning so intensely that Rhiannon worried they would disintegrate from where they connected to her body. Not able to afford looking behind her shoulder, Rhiannon continued sprinting until she saw the open train car in her peripheral vision. When she saw it nearing her, she let her gut instincts take charge and jumped towards the train. With an incredible amount of luck, Rhiannon was able to grab onto an exterior handle and pull herself into the open car.

     Rhiannon collapsed onto the floor of the vehicle, needing to catch her breath. She glanced up at her surroundings, noticing that the opening was only on one side of the car. The other side was closed with large crates lining it, marked with different district emblems. She crawled into a space between two crates in an attempt to keep herself hidden from prying eyes. Once she leaned her back against the wall of the car, Rhiannon's body couldn't stay awake much longer from all of the stress it was put under today. Within a few seconds, Rhiannon's eyelids fell on their own accord as she succumbed to sleep.

     THE TRAIN SCREECHED TO A HALT, the obnoxious sound and physical jolt of the vehicle waking up Rhiannon. For a few seconds, she forgot where she was. When she glanced around and recognized the large crates, however, everything came flooding back.

     Maysilee dying. Dad's whipping. Haymitch winning. Dad dying. Wai Po dying. Haymitch's family dying.

     Cautiously, Rhiannon crawled to the opening of the train car that she jumped into to survey her surroundings. Was this the train's final stop? Or was this some scheduled stop for the train's maintenance? It was one of the older vehicles, similar to those in pictures in history books, not the high-tech Capitol trains that could travel across all of Panem in less than a day.

     Citizens weren't permitted to know a lot about other districts. Despite knowing of their existence and that each district contributes to powering the Capitol, citizens are raised on knowing that the Capitol is supreme and what their role is in supplying it. Therefore, Rhiannon never once wondered which district other than 12 she'd want to live in if given the opportunity. Maybe District 5, so that she didn't have to deal with the daily power outages that 12 did. Or District 8, since at least there, Rhiannon could put her few tailoring skills to use.

     As she neared the edge of the train car, Rhiannon could see a sign in the distance. She moved to the very edge and squinted her eyes to get a better view of the large, bold letters.

NOW ENTERING DISTRICT 2

     Rhiannon's breath hitched in the back of her throat. She immediately cowered back inside the train car, unsure of her next steps. District 2 was perhaps the worst place that Rhiannon could have ended up. Well — maybe the Capitol was the worst place, but District 2 was an extremely close second.

Always the rational girl, Rhiannon truthfully could not see a happy ending for her uncommon scenario. Given the circumstances, she had to presume that her absence from the district had been noted and that her face was now circulating amongst the Peacekeepers of Panem, most likely followed by orders to shoot on sight. While the District 12 Peacekeepers were rather strict, Rhiannon figured that 2's were even worse due to their close relationship with the Capitol.

Rhiannon could hear the voices and clambering footsteps of workers in the distance, beginning to estimate the amount of time she had to escape before they reached her train car. She just barely peeked her head outside of the car to scope her surroundings, moving her head from left to right, taking note of the massive mountain about to swallow the front of the train.

Rhiannon moved her gaze up, and up, and up, and her eyes kept grazing the mountain until she reached the sky. She attempted to peer inside to see what was hidden by the landform, but to no avail. From her position, all she could see was pitch black.

She didn't even have time to hypothesize what was inside because her body was lurched back into the crates behind her as the train began moving again. Rhiannon assumed her previous position behind the crates, and anxiously watched the daylight turn to darkness as the train entered the mountain.

As if the darkness was somehow synonymous with silence, Rhiannon held her breath as she awaited to be met with light again. She should have been using the time to figure out a new escape plan, but now she didn't have the luxury of being outdoors.

Now, she was trapped.

Dim sconces began to pass by, the speed of the train turning the flames into mere flashes of light. When the train rolled to a stop once again, Rhiannon didn't even want to move towards the opening in fear of coming face-to-face with the audience whose voices were echoing inside the mountain-turned-facility.

