Anthem of the Defeated // Katelyn+Kass
Aug 21, 2019 2:30:33 GMT -5
Post by charade on Aug 21, 2019 2:30:33 GMT -5
The infirmary is an unpleasant place.
It is cold, sterile and reminds her of the interrogation center. It smells the same. Like chemicals and misery. The walls are too white and they are everywhere. She shivers. People in lab coats flit about and she half-expects to see a pair of dark eyes and a too wide smile around every corner. She tries not to think about the chair, or the fragments of sunless days that she can recall. There were so many things pumped into her system that it’s a miracle that she remembers any of it at all.
It’s a curse too.
When she enters the room, she sets the wrapped plate of peanut brittle and fudge on the small table to the side of the bed. She does not expect the girl to eat any of it, but she knows that it’ll taste better than any of the hospital food they have to give. The first thing she ate when she got out of the hospital was a slice of cherry pie. It was overly manufactured, too sweet in the crust and bitter in the filling, but for the briefest of moments, it tasted like home.
She told Nico Thorne that it gets easier. It does. But from the few charged conversations they’d had on the train and in the center, she knows Kassandra won’t want to hear such things. Kassandra is headstrong, full of anger and idealism. There are people back home that she doesn’t want to disappoint. People in the Capitol she does not care for. People she left in the arena, yet carries with her still.
It is very familiar.
Katelyn wonders if this is what Arbor saw in her thirteen years ago. If it is, and she knows it is, she understands why he was so concerned when tributes continued to come home. She sits and knits her fingers together, elbows resting on the arms of her chair.
“I know you hate me,” she begins, holding the young girl’s gaze. “But if your spite for me played a small part in keeping you going, then I’ll count it as a win.” It is a rare thing these days, to feel like something, anything is a victory when the shadow of the next tragedy is just waiting to rear its ugly head.
Kass’s fight with Cyril comes to mind. The martyrs, pacifists and those unwilling to play the game all lost their morals in the end, as they always did. Ideals are for those who can afford them. There was a time when Katelyn bought them as if they were going out of stock.
These days, there is hell to pay, and Katelyn is drowning in debt.
“Welcome to the other side.” The side of her mouth lifts wanly. Tiredly.
Maybe things will be better this time. This time next year, she won’t be apologizing to Kiri and Harb as they bury another sibling; another cousin. She won’t be burying any of the children from the orphanage that have the misfortune of being friends with Kass. There will be no inquests, no visits from peacekeepers in the dead of night.
Katelyn doesn’t lie to anyone.
Except maybe, herself.[ DARS ]
