" 𝔰𝔲𝔯𝔳𝔦𝔳𝔦𝔫𝔤 𝔠𝔬𝔪𝔢𝔰 𝔞𝔱 𝔞 𝔭𝔯𝔦𝔠𝔢 "
✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*
With a mind burdened by her own actions,
Rowan Everdeen must return to her home
district, and face her loved ones. But around
her, a...
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" how dare you "
rowan's view
𝕱rom the moment I stepped out into the sun, and felt the smoky air of home press against my skin, I felt like a stranger. I could so clearly picture my last moments here, when returning was a question and not a certainty. The feeling of being ripped from home was still raw, yet coming back didn't soothe that ache.
Breathing in our polluted air wasn't as easy anymore. Even the moist breeze in the arena was more clear, and my lungs had been spoiled. Still, I breathed deep and full, letting my gaze finally travel to the thralls of people crowding around the train, cheering.
The cheers in District 12 were different. Before, in the Capitol, people had shouted my name enthusiastically for the acts I committed. They loved me for the blood I spilled, but here, that wasn't the case. For years, I had watched as the games destroyed families, and gave these people nothing but despair. My victory was hope. Hope for change, for the strength that we had been denied for so long.
Perhaps it was the liquor that flowed in my veins that numbed me enough to plaster a smile over my features. I even waved once or twice as my gaze skipped over the masses of dirt-covered clothes and illogical smiles.
I tilted my head towards my mentor as he joined me, grasping onto the rail of the train in an attempt to keep himself upright. Surprisingly, I seemed to sober up quicker than Haymitch.
"Fucking hell," he swore as he looked out at the crowd. Though Haymitch may have had a fond spot in his heart for our district, its people were a different matter. I could count the number of people Haymitch tolerated on one hand, with at least two fingers to spare.
"If this is hell, what would you call the Capitol?"
Haymitch swiveled his head to look at me. "Hell's graveyard."
I couldn't deny the truth in it. Hell had been following me closely, watching for any cracks or fissures. Perhaps hell had a face. If so, I knew exactly what he looked like.
But this was a different hell. Nothing could stop the ache in my chest whenever I thought of the past few days, of how my world could not stop changing with each passing hour. For an unknown reason, I had expected a sense of stability between Cato and I, after surviving what we had. It was a fool's hope.
When I turned back to the crowd, my eyes immediately caught on a girl hoisted atop a man's shoulders, waving frantically. It took me another moment to recognize the cornflower yellow hair belonging to my youngest sister, whose build had matured vastly in what was really only just over a month.
She was resting on Gale's shoulders, the brunet standing tall and steady in the crowd. He seemed more familiar than Prim, but perhaps that was because I had spent more time with him throughout the years. The sight of my hunting partner made a smile stretch over my face, a true one.