As voices grew louder as people came closer, Rhiannon accepted that she was currently living her final moments. Greasy Sae's efforts had been in vain and Wai Po's and the Abernathys' deaths would not be avenged. In an odd sense, Rhiannon was almost grateful. At least she would be reunited with her mother. And Wai Po and Haymitch's family, and possibly even —

Rhiannon silently gagged.

— Orville, if they had gotten to him too, which Rhiannon thought to be the unfortunate truth.

Going against every instinct to jump out of the train car and take off sprinting in the direction that the train had come, Rhiannon simply sat there, knees hugged towards her chest like a child, and waited for her inevitable capture. She tried to push out pessimistic thoughts of Wai Po and Orville's disappointment for not fighting — of her own mother's disappointment, which hurt the worst.

Soon enough, the workers' voices grew even louder as they began unloading Rhiannon's train car. When the crate Rhiannon had been leaning against was taken and her body naturally fell onto the floor of the car, subtly shaking the vehicle, the workers all froze in shock of the unexpected guest.

"A girl!" A man yelled out to his peers. He looked over his shoulder at the nearby Peacekeepers, "Hey — there's a girl in here! A rebel!" Within seconds, Rhiannon's arms were seized by rough, glove-clad hands who dragged her out of the car and shoved her roughly onto the ground.

Multiple guns were pointed directly at her face. Rhiannon felt her heart drop with the greatest amount of fear she's ever experienced, and then she closed her eyes. She could feel her fingers return to their routine dance as she began reciting in her head, Om Mani Padme Hum...

A Peacekeeper's voice infiltrated her thoughts, "— I said who are you, girl?" They unceremoniously kicked Rhiannon in the side, emitting a pained groan from her lips.

"From an outsider district, for certain," another added on as they analyzed Rhiannon's attire. "Hmm," they hummed, "looks like..." Rhiannon's eyes were still closed when she felt calloused fingers briefly stroke her cheek, "...coal dust."

The first voice let out a loud, mocking laugh, "Well, would you look at that...we've got a visitor all the way from District 12!" Surrounding voices grew louder at the news, and the guns hovering above Rhiannon's face had fallen even closer with the Peacekeepers' laughter. They began plotting their forms of punishment, preferring to go down the torture route since Rhiannon had obviously been caught in the act of committing the most heinous of crimes: treason.

"Silence!" A loud, commanding voice demanded, the unmistakably male voice almost shaking the insides of the indestructible mountain. Everyone inside obeyed, the room becoming so quiet that Rhiannon could only hear her own anxious, labored breathing in her ears. Slow, menacing footsteps came her way, the man's boots kicking small pebbles as he made his way over.

Rhiannon, still trying to find the smallest bit of comfort within the darkness behind her eyelids, could feel a presence come down to her level. The same voice, quieter but no less threatening, ordered, "Open your eyes." The voice was so persuasive that Rhiannon couldn't bring herself to object.

An older man — a few years older than Orville, perhaps — was crouched down in front of Rhiannon's figure, donning the same Peacekeeper uniform as his peers; however, it was clear from the unspoken respect that this older man was the Head Peacekeeper. He stared at her with an emotionless expression, his ice-blue eyes too captivating to look away from. Rhiannon didn't look away — she physically couldn't.

The man took a sharp inhale before retracting his head and roughly swallowing. He stood and motioned for Rhiannon to do the same, "C'mon, girl. Up." Confused at his sudden...civility, Rhiannon was frozen. She managed to prop herself on her elbows, wanting nothing more than to begin crawling away from the man's looming figure.

Obviously one with a short temper, the man loudly sighed before reverting to his previous demeanor, "Rise!" Rhiannon quickly scrambled to her feet, and not even a second after the man had grabbed onto her arm and began leading her down a different tunnel, possibly leading deeper into the mountain.

