the room where it happens (jb).— [six/vasco]

[Deleted]

After Six got dragged out of the room where he said goodbye to his older brother, he expected the next step was to get onto the train. But for some reason, it wasn't. He was told he had another visitor. That was confusing. Why did they have to drag him out then if it was just another O'Malley? That's when it hit him, whoever this person was wasn't a member of his family. It was someone important. He thought for a second it might be another victor, but they'd meet on the train, why visit him now? Whoever it was, he suddenly was feeling a whole lot more nervous.

He took a moment to wipe off his face and eyes, not that it did much good. He had been crying and anyone would be able to tell. His eyes were puffy and bloodshot, his normally pale face was red from all the crying. He hoped whoever this important visitor was would understand. Just in case it was some sort of journalist he straightened up his clothes, getting dragged out of a room while screaming for your brother can leave you a little disheveled after all. He also thought it could be someone from his church, though he doubted the peacekeepers considered that important.

Before Six went with the peacekeepers to the guest, he took one more deep breath, trying to calm down. Though, he looked terrified. He didn't know who the person waiting for him on the other side of the door was. And, after that, he didn't know what would be waiting for him in the coming weeks. Sometimes life on the farm got a bit predictable. He would take that predictability in an instant compared to the looming mystery his future faced. Then, with the peacekeepers growing impatient, he was escorted into the room this visitor was being held in.

When he saw who it was, Six just slowly blinked - confused. Of course he knew who this man was, it was the mayor - Vasco Izar. He thought for a second they grabbed the wrong tribute, maybe he was here to say goodbye to Estelle and Estelle was stuck in a room with one of the O'Malley siblings. But the look on Vascos face wasn't one of confusion. He must just be trying to be a good mayor then, trying to send off both of the tributes that would represent - and die for - district eleven this time around.

"Uh- hello, sir."

He wasn't sure what else to say as he slowly walked further into the room, closer to Vasco. His voice was a cocktail of emotions - confusion, fear, and sadness. Later he would work on sounding and looking brave even if he wasn't, but right now there was no point in doing that. He had obviously just been crying, it didn't matter how brave he tried to sound he couldn't hide the fact he was scared shitless. Which, he thought was understandable of a fifteen year old in his situation.

[marguerite harvard d2a (zori)]

V A S C O

By the eighth year, I’ve dispensed with the pomp and opt for the relaxed approach to the reaping. A crisp gray sweatshirt and jeans for me, and the same worn smile that’s heavier than the last year or the one before. I’m more a relic on the stage to most than anything else. Their mayor, the steady hand on a ship that’s seen riots, explosions, and fires and somehow not managed to run so far aground that we’re still standing. Despite the peacekeepers that march along the streets or that in eight years almost half the names of tributes have had Izar attached to them.

Lately I’ve had the thought of how much easier it would’ve been to stay working in the fields than trying to lead the district. About how we might’ve just gone as unnoticed as we ever had – even if it’d meant staying a part of the scenery. At least then we’d have had each other. Instead, we share grief in abundance, like we’re passing around a bottle that doesn’t empty. Some of us drunk to tears, others steeled to how heavy the world sits on our shoulders. And still others drinking, drop by drop, not yet spoiled by our fill.

When the peacekeepers open the door and I step through the threshold to where Six O’Malley is standing, the first thing I see is that the boy has been crying. The puffy red eyes are hard to miss, aside from his hair. And as the door closes, I put my hands into my sweatshirt’s pockets. It’s quiet, aside from his addressing me. The ‘sir’ still unfamiliar to me, as though what I’ve become is the silhouette of a man with any real power.

“Six O’Malley,” I say, furrowing my brow. I do my best to smile because as much as my heart could be breaking, we owe it to him not to add to his grief. That he deserves to know that no matter what becomes of him, he won’t become what the capitol wants him to be – an agent of grief and nothing else. That he can’t be turned into a villain or hero, or any one thing no matter how hard they’d try. For now, as he stands with a shock of red hair and wiping away tears, he’s a great many things, and could become so much more.

“Vasco Izar.” It’s the reason I don’t give him my title, because here, there’s no difference between us. The purgatory where we sit is about what might become rather than what we are. For him there will be pain and sadness. And for us, for me – the need to ensure safe passage for his return. That no matter how he comes back to us, his memory will remain, and grow, as he’d want it.

