Cato Point of View
I was just beginning to fall asleep. The train made a white-noise sound, enough to hum you to sleep, and the book I had been reading lay on the table next to me. My head was on the pillow, my body wrapped in soft, warm sheets. Could this get better? I grinned to myself slightly. I was the victor of the Hunger Games, my district was thrilled. Besides the fact that they had changed the rules and Glimmer had also one, she wasn't that bad of a person to win with. The Gamemaker had smiled broadly with President Snow, happy to have the two best people alive.
Now we were on a train to begin our tour, first in Glimmers District, 1, and go through all of them before going home. There was a rumour going around that since two people won, they would bring us to the Capitol to live instead of the Victor's Village; probably because the place was getting so full in both of our Districts. They were building more for us, but they weren't ready yet.
As I slipped farther into sleep, I heard a hard knock on the wall. It was the wall I shared with Glimmer's bedroom. Why had she hit my wall, had something happened? I got out of the bed, still a little groggy, and went into the hall, opening her door and turning the lamps on dim so I could see through the blackness. Glimmer was in bed, clearly asleep, but it looked like she was having a nightmare. She had had a few during the Games, but not one like this. She was thrashing around, her bedcovers twisted through her legs, her face contorted in pain from her dream. She kept on calling out for someone to stop, and she was getting frantic.
I went over to her, sitting on the bed and trying to shake her awake. But she wouldn't wake up. I took her arm and moved it enough that hopefully she would stop thrashing. I was right.
Her eyes popped open, filled with tears as sweat ran down her face and neck. Her body stopped moving, but she looked at me, her face filled with...fear. Was she afraid of me? I quirked my head at her.
"Are you okay Glimmer?" I still had my hand on her arm, and she didn't answer me, just rolled over with a sob so I could only see her back.
"What's wrong?" I put my hand on her back, trying to comfort her. She was a victor. Why was she crying? As I began to rub her back gently, trying to coax her into talking, I heard a tear filled voice that didn't sound anything like the champion I knew.
"Stop touching me." It was soft, scared, nothing like Glimmer. But I removed my hand, still sitting on the edge of her. She didn't turn over, didn't speak again. I was worried. We would be at her District in two days, she couldn't appear like this. Hadn't she volunteered, wanted to be like this?
"Glimmer, stop crying, everything's fine. Are you homesick? We'll be at your home in just a couple of days, its fine." I put my hand back on her shoulder, "Just tell me what's wrong."
But she jerked away from my touch, and I stood up and walked out of the door. I was trying to help, but if she didn't want it, fine.
Glimmer Point of View
As he slammed the door, I continued to sob, only harder. He didn't understand, he would never understand. I didn't tell him, I couldn't tell him. It was partially his fault anyway. I turned form my side on to my back, tears still running down my face. What was wrong with me, why couldn't I deal with this? It was nothing, just something that had happened in the Games, like everything else. Where had the strong, beautiful, daring me that had volunteered first? My hand had shot up right before my classmates, and I had joyfully walked on stage, smirking at them. Most was smaller than me was anyway.
But now, I wished she had gotten her hand up first after what happened. I had never heard about something like this happening in the Games before. But perhaps those female victors had been like me- unwilling to tell of the untold horrors of the arena.
I sighed and tried to go back to sleep, but my heart was hammering too hard. I could see the glimpses of dawn on the horizon, so I got up anyway.
A hot shower calmed my heart, and I ordered breakfast in my room. People had already made the bed and cleaned up the clothes I had thrown on the floor last night. The Capitol is always so efficient, and I'm happy about that. Cato knocked on my door soon after I was done eating. I looked up at him from my book. He slowly closed the door behind him and stood there, waiting for me to say something.
"Hi," is all I said, closing my book and standing. He came closer, his eyes on the ground as if he wanted to say something but couldn't. Finally though, after several minutes pause, his hazel eyes met mine, and he asked.
"What were you dreaming about last night?" His eyes are clearly confused, wondering, and I sit on the bed with a huff. He cautiously sits down next to me, putting an arm around my shoulders. As soon as those words were out of his mouth, I put my head down, unwilling to talk about it.
"Please Glimmer. I know this isn't the you that slept next to me in the woods, this isn't the you that I helped wash her cut and dove in the water with to survive the Tracker Jackers. Something's wrong, something's changed, and I want to find out what."
But I shake my head, shrugged his arm off my shoulders. If I ever told him, which I never will, I can't tell him like this, with sunlight streaming through the windows in an elegant room. I'd have to whisper it to him at night, when everything is cloaked in blackness and it's easier to remember, to talk about it. But at night is when those horrid nightmares come, and his body beside mine might fade into him beside me, and that would just create new problems.
But he kept his arm around my shoulder, and I resisted the urge to cry to him. Maybe, if he came back tonight, I would tell him a little something, enough so he would understand my tears. But only when it was dark and no one would hear. People could be walking by my door right now, and they didn't need to know anything.
"Another time Cato, not now," I choked over the growing lump in my throat. He sighed and got up, but turned back to see me as he neared the door.
"Glimmer, I understand if you don't want to talk about. Maybe this is just another way that the Games changed you. But if you're scared of something, if anything really awful happened that didn't happen to me, that I don't know about, you should tell someone. Some say talking about things can help. And I'm only trying to help, fellow Victor."
He smiled at me as he left. I guess when 12 almost killed him; it made him more grateful for life, and maybe a little more kind. Maybe that's the way the Games changed him.