Chapter Eight, Last Breath

❝ the first night that you saw me, ❞

❝ nothing was gonna stop me.❞

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MY HEELS CLINK AGAINST the floor, applause and continuous cheering following my very exit off the stage. I take a deep breath in, relieved the crowd's fixating eyes and open ears are no longer focused on me and what might come out of my mouth. It's Peeta's turn now.

I watch him confidently enter the stage, barely a few minutes after I left it. Like every single tribute, he is warmly greeted by Caesar, who's offering his open arms. His whole person consists of a cheeriness that can't possibly be surpassed and questions seconds away from revealing your deepest secrets.

Betrayal continues to linger in my heart as I recall the fact that Peeta chose to be separated from me, and didn't even mouth a word of good luck, of encouragement, before my own interview. 

Nevertheless, I still pay attention to his conversation with the host of the night, Caesar Flickerman and his dazzling smile.

"Peeta, how are you finding the Capitol? And don't say with a map!" he commences, fixing his midnight blue suit.

"It's different. Very different from back home." answers the blond, his hair neatly combed and reflecting the lights in the room. All I wanted to do was put my hand in the mists of it and ruffle it, to revert it back to its messy, usual look. 

Now, to say that the Capitol was very different from back home was an evident understatement. Comparing the Capitol head quarters and our homes in District 12 would be like comparing a roaring lion to a dying pigeon.

"Different? In what way? Gives us an example." Caesar ponders, watching Peeta attentively.

"Uh, okay, well the showers here are weird." Peeta starts, the ghost of a smile resting on his face.

Fits of laughter consequently emerge in the audience, and I silently wish I could have that easy-going, chilled personality my district partner seems to have.

"The showers... we have different showers." Caesar questions, and a flicker of a smile appears on my lips because, Capitolian or not, the host did have a way to dance around words and add a drop of humour into them.

"I have a question for you Caesar, do I smell like roses to you?" Peeta inquires, directing the man sitting next to him to come closer. 

I lightly chuckle as Caesar does sniff his shoulder, and continues the joke by offering Peeta to smell him as well. This play goes on about for a rough thirty seconds before the boy is interrogated with another question, smoothly changing the subject of this conversation.

"So, Peeta, tell me, is there a special girl back home?"

This popular question has met a few number of tributes, just like Cato, or Glimmer.

"No, not really." the male answers, a mysterious glint in his eyes, as if he would be preparing something, anything. My eyebrows raise, curiosity spiking inside of me.

"No? I don't believe it for a second! I mean, look at that face! Handsome boy like you! Peeta, you can tell me." Caesar voices, lifting his hands in the air.

"Well, uh, there is this one girl I've had a crush on since forever. I mean, she's - she's beautiful, and most guys at our school like her. But I don't think she actually recognised me until the Reaping." Peeta shyly admits. 

My eyes widen in surprise at this new information, previously unknown to me. Why I had never heard of this? Even at school, gossip spread around fairly quickly. I try to picture him with various different girls, like Cleo Nagle from the Seam, but none of them seem to match.

"Well, I'll tell you what Peeta, you go out there and win this thing, and when you get home, she'll have to go out with you. Am I right folks?" the host smiles, looking into the audience.

"Thanks, but uh, I don't think winning's going to help me at all." Peeta sighs, staring down at his palms.

"And why is that?" Caesar inquires. 

I'm catching onto every word, wanting to know what Peeta could possibly say that would make sense to his latest statement.

"Because she came here with me", the words drop off my partner's tongue slowly and I can't help for a gaps to escape my lips.

My mouth flies open as I'm soon unable to manage a single word, or form a distinct and clear though. I simply stay frozen on the spot, replaying Peeta's revelation. 

Was this all an act, to gain pity, and sponsors? I feel weakened by this love declaration, as if my flames had been stomped out by a lovesick male. 

Now, I'm nothing more than a damsel in distress, doomed to fail, uselessly waiting for her prince.

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My head snaps as I hear the door handle twist. I lunge at the boy, and my hand meets his pale cheek. In one swift movement, I've manage to make a cloud of pink quickly spread onto his face as I pin him to the wall.

"What the fuck was that? You ignore me, don't talk to me, but now suddenly you tell the world you love me? What game are you playing at, because I'm not fucking part of it!" I yell, anger bubbling in my chest. Truly, I was terrified that Peeta had somewhat ruined my angle. The games were getting to me, whether I liked to admit it.

Haymitch rapidly pulls me away, digging his nails into my skin. All I wanted to do at that moment was tear myself apart from my mentor and fight the boy in front of me until he took back what he said, despite it being impossible. 

Moreover, I knew that I would regret it later, but I had a bad habit of letting anger and aggression take control of my body, and my mind in certain situations.

"Stop it Jade! He did you a favour!" Haymitch intervenes, still holding me back, as if I was a wild animal, at risk of lashing out. What I would never admit is that I wanted so badly to simply curl myself into a ball, and cry every tear I'd been holding ever since Effie Trinket called out my sister's name from the Reaping ball.