No words were exchanged as this man undoubtedly led Rhiannon to District 2's holding jail cell, where she would await her fate. The man came to an abrupt stop in front of a door, placed his hand on the electronic scanner beside it, and roughly pulled Rhiannon inside the room once the door slid open. She made a futile attempt to dig her heels into the ground as she noticed all of the monitors displaying surveillance footage around the building — or rather, the mountain. Naturally, Rhiannon failed and was pulled alongside the Peacekeeper whose anger caused heat to radiate from his body, even from beneath his heavy armor.

"This you, girl?" He jutted his finger out towards one of the few non-surveillance screens. Rhiannon felt a knot form in her stomach at the sight of her rotating headshot, complete with "WANTED" in blinking red font. Her lips sealed shut with fear of what would happen upon her confirmation. Death, definitely, but by what means?

The man grunted in annoyance, purposefully forcing Rhiannon into making direct eye contact. His icy-blue eyes basically forced admittance.

"Is your name Rhiannon Si?"

Rhiannon blinked rapidly before stuttering out, "Y—yes."

"Is your father Orville Si?"

Rhiannon's eyebrows furrowed in confusion as to how this man could know that, "Y—yes?" In retrospect, she realized he probably had all of the available information on her from the Capitol archives. Suddenly, the Peacekeeper's grip loosened as he glanced down towards the floor and pinched the bridge of his nose, exhaling a sigh.

The man released his grip from Rhiannon's arms and typed in a sequence of keys on one of the computer's keyboards to override the "WANTED" animation of Rhiannon's face. The screen with her headshot faded into the default Capitol background that was shown on the televisions between mandatory broadcasts.

He abruptly stood upright, "C'mon. We're leaving." Once again, he held onto Rhiannon's upper arm as they exited the office and maneuvered through the series of tunnels before eventually finding their way out of the mountain facility. His grip wasn't nearly as strong as before, now just a light brace since they both knew she wouldn't attempt an escape. Rhiannon was too in shock to think otherwise, especially with the addition of this foreign man's uncharacteristic kindness.

Her mind didn't produce any productive thoughts during their walk through the busy district, full of men and women walking to and from work, children nowhere to be seen as they were presumably in school. Rhiannon didn't know what time it was, but by the sun's position in the sky, she presumed it was midday. She purposefully avoided eye contact with any of the passersby, but they didn't seem to even breathe in her direction. Everyone had somewhere to go and things to do. Rhiannon noted the much more autonomous nature of District 12; here, it seems as if every person was programmed and no one broke protocol.

Soon enough, the man led Rhiannon up a short driveway to a house — perhaps the most un-homey house of all. The harsh, concrete structure blended well into its surrounding buildings, but Rhiannon had never seen anything like it. Although, to be fair, District 2 in itself felt like another planet compared to her native district.

The man pressed his palm against the wall, beginning the unlocking process of what Rhiannon assumed to be his house. A low rumble emitted from the walls as an outline of a door jutted out slightly from its previous flush position. Rhiannon was ushered into the house by her escort, cooly welcomed into a home whose interior perfectly matched its exterior. All shades of the greyscale were on display with the home's unique, and minimal, array of furniture. After the man locked his front door, he walked through an industrial archway Rhiannon followed, feeling almost compelled to do so.

They entered the kitchen and dining area, complete with intricately simple furniture and appliances. The kitchen ran along one singular wall, complete with a high-tech refrigerator that was unlike anything Rhiannon had seen in her life. She admired at the kitchen counters as she walked past, noticing the subtle slopped portion underneath the faucet, and the six burners etched into the countertop itself.

"Take a seat." Rhiannon looked away from the interior design of the place towards the man and then to his dining table. She hesitantly sat down in the wooden chair carved with ornamental designs, something akin to what she saw only in District 12's Justice Building. Her eyes remained trained on the man's back as he strode around his kitchen, placing a kettle on the nearly-invisible stovetop and grabbing two seemingly-handmade ceramic mugs from a cabinet. He plucked some leaves from the small plants sitting in his windowsill, adding them to the kettle as well.

