unbreak my heart | {mackenzie / jacinta}

Guilt was unbecoming of her.

Even when she felt it, that awful pang in the pit of her stomach, she seldom allowed it to be shown.

"Well, Diana seems to be doing a fairly decent job. I'm just trying to make sure it stays that way."

Perhaps an apology would have been appropriate at that moment, but Jacinta refused to show any vulnerability. To express remorse was to reveal weakness and Mackenzie was the last person she would allow to see such a thing. She would never admit, not even to herself, that Mackenzie had hurt her before—and she didn't want him to have the power to do it again.

Jacinta knew that shoving aside her mentor duties and leaving them all to Mackenzie had been cruel of her, but she did not linger on it for long. Instead, a clutter of images began to fall through her mind. She had kept them under lock and key for years now, but talking to Mackenzie like this must have snapped the bolts open.

In a matter of seconds, she relived the timeline of their history, from the moment they met after the 79th Reaping to the last time they spoke until now. Worst of all was not the intimate moments they shared, but rather the late night conversations they had in the dark of one of their rooms. Jacinta had almost forgotten how many secrets she had spilled to him, things that now she wished she had never said.

"It's a bit loud," Mackenzie remarked, the familiar sound of his voice focusing her concentration back onto the present.

She wouldn't look at him, really look at him. Instead, Jacinta was staring at the tie around his neck. It was easier than meeting his gaze; she was afraid of what she might see in his eyes.

"Wanna go somewhere and talk?" he asked.

Jacinta felt her breath catch in her lungs at the question. She had a gut feeling that it was not a good idea to try to face Mackenzie in private, where she was not under the public microscope.

There were so many words in her head, so many things she had wanted to say for so long. She wondered if it was the same for him, if that was the reason why he had asked to speak to her in private.

But she could feel the bitterness that once laid dormant in her heart beginning to well up again, as it did when she saw people from her past. She didn't hate Mackenzie but she knew that she had a grudge.

Mackenzie went silent when she did not answer and kept her eyes on his tie, waiting for him to say something more. But when the pause grew long, she realized that he was waiting on her.

Jacinta finally looked up and met his eyes, her expression indifferent. But she immediately regretted it as her face grew hot with chagrin and her composure began to melt. Her body moved before she could make a concrete decision. She nodded yes even though she knew she shouldn't, even though she knew that this private conversation could possibly end in disaster.

"I... suppose that would be fine," she replied cautiously, bringing her eyes down to her champagne glass and taking a much larger sip this time. "Lead the way."

Jacinta wished that she could be heartless. Then, she wouldn't have the feel how it melted when she met Mackenzie's gaze or have to feel the wave of crushing regret that followed. She wouldn't have to feel everything that she had been suppressing for the past year.

Her feelings for Mackenzie came sharply into focus and her anger quickly fizzled out, ebbing into chagrin.

She wanted to hate him. It would have been easier if she did.

Regret burned on her tongue. Jacinta had come with her iron and fire and was ready to use it. She had been expecting a fight, only to be met with an apology. She had to remind herself that not everyone fought fire with fire, as she often did.

Jacinta had not wanted Mackenzie to be the better person — she wanted him to lash out in response, wanted him to show her that she was righteous one. But she wasn't; Mackenzie was better than her. His heart was made of gold and hers was blackened with the bitterness of solitude, grief, and anger.

No, Mackenzie, as always, was the hero. (And Salazars are not heroes.)

He should have come after her — but she shouldn't have walked away in the first place. Jacinta remembered regretting it, remembered wanting to turn back and say she was sorry. But she had been too prideful to turn the other cheek. She paid the price for it.

"I'm sorry, too," Jacinta said. She couldn't lash out at him; it would be like shooting a man who raised his hands in surrender.

Her mind took her back to two years ago, when she greeted him in the medical center after he was brought back from the arena. She had fought tooth and nail for his survival, searching for any sponsors she could find. Jacinta had failed to save her sister and so she wanted to save someone, just for once. She was a liar, a cheater, and a killer — but she was also Mackenzie's savior.

"I just —" Jacinta closed her eyes for a moment and sighed. When she opened them, she caught Mackenzie's gaze. "I just wanted you to stay. And you didn't."

And then I was alone again and I had to re-learn how to live.

When Violet died, it killed something inside of her. She was never the same after that; she knew that it was her fault her sister was sent into the Games. President Snow had told her so when she confronted him.

"There are always consequences for our actions, Miss Salazar," he had told her, taking a sip of his blood-red wine. "Always."

Jacinta had not known it then, but she traded Violet's life for her own when she speared Cynthia through the skull. She had been on her dying breath, it was all supposed to be over — and then it wasn't.

But she didn't have to feel miserable when she was with Mackenzie. She didn't have to feel like she was made of ice. They had leaned on each other; he needed her and she needed him. Until suddenly he didn't anymore — then he was gone and she let him go.

She was left to deal with her emptiness alone. Now, she was accustomed to not having to feel—or at least, being able to ignore what she felt. It was why she had carried on with Justice for so long. The two of them had an understanding and it was simple and emotionless. She never had to worry about how Justice felt or contemplate how she felt about him.

Damn you, Mackenzie, she thought to herself. You just had to go and make everything complicated.

"I felt used," she admitted. "All my life, I was taught that people were tools. I used people to get what I wanted — in and out of the Games." Even Clementa Lowe was not exempt from this; Jacinta would have killed her in the blink of an eye had it been necessary. "But I never used you. I thought we were above that."

It was okay for Justice to use her; she was using him, too. But with Mackenzie it hurt like nothing ever had before. It was a different pain than grief but it was agony all the same. She never treated him like he was less than a person — she loved him.

Jacinta did not know exactly how she felt now, but the past was clear as day.