"He made me look weak!" I choke out, desperately holding onto the brave, careless barrier I had built to protect me, but I could slowly feel it slipping out of my fingers, no matter how tight I held onto it.

"He made you look desirable, which, in your case, can't hurt sweetheart." Haymitch consoles, holding onto my shoulders, making out the meaning of my burst. I choose not to meet his pitiful stare, keeping my lips into a tight line.

"He's right Jade." I hear Cinna whisper next to me.

"Of course I'm right, I can sell the star-crossed lovers from District 12-" Haymitch starts before another wave of fury starts.

"We are not star-crossed lovers! And I am not another pawn in another twisted game orchestrated by an old man!" I yell, sick of this conversation and my life being toyed around by someone that wasn't me.

"It's a television show! And it might get you sponsors, which just might save your damn life!" Haymitch articulates loudly.

"I don't need it! I can save my own damn life!" I finally state before storming out, my heart threatening to explode out of my chest. They didn't get it. None of them. Not even Haymitch, or Cinna. 

I'm a person, and I can make my own decisions, as much as I could make it through the games, because I wasn't weak, and definitely a star-crossed lover. At least not in this lifetime.

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The Hunger Games are getting to me. They're eating me alive before I have even set foot into the doomed arena. Kind of ironic to think about. 

I feel violated, betrayed by my whole team what hadn't even asked if it was okay to turn me into a new person, weakened and seductive. I would give anything in the world to be in Gale's arms, in my home, with Prim, and even Buttercup and his devilish face.

Instead, I'm met with the same voice that has been trying so hard to get a reaction out of me.

"So, is this roof going to become our late night meeting place. Or would you prefer an actual date next time?" the same, arrogant boy I somehow manage to hear from time to time appears. Honestly, I had been hoping for him to appear, hoping for him to distract my constant worries. He grunts as he slouches down next to me, the wind blowing both our hairs.

"In your dreams, Cato. Besides, afraid this might be the last time we even talk to each other." I respond, not even noticing the smile and rosy blush spreading on my cheeks, thankfully hidden by the night and its dark, obscure demeanour.

"Please, I'll easily find you in the games if I have to. You'll probably try to slit my throat before we exchange a few polite words though" the boy jokes, confidence, as per usual, accompanying his tone.

"Amen to that." I agree. 

A calmness has been installed between the two of us, unlike those other times, where there was often forced proximity and heartbeats increasing their tempo. Cato is my enemy, but at that moment, he feels normal, familiar even.

"Where's lover boy then, 12?" he mockingly asks, breaking my short-lived peace of mind.

"Say that again, I'll push you off the roof 2, I swear." I snap back.

However, as soon as these words leave my mouth, strong hands grip onto my shoulders from behind me, threatening to throw me off the roof. Cato smirks, and we both know that the magnetic field makes you unable to actually fall, and would just push you right back onto the platform. Nevertheless, the sudden action does take me by surprise, and I latch my two hands onto Cato's arms, unable to contain giggles seeping out of my lips.

"Thank god, your pitiful expression was making me want to kill myself." District 2's golden boy snickers as his warm hands are no longer in contact with my shoulders.

"What, do you care for my well-being Cato?" I sarcastically ask, knowing I would be the last thing such a boy could care about.

"No, on the contrary. Just rather be met with your annoyed glares and horrible personality that you have." he responds, matching my tone.

"Thanks, I try." I shrug, swinging my feet into the abyss below me.

"I can't believe it's tomorrow. The actual Hunger Games." Cato sighs, standing up, and suddenly I am pulled back into my perpetual and continual cycle of worry and misunderstanding.

"Yeah." I gulp, fear crawling all over me, like insects picking at my skin.

"May the odds be ever in your favour tomorrow, Everdeen." the blonde boy finally says before getting into the elevator, heading back to his dorms. 

I stay there, staring ahead for another hour, reflecting on every obstacle life has given me and how I have always been able to surpass it. I am strong, and I won't let anyone tell me otherwise.

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Just as I am about to head over to my room, fatigue weighing on my shoulders, I notice from the corner of my eye Peeta's body, as he keeps his gaze fixated onto the city in front of him.

"Peeta?" I mutter, feeling sorry and a little regretful that I had been so aggressive towards, when, after all, he was a kind, affectionate boy, and most likely didn't mean any genuine harm. He stands up as he notices me across the sitting room. 

Not waisting a second, and knowing I could lose this boy at any given moment during the Hunger Games, I approach him and hold him, circling my arms around his waist. Thankfully, his arms find their way around my neck as he holds me tight as well.

"I'm sorry." I choke out, tears staining his shirt. Relief floods over me as I have finally freed myself from the river of sadness I had captured in my bones.

"Sh, it's okay Jade, it's going to be okay." he says, stroking my hair.

"I'm sorry I went after you, I didn't mean it." I continue, wishing to make amends with the boy that had been my friend, and that had helped me.

"You know, I meant it as a compliment..." Peeta says, a soft chuckle escaping his lips. Now I'm smiling too, still holding on tightly to his waist.

"I know."

"I just don't want them to change me." he finally admits, sighing.

"Then don't let them."