Rhiannon eyed up the plants, immediately identifying lemon balm. She watched the man closely, although had some difficulty seeing what, and if, he was adding anything else to the kettle. Part of her highly doubted that this man would do all of this work to bring Rhiannon to his house if he was merely going to kill her, or ship her off to the Capitol. However, another part wondered if this was just that: a set-up.

She glanced around, looking for any type of surveillance inside the room. Rhiannon couldn't identify anything out of the ordinary, but to her defense, this man could very well have cameras and microphones hidden within the walls. Rhiannon's palms began to sweat at the thought of Peacekeeper trucks making their way to the house now, armed and prepared to take Rhiannon to her execution.

Or worse, the Capitol.

After setting the kettle on a cool burner, the man sat down across from Rhiannon and placed one of the two mugs in front of her, "Here." Rhiannon didn't move, nervously peering into the mug to try and pinpoint a potential poison in its makeup. Coming up empty, she slouched back in her chair, instinctively eyeing up the untouched bowl of fruit at the same time her stomach stabbed with hunger.

"Go on, then," the man ushered, taking a sip from his own mug. He motioned towards the bowl, "You must be starved."

Rhiannon's eyes quickly moved to meet the man's own, uninterested in playing games, "Why did you bring me here?" At his own hesitation to answer, she pressed with her sudden bout of courage, "Why not just take me out to the square right away? Better yet, why not just send me to the Capitol yourself — ?"

"Enough." The commanding tone came naturally to the man, who still remained nameless, due to his profession. It immediately shut Rhiannon up and even made her subconsciously straighten her posture. The man's eyes slowly met Rhiannon's before leaned forward across the table, simultaneously narrowing his gaze.

"Y'know why I'm helping you, girl?" He pointed his calloused finger at her, "Because your father —" he redirected his finger at himself "— helped me. Now, I'm repaying a debt."

Rhiannon's brows stitched together in confusion, "You know my father?"

         "Yes..." the man began, leaning back in his chair, "...he was among the best of men that I trained."

     The dots weren't connecting for Rhiannon, "'Trained'? How...?" She shook her head, insisting, "How do you know him? We live in 12 —"

     "Your father didn't always live there," he explained. "He never told you how he ended up in 12?" He accepted Rhiannon's confused silence as a "yes." He sighed, "I don't blame him. It's not exactly a light-hearted story to share."

     "I don't even know if my father is alive, let alone how he 'ended up' in 12," Rhiannon said matter-of-factly. "Speaking of, how are you going to get me back?"

     The man chuckled, although no humor was present in his voice.

     "Listen, girl..." he sighed, placing his forearms back on the table and leaning forward, "...you're never going back to 12." He pressed the tip of his index finger onto the table, "From here on out, you're going to become a poster child of District 2, through and through."

     Tears stung at Rhiannon's eyes as she felt bile rise in her throat. I'm never going back to 12? she asked herself. What about when Haymitch — ?

     Rhiannon's thoughts were cut short by the man once again, who continued, "And the only way you're going to survive here is if you win."

     Her eyebrows pinched inwards, "Win what?" Complete seriousness brushed over this man's face, as if to convey that his word was Gospel. That, no matter what was about to spew out of his mouth, it would be the unequivocal truth.

     "The Games."

🤯(😏)🤯

WOOT WOOT i'm so excited. i was going to split this into 2 chapters for some added suspense but i couldn't help myself 🤭

anyway...i was originally going to put this bad boy on hold until sunrise on the reaping comes out in a couple months (!!), but life is too short and inspiration/motivation to write is too fleeting to not take advantage of it!! so here we are. i already have the book on preorder and will read it asap because i can't help myself (i also read tbosas in 1 sitting 😈), so if there are things in this fic that i want to change after reading, we'll cross that bridge when we get to it!

(if you saw me unpublish and promptly republish this fic again...no you didn't. it was just a poorly timed impulsive decision on my part, what's new?!)

thank you for reading 😚