Promises of a Sacrificial Lamb |Destiel x The Hunger Games|

-14-

Warm sunlight streaming in through the tall window is what rouses me from my unrestful sleep.  One glance at the azure sky outside tells me it's well past dawn.  I'm surprised no one woke me up earlier.  It is the big interview day, after all.  Maybe they wanted me to sleep off the fury from my outburst yesterday.

Oh, yeah.  That happened.  I'd almost forgotten for a few blissful moments.

I'm still a bit embarrassed about lashing out at Bobby and in front of Cas.  I'm not saying my anger wasn't valid—it certainly was—but Bobby was right.  I could've handled it better.  I have a bad habit of bottling up my emotions until I reach a breaking point, and the result is usually an outburst of rage.  Either that, or a complete nervous breakdown.  I guess I should be grateful that didn't happen, at least.

There are still traces of indignation coursing through my veins, but I try to let them go.  I'll really be in trouble if I miss breakfast, too.  I push myself up to a seat and almost cry out in pain.  Every muscle, every joint in my body screams in protest as I move.  That's what I get for passing out on the floor, I suppose.

I take a minute to tidy up the room I almost destroyed last night, and then, with an apprehensive breath, I open the door and venture to the dining table, where I see everyone is already gathered and eating.

Here goes nothing.

No one speaks as I approach the table.  I don't glance up from the floor, but I know they're all looking at me.  I can practically taste the tension in the air.  The chair squeaks much louder than I would've preferred as I pull it back to take a seat, wanting nothing more than to shrink down into my shoulders.

I can see Cas' eyes watching me, glinting with concern and care.  Even Rowena has a sympathetic expression adorning her face.  Bobby has returned his attention to his plate of food, almost acting like I never arrived to the table at all.

This was a mistake.  I've messed everything up with my uncontrolled outburst yesterday.  Is it too late to retreat back to my room?

I really should apologize.  Even though my anger was true and justifiable, there was no need for me to cause such a scene, act like such a brat, and now I've made people worried about me.  If I don't say something, this awful silence will destroy me from the inside out.  It's unbearable.

I'm just drawing a breath to speak when Bobby cuts me off.  "You don't have to apologize,"  he says, looking up from his plate to meet my wide eyes.  He doesn't seem annoyed or upset with me, but rather, understanding.  I'm not sure why, but that simple sentence is enough to lift a massive weight from my shoulders.  It's like I can breathe properly again.

"I know how stressful this is for you both,"  our mentor continues.  "I went through these exact situations when I was your age, too.  Lots of emotions is common.  The best thing you can do is just try to approach everything with a level head.  It'll help."

I'm not quite sure what to say.  This is the nicest I've ever seen Bobby.  Is this even Bobby?  Who knows.  I'm just relieved he doesn't hate me, and as I murmur a sincere thanks, the insufferable tension that hung in the air when I arrived slowly begins to dissipate.

A level head.  Easier said than done, but I'll have to give it my all.  I'm determined to make it through this day without another horrible outburst.  I know I can do it.

After breakfast, Cas and I are set to be handed over to our prep teams and stylists to prepare for the interview later this evening.  Before we're separated, though, I grab his arm and pull him aside, hopefully out of earshot of everyone in the apartment.  I may not have been able to apologize to Bobby, but I at least want to make sure Cas knows I was never mad at him.  The thought of it has been gnawing on my insides all morning.