Thoughts of comfort [8th games. D7 Train]

I don't know what to think anymore. Mainly because this all feels so fake; just over an hour ago, we entered the town square. We were holding hands. The last thing she said to me before we parted into our sections was ”see ya on the flipside." We didn't know what the flipside meant, but now as we sit on this train and the wheels start churning, I'm not sure I want to see the flipside. By now, the town had probably dispersed. They likely have all split off into their homes to discuss what happened. The Mahdavi twins got reaped. And our parents will be the last to know.

That is horrifying for a parent to hear. Their last moments with their offspring and they didn't even know it. I feel for my uncle. I remember seeing the anguish on his face as my name got called, revealing to the world (except for mom and dad) that we were the unlucky two to get reaped. I'm glad I'm not the one telling mom. She likely has a ceramic plate or two that could afford to get shattered.

But she's not going to shatter plates over me, no, she's never given a damn about me.

Lu's been ignoring me. More interested in the win that she's somehow gotten a hold of, and I'm not gonna be the first one to speak either. The soft hum of the train fulfills the air. I wonder what the train is like with tributes who have a victor with them. Do they get advice? That sounds like it'd be pretty helpful. More helpful than... whatever wine brand Luja's got in her hand. It's got a red flavor to it. Like the color of blood, which digs into my veins, knowing we'll have to see each other bleed. And now in the way of card games. Bleed. The shit that comes from our bodies once the Capitol has been done with splitting our skin for the world to see. One of us, if not both, is going to die. And to Luja, it must be a big fucking joke, too.

She speaks up. Sadly, alcohol doesn't inspire her to shut up. ”Hey Kaiden, do you think mom would have thrown a plate at Uncle Zaid when broke the news?” Ironically, we both thought the same thing. One of those twin telepathy moments when Mom would throw a plate at him. She'd probably curse at him, telling Zaid he should have gotten there sooner. Our mother's likely to claim she would have made it to the station platform before the train left. But not even a horse could gallop that fast. We are deep in the residential roots of Seven.

"Probably," I note in a low rumble, trying not to let the growl of annoyance residing internally take over. Our mom is probably more sad that Lu is gone than me. The one who made no effort to help the family, and she probably expects Lu to get home more than me. I will always be the lazy one. But I'm the one that kept Dad alive all this time. The expectation of her to keep our father alive and make an income is impossible. I'd place a bet that she picks the income over her husband.

My sister continues her thoughts with a puzzled look, inquiring about our father. Like she'd even care about him. ”How do you think dad reacted?” If it's like any other week, Dad's not awake by now. Maybe the plates would wake him up, but otherwise, Dad's sleeping. I know his schedule after a year of bed rest. There's even a clipboard with his expected procedures once he's awake. I use it to track his movements, any changes, and other stuff that the doctor said would be nice to be aware of with his health. Today's a Friday, so he'll probably want to get up and move around the house. He'd get started with a bath. We use eucalyptus because it reminds him of his wife. Mom is normally out of the house with Lu by then, so the smell makes him feel connected to her while she's making money.

After getting done with the bath, he likes to watch TV. But the furniture in the living room doesn't support his back well enough, so now we keep a rolling cart next to the TV. It's like we're back in elementary school again. When teachers would bring in that rolling TV cart, you'd know it was an easy day in class.

I miss when things were easier like that.

Anyway, he gets back in bed. He watches some old cartoon that involves a cat and mouse. Our grandparents raised him on it. While he watches that I make him something to eat. Normally something special compared to the churned oats we've got to feed him. It's one of the few things his body can contain. That way, he's getting something new. He gets something to look forward to, which isn't very common for Saif. I like to give him some chicken noodle soup typically. Sure, it's still a bit watered down, but the change from oats to pasta should be nice.

He'd finish his shows, eat, I'd have to clean him up a bit because he's not the cleanest eater, and then he'd rest some. If he doesn't go to sleep immediately, he tells me about our grandparents, and his favorite sports he used to play with Zaid. Him and Zaid were apparently some unstoppable volleyball duo. It makes sense at their height and at least Zaid's build. Dad's a lot more skin and bones, so I don't expect him to best represent their slowly decaying physique. Soon enough, Dad gets tired of his stories, and I do too, so he drifts off to nap until Mom gets home. I would normally spend this time checking the sheets, pillows and other such in his room. If all looked well I then got myself ready for the day. Not that I went anywhere. But the act of getting ready did enough for me.

Today wasn't most Fridays, though, so I hope his health doesn't worsen by the sudden energy change. Luja wouldn't understand. She never did. "Uh, I'd expect him to be asleep. He might take a second to understand what happened. But he'll be sad once he does." Dad's always told me he feels like he's trapped me, but no, it's not his fault. His wife could have split the caretaking between us, but no, it's just me.

Maybe it would be best for Luja to win of us two. With mom's health, she isn't dying any time soon. It makes sense that she spends the rest of her life with the only kid that ever mattered.