CHAPTER sixty-six|THE STRENGTH OF GHOSTS AND MEMORIES

Waterparks~ powerless
❝You know I'd make the time, I'm just waiting for your dream light.❞

➳➳

I HAD ALWAYS wondered what my lasts would be.

When the world seemed smaller I thought it would be something very similar to my firsts. I thought my eyes would close to visions of the top of my small hut of a home, with my family standing around me with eyes overflowing with joy and sadness all at once because of the lifelong events that would flash through their memories. I thought the last things I would hear would be the hum of electricity that never flowed through the walls, and that the last thing I'd feel would be the corse blankets Lillian had learned to weave from thrown out wool.

I thought I would be wrinkled by the sun, with my blue eyes lightened into green because of all the time they hit the light and turned that way as a small child. I thought my lips would have shrunken (like my overall height that wasn't that tall to begin with) and my brown hair would be such a snow white that it would remind the children of my District of the cold winter days when the powerplant had shut down and everyone who was wealthy enough got to play in the streets.

I thought I would feel one last loving kiss on my forehead, and I would be happy to go into a warmth greater than the one I felt. I thought I would go to find the love of my life like my father had, and that they would tell me everything would be fine.

Apparently, as the president continued his speech he tried to tell me just how wrong it was. That was, until even he was cut off by another opnion that still didn't meet what I had imagined so vividly.

Alma Coin had disrupted the Capitol so heavily that it shut down the narrative Snow had created before it could even fester under the lights of his studio's room. She cut in with a small hiss of broken airwaves, and the light from a place far too dark to show how different her greying hair could look with the right wind blowing through it, but she didn't take control for long.

She didn't take away all the rumours, but with her, we died in love and victory instead of malice.

To her, Katniss Everdeen wasn't just a girl plucked from the many faces we had all seen- her face in all of it's stoney but rather delicate glory was the only choice a rebellion had to ending a war with words instead of bombs. In Coin's eyes, Peeta was lost, and Remy was given a second chance at life to protect the Districts he cared so very much about.

She didn't say a lot, but she made sure that there was the same spark in her eyes that had been floating around the arena when she said my name. Lorna Odair- already something that would rally new support- had died whole again after being severed, and with those she cared about just as much as she cared about the inspiration she made with her actions.

Maybe she really did think we were dead- it seemed as I crouched around the forming group that my body was trying to explain just how dead I had been with each moan or ache. Still, when the projection was turned off and the dust settled between the cracks in the tile floor, the mood was anything but sombre like it should of been. Instead, it was like the deaths had given us all a new life to live for those that couldn't; the President had finally thrown down his gauntlet from his stone tower and this time we were sure we could pick it up.

"Snow's in his mansion, where is that?" Katniss asked almost as soon as the whistles past. Her voice was eroded- like little stones had been chipped away so much that no one sentence would ever hold the same pitch again- but it still stood out amongst the other broken things we had sat on. Her structure was still standing, albeit because of the foundation piled up around it.

She looked at the projection of our supposed path with eyes so dark they could reflect it.

"That's us." Cressida pointed rather obviously as the rest of the team crouched down to our level. "That's the circle, it's at least 70, 75 blocks north."

"75 blocks?"

"Uh huh."

"Nobody knows we're alive. This is our chance; these buildings-" Katniss' hand ghosted around what was left of the larger Capitol like it was a plane in flight. "-Do these look over Snow's garden?"

"I-

"They do." Peeta was quick to agree, if only with a slice of regret as he glanced from me to Katniss once more when I flinched back. Even then, I felt stronger then I did before- like finally I had come back to life from weeks of sleeping in a never ending world of weight. This was a real shot, the shot that Carmella had believed in all that time ago when it wasn't possible to change. It was the shot that changed the game we had been playing so viciously; a shot that would leave the Game maker dead in his own toy grave.

"If he goes outside at all I can get a clear shot." Katniss realised.

"But we're getting ahead of ourselves here. Whether they're looking for us or not we are pinned down." It was Jackson that insisted on reality. "Hit that button, scan for pods."

"Just about every ten steps."

"Yeah that doesn't even show the new ones."

"So we can't go anywhere in the streets." Finnick realised as his voice also began to loose its power. He was watching me when I looked away from the map, a look that held an amount of worry that would seem too much for anyone else. He could handle that, he could use it so well it might as well of been the fuel that kept him alive.

Still, I found his hand on the floor to hold on to when he looked away once more, and I squeezed it with the strength our own leader had given us.

"And the rooftops are just as bad." The commander drummed.

