Scarlet.

X

"Torn Between Pain & Anger."

The loud thunder announces an impending storm. The gentle spring breeze has been replaced by a gale that threatens to destroy everything in its path. Gray clouds envelop the entire city, plunging it into profound darkness. A light drizzle begins to drench my clothes, making my skin prickle. District 2, already naturally gloomy, takes on an even more sinister air in the cemetery. The towering walls of black granite accentuate the shadows.

Cato clings with both hands to the edge of the crypt, where his sister's remains rest in peace. His soft sobs gradually grow stronger, transforming into howls that echo above the thunder. The sound of his despair spreads through the turbulent air, creating an echo that blends with the raging storm. Each cry is loaded with gut-wrenching misery, as if grief is stabbing deep into his being like a sharp knife, and I feel the enormous weight of his suffering on my own flesh.

Memories of the previous night flash before me like fleeting glimpses: Cato snatching the gun from the Peacekeeper's hands and then blowing his head off. The chaos, the screams, and the other victors hesitating to approach Cato for their own safety.

No one could have foreseen what happened next. I was completely sure that the other Peacekeepers would kill Cato at that very moment, but the bullets found their mark not in his chest but in his sister's.

Ezra and Enobaria released me, and we rushed to the porch of my house, only to be threatened at gunpoint by the Peacekeepers who had just killed Marjorie. Even the wind seemed to hold its breath, and we remained motionless within that horrifying sight, as if time itself had paused. It was only when a frantic scream pierced the stillness of the night that we snapped back to reality. Cato collapsed to his knees beside his sister, clinging to her body, screaming, and begging her to stay with him.

As the rain gently drizzles down, Cato looks up for the first time since last night. His face bears two noticeable scars: one slicing across his right eyebrow and down to his nose, and the other stretching from his right cheek to his chin. He remains speechless, his eyes mirroring a profound void of despair, leaving me to wonder how this even happened.

Dozens of eyes are staring at us cautiously as we make our way through the crowd in the district's plaza, heading back to the Victor's Village. The tension can be cut with a knife at this very moment. Inquisitive glances intertwine with whispers full of uncertainty. I notice Ares in the distance, who greets me with a slight nod, and I return the gesture as I continue walking. It's not the time to talk.

We walk through the familiar streets of the district, silent but aware of the gazes following us. I'm entirely sure that everyone knows what happened last night, which is why people look at us with a mix of curiosity and fear. Perhaps they now see us as a threat to their security.

Finally, we reach the entrance to the Victor's Village. The imposing gates open, but this time, the Peacekeeper doesn't greet us, and we respond with indifference, reflecting the distance that has now formed between them and us. We walk as a group, but at one point, Cato decides to swiftly walk away, slamming the door of his house shut. The noise resonates in the silent village.

"It's a shame it has to end like this," Ezra whispers, sorrow in his voice. "He was a good kid."

I'm probably missing something because I don't know where this will end. Perhaps we have all the Peacekeepers against us; maybe our security is somehow compromised, but with the Games just around the corner, this shouldn't last too long.

"What do you mean?" I inquire, crossing my arms.

"He'll kill himself," Brutus answers, interrupting Ezra, who appeared to be searching for a way to phrase it more gently. "I give him a day, two at best."