“I don’t pretend to know how it feels standing in your shoes,” I say making sure to hold my gaze to his, “But I wanted to come to listen to you. If you even wanted to speak. Sometimes there’s nothing left to say, and that’s okay, too.”

There needed to be someone to show the world was not so cruel.

“I want to help you, and your family. To do what I can, no matter what.”

elegant

[Deleted]

While Vasco tried his hardest to meet Six's gaze, the boy was struggling to look at anywhere that wasn't the ground. He knew that it was the polite thing to do to make eye contact - especially with an authority figure. If his mom was in here and saw he wasn't making eye contact with the mayor she'd grab him the by the ear and slap him at the very least. Respect and rules were always something big in the O'Malley family, even during the 5th Hunger Games when Winger O'Malley was reaped. That respect was more than just respecting his parents and grandparents. It was more than giving respect to people like the mayor. It was respecting the Bible he was forced to read his entire life. It was respecting the Capitol and the entire institution of the Hunger Games. And right now? He never respected anything less.

He knew that going into that Arena would be his death, just like it was for Winger O'Malley before him. Over the years, a lot has changed about the Hunger Games. But, not enough to make Six live to the end. The issue was, he knew he wouldn't be able to become what the Capitol wanted him to be. He was the one in the family where if there was a spider, he'd let it bite him as he released it back outside instead of letting Prop step on it. How was he supposed to kill another human being?

He knew he was going to, he had to. After all, he told Lock he'd do everything he could to come back. He didn't want to lie to him. Though, he already lied to Fly. He told Fly he would be okay. He told Fly he was going to come back. What else are you supposed to tell a kid? That this is your last goodbye? That, her brother is going to burn in Hell for the sins he'd commit? No, you lie. You lie and then you die with a heart full of guilt and just hope one day she'll find it in your heart to forgive you.

Six knew that even though he'd do everything he could, it wouldn't be enough. Sure, lower district tributes had won before. Kassandra was younger than Six by a year when she won. But she had something Six didn't. All of the victors did. He wasn't sure what they had, he just knew he didn't have it. They had something inside of them that couldn't be trained or taught. Maybe it was luck like Flynn Garner had said in his post-games interview. Or maybe God was on their side like his brother Lock had suggested. Regardless, it was out of Six's hands.

He wanted to speak, he really did. He just didn't know what to say. At the same time he felt like there was a million things to say, but nothing. Six just knew he was tired of not being heard. At home, he was unheard. At school, he was unheard. He was tired of being pushed down and pushed away. He wanted to be heard. And here Vasco was, letting him be heard. He decided not to think about what he said and just speak instead, letting his mouth do whatever it wanted without interference from his brain.

"Mr. Izar I... I don't know if there's anything you can do, but your offer is very kind, sir. I don't think there's anyone left who can help me. And for my family? You seem like a very smart and kind man. But how are you going to tell my eight younger siblings that their big brother is dead? How are you going to tell my five older siblings that it's not their fault they couldn't protect me? How are you going to tell my twin that they're no longer one? With all due respect, I don't think your offer can do much. But thank you, sir."

[marguerite harvard d2a (zori)]

V A S C O

I remember looking at Raquel standing in a room like this and thinking how those last few moments, all I could think of was how much we’d failed. That what we’d had was always going to be a memory, no matter what happened. And that no one would ever know what this pain felt like, searing right across my chest.

“You’re right, to feel that way, Six.” I say, hands twisting in the pockets of my hoodie, “Words didn’t mean much when I lost my daughter, no matter how many times I heard someone say I’m sorry.”

They’re just kids.

Children who’ll never know what it meant to live without all the pain and trauma. Always taught that violence could avenge just as fast as it could destroy. The capitol offering the old narrative that a person that made it on their own was a hero, and that there was no room for anyone but ourselves.

“But that doesn’t mean I won’t try to look every one of your brothers and sisters in the eye and tell them their loss is going to come in waves, and they have to keep kicking to stay above the waves, until they’re not as big as they used to be. That the fault’s mine, for not finding a way that keeps a single one of you out of this, and not theirs. To listen to them, and every hurtful thing they’re going to want to say to someone who’s supposed to be in charge. And own it, because that’s what a person should do.”