Normally, this would of been the moment when the silence would of driven me insane, or the fear of somebody breaking the rather thin peace became too much for me to take, but this was different. This silence felt right- like finally all of the silence we had been forced into had prepared us to speak without words. We all knew what we had to do; the Hunger Games had prepared us so well most of us agreed to whatever crazy plan we could come up with in seconds and the blink of an overly tired eye.

"There might be another way."

Whatever is was, I knew I would do it. And, as I glanced at Finnick and squeezed his hand once more, I knew he would do it too.

➳➳

We had to sleep through the night before setting off, and even then half of whoever was left were floating on their clouds of drowsiness.

The group staggered ahead in lines of two or three that mainly left the Victors infront, and even then, I managed to fall into step with Finnick alone compared to the group of three in front of us. The team was slow to move; each step was calculated to the last drop of hair that fell from our messy heads, and neither of us could of helped with any of it. Finnick was too busy watching each little twitch from the boy from 12, and I was looking at something else entirely.

It pulsed at my temple like a heart beat, and yet it didn't sting like I thought it would. It wasn't a headache, just like it had tried to break out of my skull and into the real world full of dust and smoke that was far too grey to be good. I was watching the world twirl from red to grey again, and then into the most vibrant emerald green that I had ever seen, only to fade into a brown as deep as the earth's core. Then, blue would take over as quick as a tsunami of waves and white water rapids, only to return to grey once more. Then, red would splash once more, and the pattern started all over again.

It took me minutes to realise I wasn't seeing stray colours from passing walls, but the colours I had been looking into for years when I spoke to people.

For the first time, truly the first since I lost myself completely, I saw a set of eyes in front of me that wasn't there. I saw skin that looked too smooth to be set under such a harsh and unwavering sun, and I caught gashes almost cutting their entire bodies in two.

I saw somebody that wasn't really there- but not just one. All of them were staring at me like a collage of enemies and friends, like a photo album plastered on the biggest white canvas I'd ever seen.

Finnick noticed my stares almost too well.

"What's wrong?" He asked quietly as we took another two slow steps.

I didn't hear him at first. Instead whispers sounded as real as the wind blowing past my ears for the first time since-

"Lorna."

"I can see them." I muttered as I glanced behind me, where more fake faces had come up.

"Who?"

"All of them."

Staring at me straight on was Carmella- her blue eyes were see through so that I could catch a glimpse of Evelyn who wanted to stand just behind her, with her hand on the stylist's still covered shoulder. They were smiling at me; I glanced from them to my small sister and her brown eyes with a warmth of family in my chest that couldn't be blown away.

I glance to where Remy was walking with Mercy, who I had seen him talking to earlier quite heatedly, but caught the green eyes of Atlas as I did. He was smiling too- not in a malicious way that taunted me before- it was a paradox of all of his snarls that froze just when he realised he had lost. His eyes knew he was going to die, and yet he wasn't at all afraid of it like I had been.

Then, in a line that surrounded the group from possible mines, the other tributes I had killed slowly peeled themselves around with the same bravery, right behind a Johanna stuck in the Hunger Games. Her hair was back, and the humour was flowing through each muscle as she flipped off invisible stylists in her tree dress. Alec was with her too, despite how unaware I was of his sudden death or life, and then just after, silhouettes had formed behind my sister.

They were my parents figures, and had the same blurry facial features somewhere close to my own as they both pulled Lillian away from my sight.

I only caught them for one smile, but it was proud.

"Lorna- we've been through this." Finnick whispered gently as he began to worry more.

"They're not-"

"Real." I muttered.

"Yes."

One by one, each of my friends walked backwards until I couldn't see them anymore, and then, the tributes did the same until Evelyn and Carmella were left without anyone else to distract me from my own path. Carmella left first- with a glistening tear that didn't even strike a piece of makeup out of place.

Evelyn stayed one moment longer as I remembered everybody and thing that brought me here; all the words and the hatrid I felt when I saw my memories in the past.

This one wasn't a form of torture, it was a tribute.

"I know they're not really here." I finally said, after years of realising just how much I thought I had seen. Finnick seemed to keep his eyes on me for a moment longer then he should have to make sure, but I knew he understood when he saw the smile I sent Eve's way.

She backed away as Finnick held my hand once more- and then the last good thing I had was the only thing I could see.

"I know Finnick. I think they just said goodbye."

I had always been insane; so out of my mind that lunacy was just a step along the path I was supposed to take and yet, here and now, I knew I wasn't. These were my memories, and they couldn't hurt me anymore.

Instead they some how came back one last time to give me the strength I needed to finish the job.

•••••••••••
2179 words.

It's lonely girl hours and I hurt.