I never thought that bravery was about some great gesture, or single act. True courage was all the little things we did for one another, without being asked or needing to take credit. Without needing a title or a name to want to live for others. That took strength, day in and day out, to offer a part of ourselves without asking for something in return. Even when sometimes it meant getting hurt or being so tired of it you could weep.

But then you see the faces of kids like Six or Estelle, and you remember it’s about them. Not us.

“And I’ll give your twin a space they can sit and take in the rest of this world. And still feel as though they’re not so alone, when they feel like there’s no one else who’d ever understand.”

I step a bit closer to Six and lean forward to meet his height. He’s a few inches shy of me, and if he’d had another year, I probably would’ve been staring up at him. I take my hands out of my pockets and rest them at my sides.

“The hard part’s not in finding the right thing to say. It’s reaching out a hand and keeping it held out no matter how hard things might be for me. Because if we aren’t willing to listen to one another, or try to understand the good, bad, and everything in between, then what’s the point?”

elegant

[Deleted]

Six listened to him silently. He forgot that he had lost a child to the games. He forgot about all of the Izars that had passed. He forgot that another one volunteered this year despite the tragedy that had already plagued the family. And then he felt guilty. He felt guilty for saying there was nothing Vasco could do. Because Vasco could and would do his best. From what he knew of Vasco Izar, he had a lot of respect for the man. And the more Vasco spoke, the calmer he had become. There was a reason Vasco was a leader. It wasn't just his pretty words, it was his kind heart and the warmth that radiated from him. Honestly, Six wanted to hug him. But, he didn't want to disrespect the boundaries of the man who was so kind to him.

After he had finished speaking, Six was finally able to meet his gaze without his eyes darting away every few seconds. As he spoke, he felt like a liar who was finally speaking truths. At first, he was scared when he saw the mayor was here. He was worried he would be a disappointment of a tribute. But now? Now he was glad. Vasco was exactly what he needed. Plus, he made him feel better about his height. At fifteen, most of the boys his age had already hit his growth spurt. He knew his would be coming within the next year, after all sixteen was when Prop had his spurt. He couldn't remember off the top of his head when Lock had his growth spurt. Meanwhile, here was Vasco, who possibly never had a growth spurt.

"I'm sorry, Mr. Izar. I shouldn't have said there isn't anything you could do. Or implied that you wouldn't understand. Honestly? My biggest worry isn't just for me. It's for my family. My brothers and sisters aren't just siblings, they're my best friends... But, they need me alive. You said you would do anything you could to help me. What can you do?"

Panicking right now wouldn't get him anywhere. It didn't get him anywhere as the Peacekeepers had dragged him out of the room and away from Lock. It wouldn't get him anywhere now. He needed to get any advice he could from this man. But, he had more he wanted to say. That he wanted to let out. So after a slight pause, and before Vasco could answer his initial question, he started speaking again. And now? Now he was saying the stuff he didn't mention to Fly or Lock when saying goodbye to them. Now he was saying the stuff that he couldn't let his siblings hear.

"I know what the Capitol want me to be and I know if I want to win, I have to be that. I just can't. I can't do it, Mr. Izar. I know I'll have to kill people, but even that'll be hard. They want me to be a monster. I have no clue how I'll do that. How I'll live. Because at that point, even if I survive, Six O'Malley would have died. At home, whenever there's a spider or a bug, I catch it and release it outside. I've been stung and bitten before because of this, even so, I refuse to let Prop step on the bugs. If I can't let Prop kill bugs, how am I supposed to do this?"

[marguerite harvard d2a (zori)]

V A S C O

"You don’t have to apologize. You have a lot of questions and none of us have any real answers for you, I’m afraid.”

“You know who you are right now is going to be different than who you’re going to be in there,” I say quiet enough to be at a whisper. Images of Raquel and her blade flash at the back of my mind. “They want you to believe in befores and afters. That time is different from the moment you do something you think will make you a terrible person.”

I don’t know if I could ever bring myself to do what Raquel had done, but it’s not something to know until the moment comes. And I’d have been lying if I said I didn’t want her to come home. Even I knew what that meant the moment they set off in the train toward the capitol. I’d just pretended to believe there’d be some other way out of it for her.

“We’re taught punish ourselves for the bad things we do – putting people in prison forever – for the entirety of their lives. Without a chance for redemption. Nothing else on earth acts that way. Except us. And no matter how many times we punish someone for the same crime, it’s not going to bring things back to the way they were before.” I shake my head. There’s no raising our dead, no matter how many times the capitol may have done it.

“I’ll do my best to make sure no matter what happens, how I see you, or how anyone else might see you, won’t make you any different. And that your family is looked after, as well as I can.”

elegant

[Deleted]

As Vasco spoke, he felt his nerves slowly calming. He knew that the moment he stepped on that train, and perhaps just out the door of the room they were currently in, it would all come flooding back. But right now? Right now Six felt an odd sort of peace - the calm before the storm. He wondered if he would ever be able to feel this sort of calm again. Maybe in death he could once again feel this at peace with himself and his actions. But, maybe Vasco was right. His actions didn't define him. Even if he entered Hell, his family wouldn't remember him that way.

His family would remember him as he truest self - as the person he was right now. They would remember him as the boy who didn't want to hurt a spider. His older brothers would remember him letting them pin him down when they wanted to wrestle for fear of accidentally hurting them. His younger siblings would remember him holding them when they had nightmares and telling them that everything would be okay. What they would remember was Six O'Malley, not whatever he would pretend to be while in that arena.

That's when he made himself a goal. No matter what he had to do in that arena he would never forget who he was and why he was there. He would never forget he was Six O'Malley. And he would make sure to remember that he was there for his family, for the moment he lost sight of that is when he would truly be defeated. When people had nothing to fight for it become easy to quit. When Six walked through those doors he was ready to quit. But after talking with Vasco he remembered what he had to fight for. Not just his family, but himself as well.

Vasco, someone he had just met, was prepared to do so much for him. He was ready to give up and believe that the world was filled with cruelness, but here Vasco was to remind him otherwise. To him, Vasco wasn't just a man. He was a symbol. A symbol of helping your fellow man. That's why he was so easy for the citizen of district eleven to rally behind. When people saw him they didn't just see Vasco Izar, they saw everything that he had represented and everything he had done to help them and those that they cared about. When people looked at Vasco they saw the same thing that Six saw in this very moment, hope. A fleeting, beautiful glimpse of hope within the darkness.

"Thank you, Mr. Izar. For everything. It really means a lot to me. And I want you to know that. Some of my siblings, like my older brother Prop, might be hard to get to open up, but they really need someone like you. And, if it's not too much to ask, I could really use a hug right about now."

[marguerite harvard d2a (zori)]

V A S C O

"Just… breathe,” I say to him.

I lean in to wrap both arms around his body, tight. It’s a skill that comes from years of seeing all the good and the bad of life, giving good hugs. You come to understand that it’s about making the other person know that the space between you holds no distance. Or that your arms are tight against them to both keep them safe but to hold them where they are, in that moment. Enough strength that they can borrow every ounce, but light enough that they don’t feel smothered.

“I’ll take care of each of them, you’ll see,” I whisper, swaying left to right. “They’ll be safe in my watch.”

I wonder about how many promises we make our children that none of us can keep. And whether or not after all these years any of them ever believe us after all the times we’ve failed. You keep going, at least, I have – not because I’m sure if I’ll ever live up to what it is they need. Sofia, Emmanuel, or Yani. But that every morning as long as I can still get out of bed, I wouldn’t give up trying. That was the real secret, showing up for them even if they didn’t for themselves.

“Just be sure to take care of yourself,” I remind him. I loosen the grip of my hug and pull back to see his face. He’d have to make a lot of choices that we’d never understand. And all the unpacking would take lifetimes. Except that’s what being there for one another was all about. Being bold enough to keep your heart open even when someone else might’ve become something else.

Spirit’s change, but if they’re beyond redemption, then all of us are. I still believe it, even after all these years. After all that the capitol’s taken from me, and my family. The weight of hate makes it too heavy to get to where we’re going.

And I can’t look at Six except to think, all of us deserve to be free.

elegant